Stop and See – Folha de S. Paulo, December 27, 1970
by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
I couldn’t resist. I had planned to write about something like the increasing communist pressure in Chile, the tragic repression of the Polish uprising, the Burgos trial, or—oh, the bitterness of bitterness, the darkness of darkness—the internal crisis in the Church. But I felt no conditions for that inside me or around me. From the depths of my soul, harmonious and relaxing memories of my past Christmases came to mind. I see in the eyes of many acquaintances and strangers I pass on the streets, in the reflections of friends I struggle and work with, and in close friends whose friendship has lasted over the years, a poorly satisfied spiritual thirst, a silent and perhaps subconscious desire to rediscover a little of the true joy of Christmas. I believe many of my readers share this same state of mind.
Under these circumstances, it seemed wrong to deny myself and others a chance to free many treasured memories from forgotten years and to satisfy the longing for the marvelous, sweet, and sacred that Christmas represents.
(caption). Panis Angelicus, choir of Lichfield Cathedral
Let us set aside dark visions of oppressed peoples, ruthless tyrants, crowds stirred by demagogues, and cunning scribes creating biased news to deceive the public. Instead, let us open ourselves to the Christmas light for a few moments to revive our exhausted and lonely souls. Then, we will face our nearly unbearable burdens with greater courage.
Of course, I am not referring to the advertising and fake joy that dominate Christmas today. It has lost almost all its former charm in our social customs and has become a commercial event. Intense advertising leaves people with little psychological freedom, pressuring them to go on shopping sprees that may or may not fit their budgets. People are often “forced” to buy items to move surplus stock and boost sales. As a result, Christmas has long taken on the busy and hectic character of a massive rush of people serving developmentalism.
The psychology of giving and celebrating has naturally evolved. Gifts are increasingly losing their emotional, disinterested, and intimate qualities. They now often function as extensions of business, mainly to build, entertain, or strengthen relationships that serve commercial interests. Under this perspective, even disinterested gifts tend to appear commercial. People often try to gauge how much the gift they’ll receive from a friend will cost so they can give one of similar value. If the gift given exceeds the value of the one received, the giver may feel foolish or frustrated. The same happens if the opposite is true. Essentially, a gift has become a calculated exchange based on its worth. When it comes to parties, which are often hard to organize, how often are the guest list, expenses, and so on motivated more by financial interests than by genuine friendship?
“Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to men of goodwill.” How this angelic song found a fitting home in the quiet fields of Bethlehem and in the sincere hearts of the shepherds who awoke from their peaceful, heavy sleep! How different, on the other hand, the words of the angelic choir seem without resonance, disconnected from the thoughts of people in today’s large cities, where obsession with gold, or material wealth, dominates.
* * *
Has authentic Christmas truly died? With some exaggeration, one might say yes. It has died in the metallic souls of millions of people. It even perishes in progressive nativity scenes, which show the Holy Family with features and faces distorted by modern art and symbols that suggest social revolution.
But if claiming that Christmas is dead is an exaggeration, it’s true that it still shows some signs of life. Let’s go find them.
We will find them first and foremost—especially on Christmas Day itself. Each feast day in the liturgical calendar brings an outpouring of special graces. Whether people like it or not, grace more sublimely, gently, and persistently knocks at the doors of their souls during Christmas. Despite everything, there is a light, a peace, a breath of fresh air, and a force of idealism and dedication in the atmosphere that is hard to ignore.
Furthermore, in many churches and homes, authentic nativity scenes still depict the Child God, who came to break the chains of death, crush sin beneath His feet, forgive, renew, and open new, limitless horizons of faith and ideals for people, along with endless possibilities for virtue and goodness.
God is present, approachable, and within our reach, made man like us, with the perfect Mother by His side. She is His Mother and ours. Even the worst sinners can ask for and hope for anything through her. Also present is St. Joseph, the remarkable man who embodies the marvelous contrast of many qualities. He is a prince of the House of David and a carpenter. He is the brave defender of the Holy Family. Yet, he is also a gentle father and a loving husband. A perfect husband, he is nevertheless the most chaste husband of the one who was always a Virgin. A true father, he is not a father according to the flesh. A role model for warriors, princes, wise men, and workers—whom the Church would later bring to earth for Heaven—he was not primarily any of these things. His two highest titles are Father of Jesus and Husband of Mary. These titles are both small and immense, which simultaneously diminish and exalt all other titles on earth, bringing forth life, nobility, and splendor.
The shepherds are shown in a friendly way with the animals, just like Our Lady, St. Joseph, and the Child Jesus. This is a moving image of the mighty God who shines with His greatness, reaching out and lifting even the most humble and small among people. Not only that, He also draws in and blesses even irrational creatures.
As we reflect on this, our tense spirits settle down. Our selfishness is toned down. Peace surrounds us and fills our hearts. We feel that something in our neighbor is also uplifted and refined. The gifts of the soul come forth: the gift of love, the gift of forgiveness, and, as a symbol, the gentle and selfless act of giving a gift.
To ensure nothing is overlooked, the ‘brother body’—as St. Francis called it—also shares in the joy. After praying together at the nativity scene, everyone gathers at the same table. They eat in moderation and drink responsibly. The celebration radiates with the joy of faith, virtue, and sacred order—actions performed and things arranged properly.
* * *
Is it Christmas joy? Yes, but it is much more than that. For a true Catholic, it is joy 365 days a year. For in the soul where the Savior dwells by grace, this joy never fades and lasts forever. Neither pain, struggle, illness, nor death can take it away. It is the joy of faith and the supernatural. The joy of a sacral order.
O you who walk along the road, stop and see if there is a sorrow like mine, exclaimed the prophet Isaiah, foreseeing the Passion of the Savior and Mary’s compassion.
He could also have said, foretelling the everlasting and unbreakable Christian joys that Christmas brings to their height: O ye who pass by on the road, stop and see if there is a joy like mine.
O you who greedily chase gold, O you who foolishly pursue vanity, O you who senselessly seek sensual pleasures, O you who devilishly indulge in rebellion and crime: stop and truly see how Christmas’s joy illuminates Catholic souls. How does your joy compare to theirs?
Do not see these words as provocation or contempt. They are much more than that.
They serve as an invitation to the everlasting Christmas, which is the life of the true faithful: “Christianus alter Christus” — a Christian is another Jesus Christ.
No joy compares, not even when a Catholic is nailed to the cross like Jesus Our Lord.
