My Epiphany 1-8-12

Anderson South Carolina


For some years I’ve attempted to wrap my head around the idea of Christmas as a spiritual state to which one seeks year round. Part of my efforts to do so include the less common practice of observing the Twelve Days of Christmas, doing readings through Advent, and marking the Epiphany as my observance of True Christmas – archeology aside which suggests Jesus was not born in winter at all. Another practice I’ve enjoyed is leaving all my Christmas decorations in place until at least this time of year and often much longer so as to see them under winter snow. Here on the Epiphany I have fourteen recycled Christmas trees in place whereas my neighbors sent theirs to be land filled ten days ago. This year it seems a good idea to send out cards and letters on the Epiphany instead of the old Roman holiday observed on Dec 25. Importantly, Christmas is extending in my spirit; I did not have that all-powerful sense of Christmas being suddenly over, just a blip on retail cash flow charts.

Going the other direction I put up decorations late in October and have lived in a colorful enchanted space for nearly three months. I suspect others would label me some sort of Christmas eccentric but there are certainly far worse things to be accused of; I do have a rudimentary theology in development to explain my aberrant behavior.

What’s not eccentric is trying to infuse the True Message of the holidays into the lives of those struck by the misfortunes of addiction, alcoholism, and other life adversities such as unemployment, divorce, homelessness, and perhaps worst, existential crisis. Is this all there is? What’s the point?

What had been a carefully compartmentalized chunk of my life for five years seems to have become a calling, a mission; something giving me a powerful sense of purpose and meaning. The pandemic of alcoholism and drug addiction washing over the lives of millions as a tsunami of angst and despair threatens the very foundations of our society. Finding myself a participant in the rebuilding of lives shattered by addictions is rewarding beyond measure. It’s also disheartening beyond measure. Watching a newly emerged life of recovery cut down by relapse is sometimes overwhelming. Journeys to hospitals, nursing homes, and funeral parlors to observe lives of great potential truncated by addiction are sobering, to say the least. Seeing estranged partners rebuild their marriages, regain custody of children, become gainfully employed, gain driver’s licenses, stay out of prison; this offers rewards greater than anything boxed, wrapped, and put under a Christmas tree.

Christmas Eve found me taking several recovering addicts with me to a High Christmas Mass. Watching them have eleventh step encounters with God on the kneelers during the Eucharist was the grandest of Christmas gifts. Following the Mass we indulged in a fine Italian feast prepared by the wife of one of these men, herself recovering from addiction. It’s also proven heartening to have several of them in tow with me at Sunday morning services the last several months, followed by Sunday dinner.

Many years the holidays were reminders of what I did not have. My origins in a broken alcoholic addicted family left a hole, one only filled in recent years by the broken alcoholic addicted men and women who have become part of my life seven days a week. There was no emptiness for me this year in my transit of the holiday season.

Thanksgiving Day proved epic. By my best count one hundred and five of the marginalized of society showed up for a feast lasting some twelve hours. Fifty pounds of turkey, a couple hams, and three dozen side dishes allowed the unwanted to feel wanted and welcomed in a place where they could be reminded liberation from their addictions is just a sincere prayer away. In the recovery message we are clearly told the ownership of one’s powerlessness is the portal by which one finds liberation and strength. “Our admissions of personal powerlessness finally turn out to be the firm bedrock upon which happy and purposeful lives may be built.” There was much to give thanks for in our crowded little meeting rooms.

Each year under the cover of night when no one is in or around our small cinder block building, I complete a covert operation of installing two decorated Christmas trees in the meeting rooms and stringing up lights on the store-front windows, making sure everyone knows Christmas is an all-inclusive event. Christmas Day included a menu of fifty pounds of ham and the appropriate side dishes for the eighty who showed up. For those exiting alcohol abuse, a dozen kinds of pies, cakes, and stollens was de rigueur. In a normal week I put out ten pounds of granulated sugar every three days. Cashiers in Wal-Mart often ask what I plan to do with one hundred pounds of sugar. I tell them I’m sweetening up lives and will be back for another hundred pounds in thirty days. Alcohol reduces to simple sugars and withdrawal from it produces astounding sugar cravings.

New Year’s Day is the most challenging of all for newcomers recently exiting their alcoholism and addictions. American culture and most of its holidays and sporting events are built around the copious consumption of alcohol. We had desperate men seeking refuge with us, afraid of losing their sobriety while watching the holiday bowl games. About seventy joined us on New Year’s Day to enjoy deli sandwiches and an assortment of cakes and pies I had scrounged up. Sadly, some let go of their life rings and were washed back into the hideous despair and darkness of addiction. Others stayed the course and with God’s help traversed the holidays and bowl games successfully. There is little more rewarding than to hold hands with those who observe their first holidays in solid sobriety. The hard part for me is knowing I can do little to protect these men and women, able to do little more than commit them to prayer and the care of God. Paradoxically, this is the most powerful thing I can do for them, and for myself.

Most of my days, including Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and now the Epiphany include hospital visitation, a million phone calls, hauling those without drivers licenses, chairing meetings, cleaning toilets, taking out the trash, hoping newly-leafed sobriety for these will include an interest in cleaning up after themselves.

It has been a grand year. It seems like a good time to go find a bit of breakfast and enjoy some of the Christmas trees that won’t ever see the landfill.

Blessings and good wishes for Christmas every day.