The Season of Christmas, St. Joseph & Good Fathers
Christmas is a season not just a day
Whilst Christmas Day is passed (and even today I saw Christmas trees dissembled on the curb for recycling!) in Catholicism the Christmas Season only starts at Christmas Eve vigil mass and ends on the Feast of the Epiphany, also known as the ‘Feast of the Kings’ on 6 January.
When I was a child we did not put our tree up until Christmas Eve. December was set aside to mark Advent- the four weeks leading to Christmas Day, the birth of Jesus. I have visceral memories of the lightning of the candles at the start of the week, alongside special prayers and songs that were only sung at that time. It felt special.
Christmas may have had Santa (of course) but even with my child enthusiasm for the presents under the tree, I knew the real meaning of our celebration was about the birth of Jesus. These days many don’t acknowledge Jesus has anything to do with the season. Cards sent out have winter scenes with messages like ‘wishing you peace’. Whilst these are nice sentiments, they could be sent out at anytime of year.
I do wonder what will happen to society as we untether ourselves from these important anchors. Do the people who send out ‘Holiday greeting cards’ imagine a world with no Cathedral services, no choirs, no marking of the season? What will happen without keepers of faith? Will it just be one big commodified mash up of gifts… for winter? I hope not. As I get older I find myself returning to my faith and appreciating the wisdom it offers, as I seek greater communion with God.
Following is a post I wrote a year ago in honour of Christmas and celebration of Fathers. It is one of many reflections I have had about the story and life of Jesus and one that holds great resonance for me.
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In this season of Christmas I find myself reflecting not only on the Madonna and Jesus, but on Joseph. And those early days of family. And the value of good Fathers.
A lot has been made of the breakdown of family in recent years which has created a crisis in our communities and amongst our youth. And to be clear (largely) this is a crisis of absent Fathers.
I know this personally. Nothing has been more devastating to my and my son’s life, then his Father’s chosen absence. This does not in any way denigrate my contribution or hard work, but that children benefit from good Fathers and our lives are lesser without them.
I discovered I was pregnant with my son in April 2012. This was not planned. One might even say, miraculous. At the time I had a one way plane ticket for Argentina where I had intended to study Tango for two years. I had sold everything I owned, my life was encapsulated into a tiny suitcase. After 12 years in Glasgow, Scotland I was embarking on a new life.
On the quiet April afternoon I took the pregnancy test the sight of the two blue lines caused an immediate fit of laughter. And tears. There was never any hesitation that I was to accept the gift of Motherhood, but I also saw it as a crazy cosmic joke. I wanted a new life, I got a new life. Just not the one I had outlined. The biological imperative of my condition meant I had no choice but to face this reality. And I thought ‘ok God, if this is your plan, here we go’. But make no bones about it, it was frightening.
I contacted M., the father of our child, to let him know of this unexpected turn of events. The last I had seen him we assumed had been our last goodbye, intimate, good natured, final. Now our lives were to be linked forever.
Nothing prepared me for his response. He grew immediately agitated, I heard a violence underpin his measured tone as his height filled the space in my hallway demanding me to end my pregnancy. When it was apparent that was not on the table his insistence grew more erratic and unpredictable. He flailed and paced. He didn’t want to be a father. Therefore I needed to ‘fix’ it for him. Get an abortion or keep our child’s life a secret. Forever.
I cannot help but think if I had been a different sort of person I might have bent to his threats and ended my pregnancy. I was on my own, with no financial security to speak of. If I wanted to stay in good graces with M. I might have caved to his pressures. Friends argued with me that was right he didn’t take responsibility after all it wasn’t his ‘choice’ to get pregnant. How many other women are in a similar position? It is a tale as old as time sadly.
Contrast to the biblical story with Joseph- also presented with an unplanned pregnancy, and the child wasn’t even his. Historically society would have had no qualms accepting his ‘stepping down’ from his engagement to Mary. But he didn’t. He stepped up to the role of Father with compassion, care and purpose - all that was required of him to raise the child Jesus into a man.
In the end I went to Argentina. I reasoned that I had the ticket anyway, and that the space might give myself and M clarity on how to progress. I hoped M would see a way forward as I pleaded with him via calls and emails. This only made him more resolute in his denial of responsibility.
And so I travelled about the country on my own, often violently ill (as is befitting the first trimester of pregnancy), fielding his responses, and praying for an answer of what to do, how to progress. In that space I was constantly met with images of the Madonna and Child. It was as if a divine message was reminding me of the most iconic of single Mothers, Mary.
But always in that shadow, unseen and what is often forgotten, is the Father on earth Saint Joseph. The Father who was tending the everyday stuff. The mundane. What I view as the manna in the raising of a child. No bells and whistles, no big to-do. Just getting on with it.
It is typical to see many toy drives for poor kids this time of year. We hear ‘No child should grow up without toys at Christmas!’ And whilst I appreciate the intention and the sentiment, it also leaves me cold. As someone who has championed for the lives of children for many decades I this fit into an ‘absent father’ narrative. I often hear of men who abandon their children for the majority of the year but then show up at key dates with big expensive presents and the theatre of care. I see this in the shadow not just of absent men but also the lack of funding in the everyday in our communities. The lack of regular activities for kids to access, the lack of spaces for play.
I read somewhere ‘good kids are parented on purpose with purpose’.
When I think back to my childhood, it’s not the ‘big moments’ that allowed me to thrive, it was the constancy of both my parents in the uncelebrated minutae. The bearing witness to my life, keeping me on track.
I am glad that single Motherhood no longer has the stigma it once did. I am thankful beyond measure I have been able to witness my son’s life as he emerges into the world. It is a great privilege to be given the gift of a child. But I also pray we societally begin to venerate good Fathers once more. I cannot help but think if more men followed in the path of St. Joseph minding children in all their wonder and vulnerability the world would be a better place.
Wishing all a very Merry Christmas Season and a blessed New Year.
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