When I was a little girl, Christmas was basically over once we ate our big meal and opened all our gifts. In fact, my dad used to start taking the tree down pretty much as soon as we cleaned up all the wrapping paper. (To be fair, we had a real Christmas tree back then and by that point my dad was tired of watering it, and it was probably getting dry anyway. Now he leaves the artificial tree up past Christmas.) When I had my own house, I knew I was going to leave my tree up until New Year’s Day. It just made sense. After all, it takes so long to put it up! When my kids were younger, we had friends over for New Year’s Eve parties, so of course all the decorations stayed up to keep the house festive.
I did not grow up in a faith tradition that observed Christmastide or Epiphany. The first I remember hearing about this way of observing Christmas was from my Catholic friends several years ago, but this year, I decided to do some reading about it. Christmastide dates all the way back to 567 AD, when the Catholic Church officially declared the Twelve Days of Christmas as a sacred celebration following the Feast of the Nativity on December 25th. Christmastide begins where Advent ends—Christmas Eve—and lasts twelve days, which will usually coincide near Epiphany, the day designated to commemorate the Magi’s visit to the Christ child.
Consider for a moment the significance of Christmas. The God of the universe—the Maker of heaven and earth, the One who holds all things together by the power of His word (Hebrews 1:3), the immortal Alpha and Omega—became mortal and left the glories of heaven to put on flesh so that He could one day die.He created the tree that would become His cross, the hill on which He would die, and He created the men who would mock Him, pierce Him, and press crown of thorns upon His head (Isaiah 45:12, Colossians 1:16-17). And He did all of this so that you and I could be spared from the death sentence we deserve for sinning against Him. He died in our place (1 Peter 2:24). He took our punishment upon Himself. Doesn’t it seem as though something of that magnitude should be celebrated for more than one day?
The days after Christmas are less busy. The rush of shopping, wrapping, cooking, work and school parties, and family get-togethers is over. Work schedules are more relaxed. Kids are home from school. Instead of this time becoming a haze of indulging on left overs and holiday candy, what if we reclaim this time for Christ? We can use the slower pace to give our hearts room to ponder the wonder of God’s gift of mercy and salvation.
I realize it’s too late for this year, as we are nearing the end of Christmastide. (Writing this was one of the things I meant to do two weeks ago.) So tuck this away for next year. In fact, you now have plenty of time to think about meaningful ways to observe the season next year. Maybe you’ll light a candle each day and read a scripture about the promised Messiah. Maybe you’ll take some time to map out a Bible reading plan for the coming year. We can also use these days to finally do some of the things we meant to do before December 25th—before the calendar and the chaos got in the way. Maybe you’ll try the new cookie recipe you didn’t get around to, or send Christmas cards—or even New Year’s cards—that never made it into the mail. (I’ve been doing that!) You might take an afternoon to visit a lonely elderly friend, or stop in to see a neighbor and share some of those cookies. I think this approach has an indirect effect on the days leading up to Christmas as well. When you know you don’t have to do everything by December 25th, the season feels less rushed.
And while I’m making suggestions, here’s one more: don’t take down all of the Christmas decorations when the new year arrives. Put away the stockings and the Santas and anything that is overtly Christmas, but consider leaving out things that feel more “winter”—snowmen, evergreen, and especially white lights or candles. It helps that feeling of coziness and quiet joy last through the dark and gloomy days of winter. In our home, I keep out a few small pencil trees with nothing but white lights. I have a medium-sized tree that I convert from red-and-green Christmas décor to a woodland, snow-themed tree—again, with white lights. And on the mantel, Santa gives way to a winter display in white and silver (yes, still with lights). It’s a simple way to let the warmth of Christmas fade gently instead of disappearing overnight. We might call it cozy—or even borrow the Danish word hygge—but there’s something deeply fitting about keeping light in our homes during the darkest season of the year. “Light has come into the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” John 1:5.
Looking back, I realize I may have been observing something like Christmastide all along—leaving the lights up, letting Christmas linger—without knowing there was a name for it. Maybe that says something about a deeper longing we all share: not to rush past the mystery of Christmas, but to stay with it a little longer.
So, I’m bringing back Christmastide. Who wants to join me?
