On Celebrating

Every so often my wife looks at me and says in no uncertain terms that it is time for a haircut.  So this past Friday I found myself in one of the local walk-in hair salons leaning back into a hair-washing sink and trying to listen politely while my stylist verbally wandered the map.  I tuned in, however, when she began to talk about Mother's Day.  This woman had two adult children, and had made up her mind that Mother's Day only existed so that companies could sell us more junk we don't need, i.e. cards and gifts.

I was surprised to realize that I was hearing a sentiment I expressed pretty often as a young(er) adult, and further to realize how much I've changed.  I can still remember that after my November wedding, one of our first big married-people arguments had to do with Christmas cards.  I was pretty disgusted with the whole notion of these superficial, time-consuming, and expensive little gestures that, like housework, were only noticed in absence.  Mind you, I still can't say I'm a big fan of Christmas cards -- they still make me a little nuts every year -- but I have come a long way in my attitude toward them.

I met a man several years ago who changed all of this for me.  His name was Richard, and when Kristin and I moved all the way out here, he and his wife Ruth were the closest family we had -- first cousins once removed (I think) and both in their eighties.  They invited us to every major holiday celebration, and we tried to stop by each time we were in Seattle.  What I noticed about Richard was that he made sure to decorate his home for every holiday and season.  For Thanksgiving there were dozens of tacky little turkeys and pilgrims scattered about on the coffee tables and even a turkey-emblazoned flag on the corner of the house.  Easter brought bunnies and colored eggs, and I'm sure you can imagine Christmas.

Generally I tended to be disgusted by this sort of thing, but to see a man in his ninth decade still devoting so much of himself to these "silly" decorations -- especially such a wonderful man as Richard -- truly gave me pause.  I began to realize that the plastic figurines skating on mirrors and the Christmas village nestled in cotton balls were akin to what the church calls a sacrament: an outward and physical sign of an inward and spiritual grace.  This man was marking his seasons, celebrating his days, making his time sacred, and not just his own, but for his whole family and circle of influence.  He showed me that ritual and tradition need not always be embodied in silver chalices or authentic Native American hoop dances -- that in the context of one man and his family, even department store trinkets could convey a rich and meaningful heritage.  Richard brought the spirit of every season alive in his household in a beautiful and intentional way, and he taught me that it was the observance, the celebration, that truly mattered, and that it could be conveyed by whatever you had on hand.

I am indebted to Richard for showing me the way beyond the superficialities and kitsch and into the true heart of celebration.  By simply being himself, he led me a little further along the way to a vocation of priesthood.  Because of his optimistic and tireless embrace of life, I will be able to carry his lessons to the communities and congregations I will serve.  Each and every day of life can be a cause for celebration, how much more so for the days we all mark as special?

I hope that my hair stylist will be celebrated as a Mother by someone in her family this year, even if it is not on the day set aside for it.  After all, just by agreeing to the role, she changed the world.  And that's worth having a party for...