Love of Christmas doesn't have to die
Five months after Christmas, I still can't get enough of Christmas music.
Most of the songs are so good, it just seems wrong that I can only listen to them from the Friday after Thanksgiving until New Year's Day. And with so many great contemporary artists updating classic Christmas carols and putting their own spin on it (I can only hope that Kris Allen records a Christmas album this year), it gets difficult to put away the music after just one month's worth of listening.
While it's not an every day occasion, I still search my iTunes for Faith Hill's version of "O Holy Night." I still press play on SheDaisy's "Hark the Herald Angels Sing/Carol of the Bells" (a beautiful mix of both tunes). And no matter what time of year it is, the TransSiberian Orchestra's Christmas catalogue always deserves air time.
As I sat down to write this column, one Christmas song that I had to play was Jars of Clay's rendition of "Love Came Down at Christmas," from their album 'Christmas Songs.' The band was able to give this 1885 Irish Melody a very fun, beautiful arrangement (as Jars of Clay, the greatest band of all time, does with most of their songs). These lyrics really stuck out at me.
"Love shall be our token,
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Love shall be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and to all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign."
It seems like we forget those words when the tree gets put back into the attic. It seems like the wonderful gift that God gave us at Christmas, this token of love, gets taken for granted in these hot summer months. I know I forget. I'm much less charitable in the summer. And during Christmas, it seems like I have a thankful, cheerful heart throughout most of the season.
During the summer? Forget it! I spend my time griping to God about the washing machine breaking (leaving smelly mildewy water inside for two days), the lack of central air conditioning in my apartment and the fact that fresh cherries cost more than $4 a pound at the grocery store.
During Christmas, I remember people less fortunate than me. During the summer, they seem to fade away from memory.
I know that sounds terrible, but at least I'm honest.
Still, it's funny that all it takes for people like me to be more charitable is a constant reminder of Christ's birth. Maybe that's why the words of that Christmas hymn stick out all year round. That "love to God and to all men," that Dan Haseltine (lead singer for Jars of Clay) sings about isn't something we do for a span of 4-6 weeks. It's love we should practice all year.
So maybe instead of worrying about my air conditioning, I should be worrying about ways to help others. Instead of griping about my washing machine being broken, I should be thanking God that it got fixed after only two days and I didn't have to pay a dime.
And maybe I should be worrying about those less fortunate than I am 12 months out of the year instead of just one.
As of this writing, I'm not going to turn into a holy roller and implement this change all at once. I'm too flawed of a human being, but if I can make one ounce of change, I'll have improved tenfold. However, I like to think that even a small step is a good start.
As the song says, love was born at Christmas. And listening to this music five months later is a nice reminder that it doesn't have to die once the season comes to an end.
Merry Christmas.
(Faber is a dejected Boston Celtics fan, a page designer and host of Church Echoes, available at www.thecabin.net/podcast. You can reach him at 505-1260, by e-mail at dustin.faber@thecabin.net or follow him at twitter.com/dustinfaber)