…that season that attempts to kill every ounce of joy you possess, pound it out of every atom of your being, eradicate any possible elevation of heart and mind, till the only thing that remains at its culmination is either that moment of selfish excitement from the new iPod under the tree or the sanctimonious satisfaction of acknowledging the greatest, most astounding event in the history of all mankind by completely disregarding its celebration.
You know. Advent.
Today’s particular set off was the offhanded comment of a man who just gave his kids cash, let them pick their own gifts at Wal-mart, then wrapped them and put them under the tree.
That’s even worse than giving someone a gift card.
That telling children fairy stories about Santa is inherently lying to them also made an appearance today, but I don’t have time to get into it right now.
But really, both the materialist side and the sanctimonious side are making real, honest, human joy increasingly difficult.