Simplicity: The Soul of Christmas

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Simplicity is the soul of Christmas. God revels in simplicity. An adolescent mother, a caring young father. A long arduous journey just to give their names in the town where the man’s family has roots. Humbly asking for a place to stay and offered only a shelter for animals. The first visitors are shepherds who, by custom, are not allowed to enter the Temple because they cannot keep the ‘rules’ for certain foods and regulations for cleanliness. The stable becomes their temple. God loves their whistles and flutes carved from trees, made to ease the boredom of long nights watching their sheep. God loves simplicity.

Allow me to tell you a story of simplicity in celebration of the birth of Christ. Two members of my religious community were identical twins. Sisters Therese and Florence weren’t even 5 feet tall; I think they were only a little over 4 feet tall. They were constantly together. When they were assigned to teach in the same school, they became fiendishly involved. They were primary level teachers who would play tricks on their students such as exchanging classes without the kids catching on. Conversations with students often went as follows: “John, who told you to take the erasers from the chalkboard and clean them?”  “You did Sister.” “No, I did not.” Exasperated, John says, “Yes you did Sister.” All the children would affirm poor John. Then, in walked her twin. “No. Sister didn’t tell you to do that John. I did.”  You can imagine the laughter of the flummoxed children. Therese and Florence were amazing teachers, perhaps because they were not only on the same physical plane as their students, but because they were simple in their love of life and their love for God.

When they retired to our Motherhouse, they were already wearing lay clothes. This continued the difficulty of telling them apart. They wore the very same color and style of clothes sending a little boy wandering in Krogers screaming to his mother: “Mommy there’s a lady here who is double, like cut in half!” 

During their first Christmas at the Motherhouse, the two sisters noticed that Jesus was placed in an empty manger with no blanket on Christmas morning, outside in the cold at the entrance of the long driveway leading to the Motherhouse. Jesus without a blanket? They would not have any of that. So, they made a baby blanket and hiked out into the snow-topped long, grassy area and wrapped the Baby in their blanket. They retrieved the blanket when the crib scene was dismantled, washed it, and wrapped it up for next Christmas. For several following years, the twin sisters made their pilgrimage to the crib scene to arrange their blanket for Jesus. To witness this was to see an updated version of Come to the Stable in real life. The early morning was still dark, and the two tiny figures would amble out to the crib scene, wrap the blanket carefully around Jesus and then fold their hands in prayer for the many intentions they carried to Him.

One year, however, someone stole Baby Jesus and the blanket. Oh my! What to do now? Simple. The twins made another blanket, and the crib scene mounted security. Out to the scene the two sisters went but it would be their last personal hike to the scene. Their walking was getting more difficult, presenting dangers of falling on the slippery hillside. Ah! A solution was simple. They asked a kind and approachable maintenance worker to perform their task, but he would do it on Christmas Eve at midnight when he placed Jesus in the manger. They watched from their window saying their customary prayers. According to the maintenance man, he cried when the sisters asked him to wrap Jesus for them. I picture him turning and waving to his two little champions of simplicity.

Reflection

This is the season of gentle, moving music, hymns appropriate for crib scenes where we can hear the restlessness of animals, the breeze of desert palms, the crying of a Child who needs to be fed, the slow trudge of the footsteps of fearful, roughly clad shepherds and the bleating of their sheep. The sounds of poverty. This is a season of giving comfort, especially to children. Sisters Therese and Florence (affectionately called, Flossie) were master teachers who loved every day of some 50 years, I believe, in the classroom. They allowed the little ones to teach them life’s lessons while they taught the children academic lessons. When Flossie died, she was buried on the anniversary of Therese’s death in early December. Sister Cookie Crowley, from whom I got this story, went out that Christmas to the manger scene and wrapped Baby Jesus in memory of two remarkable simple women.

Some of us will think this is just another pious seasonal story. But I knew these women. They weren’t merely pious. They lived simplicity: wise, not judgmental; serving others without attracting attention; connecting childlike faith to adult reality. This is the story of how a long life of humility and simplicity can bring a person to deeper faith believing through the innocence of a child.

Does anything in this story say something to you?

What are some ways we can be simpler in our faith?

How can we get into the spirit of a simple Christmas?

Be sure to give yourself some special, quiet time for reflection during this holiday time. Try some simple prayers and reading especially Luke’s Gospel of the Birth of Jesus. 

I wish each of you: My readers, my Anonymous Angels who send beautiful responses, a very Blessed Christmas. You are all in my prayers.