Indeed, actually gathering with our families during these “special” days often makes real celebration impossible. Forget Christmas shopping as the number one seasonal worry. Our American refrain is often, “I dread going to our family’s holiday meal because I just can’t take all the antics and hidden agendas.”
We worry that our niece who has the silhouette of a feather will make everyone uncomfortable with her eating disorder. Last year she insisted she was just recovering from the flu and still had an upset stomach — too unsettled to eat. But for every bite she is not eating, we have Uncle Joe, who carries his own personal coffee mug around all day filled with, well, you know. And then there’s sister Sue, with her gourmet diet packs and very long face.
In our own nuclear family, we have the child who wouldn’t attend a family gathering if someone offered to pay him $10,000. He eats a grocery store salad on Thanksgiving and loses himself on the Internet. Does he miss all of us? Not one bit.
Then, of course, when we gather we will want to make comfortable the third husband of our daughter, a considerate young man who has no idea what he has taken on by marrying into our family and promising to cherish a woman who is a control freak and, well, pretty selfish to boot.
In spite of all of these anxieties, we pretend. We pretend we are going to be a “typical” American family — perfect for a Norman Rockwell painting. Almost all of us can remember the covers of Saturday Evening Post with nostalgic illustrations of family life. I fondly remember ones featuring going to the dentist or finding a stray puppy. But the haunting ones are the sweet drawings of gatherings at the holiday table or around the Christmas tree.
What was Norman thinking?
Having done most of his work before 1960, maybe all of the gay people were still in the closet. If he were alive today, perhaps he would include at the table the lesbian couple who have been happily together for 15 years. Or he might paint in the mixed race adopted child who used to embarrass everyone until he got an appointment to the Naval Academy, that is.
And maybe Mr. Rockwell would take out all of the scenes where Grandpa has a pipe, because we know the family patriarch wouldn’t be around today if he were still puffing — not to mention all the secondary smoke he wouldn’t dream of sending to the tender little lungs of his grandchildren.
If Norman were still illustrating family gatherings in the 21st century, he might place on the table a take-out turkey dinner, still in aluminum pans. Maybe Mom has finally decided to surrender her martyr role, laboring in the kitchen far too many hours (and then pouting when no one is appropriately thankful). If Norman were really brave — I mean really, really brave — he might draw a charming living room scene filled with laughing people who were not watching three football games in succession.
I sometimes wonder if God didn’t get distracted when He was working on the blueprint for families. Maybe a beautiful gazelle loped by and He stopped to admire His creativity and forgot exactly where He was in the fine-tuning stage of His human prototypes.
Or maybe that’s why we have Heaven to anticipate. At the heavenly banquet, Dad’s brother isn’t still mad about the failed family business venture 21 years ago. At the heavenly banquet, the control freak no longer needs to control, and the alcoholic and anorexic are healthy and whole. At the heavenly banquet, the martyrs we meet are actually people who died for their faith, instead of persecuted family members who do way more than their share and never let you forget it. At the heavenly banquet, everyone is colorblind. At the heavenly banquet, everyone has a short memory and a forgiving heart.
In the meantime, these are the banquets we have been given. Let us find a way to enjoy this American life and the motley parade of characters who happen to share our gene pool. Let us remember my most un-favorite verse of Scripture, Matthew 7:5. You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.
Come, ye thankful people, come. All are safely gathered in.
Karen Davis Kilgore is a freelance writer, the planned giving advisor to Schreiner University in Kerrville, Texas, and the regional representative for the Texas Presbyterian Foundation.
Editor’s Note: Given that many Presbyterians in the pews love to sing Christmas carols throughout Advent, but many worship leaders want to keep with Advent themes for worship, we have commissioned Carolyn Gillette to write Advent-themed hymn texts for Christmas carol tunes for each of the Sundays of this year’s Advent. We invite our loyal readers to incorporate these into their Sunday worship, and to send us a note to let us know how the congregation responds.
