I enjoy the writings of Joshua Gibbs. His penchant for making a wham-bang point through gentle storytelling means the message percolates in me long after the book’s pages are closed.

So it is with the first essay “A Better World” from his 2020 book about Christmas entitled The 25th. Not to give too much away, but he sets up a little science-fiction scenario (life has been so strange lately, science fiction doesn’t seem exotic . . . but I digress). Basically, he posits, what if creatures from a different world came to earth for a limited period of time each year? They look like us and integrate themselves easily among us, doing virtually the same things we do (going to school and work, overseeing the family, walking the dog), but, in fact, these alien creatures are tuned into a different ethos—one filled with caring, concern, and rejoicing.

He uses this scenario to comment upon the four-to-six-week period when we moderns are transformed by what is called the Spirit of Christmas. Holidays come and go throughout the year (although observed ever less faithfully). Yet no holiday beyond Christmas becomes a season or is embraced so visibly as to affect our societal behavior.

At Christmastime, people tend to embrace traditions more ardently and adopt attitudes rarely seen at other times of the year. Fortunately, in some places, traditions do not wane, so the idea of a renewed appreciation for tradition is superfluous at best. But in the United States, as fragmented as we have become since the Second World War, even the word “tradition” itself has become suspect.

Except at Christmas. Then, suddenly, across a set of weeks, folks rise up and decorate the inside and outside of their homes. They mail paper missives (cards) to each other. They eat foods not otherwise eaten (who races home for spiced cider and candy canes in April?). They nurture the family unit (board-game sales do not spike August) and bake cookies with rabid fever. And, best of all, they hum seasonal tunes with aplomb (Christmas music: the only body of folk  music commonly held in today’s America, to borrow an observation from composer Julie Giroux).

Even more significantly, those who merely nod to neighbors all year are known to invite these same neighbors to open houses. As a culture, people seem to speak more kindly to one another and notice things that are sweet or cute. Folks seem palpably more eager to help one another. The final touch? Many who never go to church find themselves shedding a tear at Silent Night as the candlelight spreads across the darkened church.

So how do you explain all of this, Gibbs asks tongue in cheek, if not through a subtle invasion by alien creatures?

Just as ancient men were accustomed to an angel descending from time to time to stir up the miracle-working waters of a certain pool, so modern men are accustomed to the yearly descent of Christmas, a world separate from our own which nonetheless overlays our world like a gold tapestry.

Gibbs, The 25th pp. 4-5.

His is a lovely essay and it has given me pause. Granted, it would be impossible, counter-productive even, to keep the fever pitch of Christmas for 12 months a year, or even 12 weeks! That is why Christmas is a two-week season, preceded by a different, important preparatory season called Advent. The fact is: only the specialness of Christmas makes it special. (Yes, I wrote that sentence, so let the fourth-grade teacher inside us decry it.)

But stripping cheerfulness out of the equation, consider how the Christmas Season evokes actions that involve uplifted feelings and positive changes. We try to heal strains that divide us and seek ways to help. We worry about our own souls differently, too. Overall, we acknowledge that the world works better if spiritual values and principles guide and guard us. The secular world pushes furiously back on these ideas. But we seem able to resist that push at Christmastide.

As the upturned bucket of the pandemic slowly rights itself, we may have turned a corner. (I know news reports do not support my feeling, but news is the last place I look for Truth.) What if a crest has been reached throughout the months of global shutdown? It makes sense that would happen. Across history, humans have always risen from their difficulties and returned to their roots and values. There is evidence this is happening once again.

Yes, I know, I know. It can all be dragged down by the next wave of dismal tweets. But the spirit of renewal and restoration Gibbs examines does not depend on news. Nor does it skip a year. If anything, it shows itself in more abundance at the darkest times. Consider how people have found ways to celebrate the essence of Christmas during the most horrific of conditions: war, deprivation, and imprisonment. Complacency and degradation always wait outside the door to destroy. But I believe we are better equipped, after this stretch of dark months, to gainsay their right to knock.

These last days of Advent afford an opportunity to talk to your kids about the “Spirit of Christmas.” Have some fun, but think about its power to restore and invigorate. Whether you chuckle at Gibbs’ metaphor or not, it’s hard to deny that something comes down at Christmas. You may want to refer to Christine Rossetti’s lovely poem Love Came Down at Christmas featured in this calendar a few days ago, as well as poetic and scriptural allusions to the descent of God’s angels to shower glory in the form of Baby Jesus.

Even the smallest child who views Christmas through the excitement of Santa can identify and feel the onset of the seasonal spirit of tenderness and generosity. With a bit of encouragement, all of us (big and little) can grasp this spirit, tuck it in our pockets, and retain a bit of Christmastime to uplift us all year around.