I am torn between being pleased that precious resources aren’t being draped unbecomingly along the commuter route, and feeling sadly unseasonal of a morning.
It reminds me of the American election. The day of and the morning after there was little indication that history had taken place. I’m sure that if I’d tried talking with someone about it, or even shouted a jubilant “go Obama!” it woud be clear people knew and cared, but if they did they hid it. So too with Christmas.
And I miss it.
The joy of seasons, particularly the ones in the Christian calendar, is the dynamic they create. Advent should be a few weeks of expectation and excitement, readying yourself for the time of family and celebration that the nativity story reflects. Instead it has become a time of money worries, and present-planning, the same music tracks on repeat and a cynical weariness for what western civilisation has made it.
Perhaps we should encourage a new feeling for Advent inspired by a different love for Christmas. If the Day is not about the presents, then the Season is not a time to buy; if the Day is for laughter, then the Season is for writing the jokes; if the Day is for family, then the Season is for making contact; if the Day is about faith, then the Season is about what that means.
And if the Day is about being away from work, the commute takes a back seat. Truly it seems more clear that commuting is what happens when life does not.