What’s that lying in the manger?
A traditional nativity by Gerald von Honthorst, 1622
by Pringle Franklin
Last weekend, a friend took her grandchildren shopping for Advent calendars, the kind with numbered windows to help count the days until December 25th. She visited three large chain stores, but found only Star Wars, Legos, or Santa Claus “in the manger”. Apparently, the Advent calendar has been updated and restyled to exclude Baby Jesus.
What happened to Mary and Joseph? What about the shepherds and the bright, shining star? And where have they put the beloved, newborn Prince of Peace? In the imagery of my girlhood in the 1960s and ’70s, the Christ child was readily found, nestled in a bed of straw with a glittery halo above his sacred head.
How I adored my Advent calendars; how I savored opening a new window each day. It thrilled me to discover the hidden pictures: perhaps an angel, a lamb, or the magi’s gift in an exotic alabaster jar. Even when I was old enough to drive a car, I continued lifting the flaps, reusing the same, worn-out calendars year after year. I would press them between the pages of a heavy book during the interim months between Advents, trying to flatten the crinkled windows shut again.
A mural in the hill country of Bethlehem.
During the childhood of my children, in the 1990s and 2000s, the imagery on Advent calendars began to shift. More often, the main picture showed homespun Courier and Ives sleigh rides or snow-covered, Bavarian villages with garlanded spruce trees and festive carolers. But these calendars retained the nativity images under the flaps, Some even began to include tiny chocolates in various Christmas shapes.
Usually I would buy two calendars, one with the little candies, and one (far less exciting to the children) which spooned out the nativity story day by day; these simple calendars helped our household establish that in December, we count down to the birth of Jesus.
Such was my friend’s intention as she set out on her quest with a gaggle of grandchildren in tow. Helpful employees at Target scrambled to assist her, but alas, the over-stocked shelves held no Christian Advent calendars.
Worst of all, few shoppers seem to have noticed the shift from the humble manger to the Galactic war zone. Like a rocket which orbits around the North Pole, our society fixates on Santa and even suggests that we are rather narrow minded if we cleave to the Christ in Christmas.
Perhaps we should not be surprised. At church, our minister often reminds us that we live in a post-Christian era. The shift in focus is much bigger than Advent calendars. More and more, we are becoming like Narcissus, lost in self absorption.
Just think for a moment about this pivot. In my youth, I spent hours climbing trees and sitting in the woods by a little creek, drinking in the uplifting scenery of nature and allowing my imagination to wander. I caught salamanders with my hands; listened to birds warbling from the leafy branches above; trekked through woodland trails, trying to be as stealthy as an Indian brave, giving names to the various landmarks (fallen tree, devil’s cliff, splashy falls) in an attempt to map the terrain in my heart and in my mind.
Such quiet and solitude drew my child’s soul closer to God. It filled my heart with peace.
Today, people rarely permit themselves to invest in introspection. Instead, during leisure time, they obsessively compare their lives, their looks, their accomplishments, even their children, to those being presented (shall we say, curated) by friends on social media. What’s more, if an unsettling emotion should surface, people escape from their deeper thoughts and longings by binge watching sexually graphic and violent movies on demand. If they feel the need to connect with a fellow human, they devour the junk-food of text messages rather than investing time and energy into authentic conversations.
Take a visual survey when you are out in public. Notice that the majority of people between the ages of 16 and 60 years old are constantly on their smart phones, even while driving, standing in a check-out line, or — gasp — having a meal with someone. They rarely take a break from the jarring noise and flashing images on devices which slice their ability to concentrate and interrupt their attempts at higher thinking.
Could this be why so many suffer from anxiety, depression, isolation, and feelings of inadequacy? These emotional toxins are especially ravaging to our young adults, who lack the grounding found in the mundane, quiet living which existed before people were constantly plugged in. Without this understanding of the soul and its deeper needs, people are cracking under the pressures of modern life and its myriad demands and choices.
The solution involves recognizing the shift and pivoting back toward purity and simplicity. To be healthy, each person needs enough interior space to receive the reassuring presence of God’s indwelling love. The noise, stress, fears, and clamoring of humankind will try to draw us away from our Creator. Yet the door to peace is always available, as it lies within.
To enter, it only requires intention and a smidgen of faith. If a person will slip away to solitude and sit in stillness, inviting God to pour his radiance into her heart, she (or he) will begin to grasp “how wide, and how long, and how high, and how deep is the love of Christ”, to paraphrase St. Paul in Ephesians Chapter 3. This interior work is most effective when done regularly, particularly in the early morning.
If we accept the substitute of a box of Legos in the manger, we are adding materialism and subtracting spiritual joy. We are losing touch with the very thing which elevates humankind above the carnal world: our souls.
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https://www.catholiccompany.com/peaceful-nativity-advent-calendar-i122625/?sku=3010023&utm_source=google&utm_medium=products&mrkgcl=254&mrkgadid=3273508919&aid=3317&product_id=3010023&adpos=1o2&creative=248604084619&device=c&matchtype=&network=g&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIzYHLtfyI3wIVQVmGCh25vwkKEAQYAiABEgKyyPD_BwEHappily, I found a Catholic website which carries an Advent calendar straight out of Bethlehem, with both pictures and Bible verses inside the windows. Seizing the moment, I ordered five (some to keep, some to share). 
