Bah! Humbug!

Almost three years of grad school, and four and a half years of college, have taught me that nothing kills the Christmas spirit faster than finals time.

Sure, in high-school, we had finals (and later in December, too), but so much of high-school life revolves around social events and Christmas revelry that its not hard to catch the spirit of Christmas, even if that dreaded Chem II test is right around the corner. As a "mega-nerd," I always had the annual choir and debate team Christmas parties to look forward to, as well as other pertinent social obligations, dictated by whomever I happened to be dating at the time.

At my parent's home, the Christmas tree (after we splurged and bought a tasteful artificial one) usually went up either the day of or day after Thanksgiving. Even amid end-of-the-semester wackiness, an eclectic Christmas tree and cheerful display of stockings greeted me as I hurried in through the front door. For a few years, I even decorated my room with Christmas lights, stringing multi-colored strands (my favorite) around the legs and railings of my loft bed.

And then--I went away to college. Celebrating the season of Yule presents many challenges while in pursing higher education. After Thanksgiving, finals were a but a wink away and then we were required to vacate our dorm rooms until classes resumed in mid-January. Stringing Christmas lights in one's dorm room proved to be much time and frustration (because packing tape doesn't stick to cement-block walls) for little enjoyment. Friends scatter to the four winds after the completion of finals, and classmates and roommates disappear without so much as a "Merry Christmas."

Of course, the consolation for a lack of Christmas preparation at the college is that you get to return home where, if you are so fortunate, the tree and stockings and egg-nog await.

Ironically, I have had the hardest time "getting into the Christmas Spirit" while at seminary. Surely at seminary, Christmas/Advent would be a focus, sorta like the 4th of July is celebrated brightest and best in Washington, D.C. We expect our nation's capitol to model for us what it means to be patriotic, proud, and exuberant. Likewise, shouldn't our seminaries better model for us what it means to wait in expectant hope for the coming Christ child?

And in truth, the seminary I attend does its best. There are scattered parties, sing-a-longs, etc. The administration and community does what it can. But it is one of the hard facts of seminary life that the looming dread associated with final exams and papers extinguishes holiday cheer faster than you can sing "Silent Night." We weep, gnash teeth, rend garments until our work is done and we are able to return to the homes from whence we came. By the time we turn in work, collapse from exhaustion, board planes, drive cars, go home (or similar), see family and friends, we look up at our calendars and realize that is is January 6th and Christmas is over.

Christmas is a mere 9 days away and instead of Christmas lights, my room is littered with fragments of an exegesis paper. Books, lying open, too exhausted to hoist themselves on my bookshelf, clutter my floor. The only sign of Christmas is the two Christmas cards pinned to my bulletin board. Alone, neglected, dusty, and forgotten--a Rubbermaid storage bin hides in the corner of my closet. Inside it lies more Christmas decorations than a seminary dorm room can hold, but, as I look around my room, I see no place to display my wares. It seems that the Holy family may have to remain a hidden family, if I don't clear off enough counter space.

I used to love Christmas, but that was when I felt I had a home. These days, I feel more like a "wayfaring stranger," not yet an adult, but no longer a child. How does one celebrate Christmas in Limbo, when I have the ornaments for a tree, but no tree on which to display them? How do I celebrate Christmas when my stocking has no mantel nor hook on which to hang? Nine days to Christmas, and I have yet to buy a single gift, or send a card, or watch the Grinch attempt a holiday misdemeanor, or witness Linus recite from the Gospel according to St. Luke.

Perhaps I'll find my Christmas spirit. Perhaps it will hit me like a "stake of holly through my heart," as Dickens once said. Or maybe it will come and go, gentle and rolling as the tide, as ordinary and unassuming as all the days of the year. But then--isn't it when we least expect it, that something miraculous occurs?