As December 25 intrudes more and more on Advent, I like to read this poem:
Hush that anguished hymn you’re humming:
“Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”
Trumpet Christmas! Fix his coming
firmly at “The First Nowell.”
He’s already come in glory!
Why plead, “Savior, come at last”?
Let’s talk Christmas! Tell a story
safely in the distant past.
Drown out John the Baptist. Edit
out “Prepare! Make straight the way!”
Cut to Christmas! Buy on credit.
Square things up another day.
Advent’s dreary. Let’s start living
Christmas now! Wear red and green!
While we’re at it, skip Thanksgiving!
Deck the halls at Halloween!
Then, when the Incarnate Verb
overnight becomes passé,
carry Christmas to the curb.
Pack the Prince of Peace away.
(Julie Stoner, First Things [December 2009], 39)