Advent 2020: Unwrappable Gifts
As a writer and creator for Cornell Claritas, I often think of the things we produce and publish—everything from articles, to podcasts, to visual art, to poetry, and everything in between—as gifts to our audience. While the act of creating can feel so personal to one’s own experience, once that creation is released for publication, making its way into the hearts and minds of those who read, see, or listen to it, it ceases to be the artist’s alone. It belongs to the spectator now, with the artist left hoping that it becomes half as meaningful or comforting to consume as it was to create. That’s part of why this fall’s Expressions of Faith series, curated by Blog Manager Kim St. Fleur, has been so meaningful: creative expression is so much more than a hobby; it can be lifeline to both creator and recipient, and a refection of our own Creator’s artistic nature.
But for this year’s Claritas Advent—one of my favorite blog series we plan each year—we wanted to share something a little different. We wanted to share those creations, memories, pieces of art and pieces of inspiration that have been gifts unto us during this quite difficult year. Joy, beauty, light, and hope can be found in so many places, all reflecting the ultimate Light and Hope that inspires us this season: the one great, final, unwrappable gift that was born unto the world in the form of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
I hope that the following 11 vignettes from our writers, designers, and team members serve as unwrappable gifts to you as we end the long waiting period of Advent and enter into the joy of Christmas. As for my own “unwrappable gift”? My fellow team members will be unsurprised to hear that it’s Taylor Swift’s jubilant Christmas single, “Christmas Tree Farm.” May we all harbor “sweet dreams of holly and ribbon” where “mistakes are forgiven / and everything is icy and blue… / and you would be there too.”
Peace of Christ,
Brooke Lindsey
Claritas Editor-in-Chief Fall 2020
BY CLARITAS STAFF 2020
J. K.
I recently found my old mini basketball hoop, and I realized that my parents' new condo has a room that seems perfectly made by God for a game of mini basketball. I put the hoop up and used tape to mark out three-point and free throw lines. After classes, I have been spending my afternoons playing mini basketball like I did when I was a kid. Mini basketball has become my escape from isolation and excessive screen time, as I imagine the day I can return to five-on-five pickup games at Helen Newman Gym.
S. B.
Every Christmas Eve my mom wraps a pair of pajamas for myself and my three sisters and places them outside of our bedroom doors. I don’t know why, but this simple tradition feels like a preparation to Christmas Day. Sort of like an invitation to have peace and rest on such in such a busy season. When we all wear our fresh pajamas on Christmas morning while reading the Nativity story, I can’t help but smile.
K. M.
I love looking through Google Photos and seeing memories from years ago. I enjoy reminiscing and realizing how much has happened since those photos were taken.
C. C.
My Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar!!
Z. L.
This might be a shameless plug for my previous ADD-Vent piece but Reach Record's project The Gift has truly been that in this advent and Christmas time. So often I think that repetition can mitigate the potency of the story of the birth of the King, and songs off The Gift go deeper and give more shape to the stories and messages explored in traditional Advent or Christmas songs. There's a comfort in the familiarity of the arrangements ("Angels We Have Heard on High" becomes "Angels", "O Come All Ye Faithful" becomes "O Come") but a creative imagination in exploring the story. Soulful and uplifting music for sure.
T. Z.
Adversity, in general, often yields the best gifts in life. Moments that disprove our assumptions offer a valuable opportunity to see the world with new clarity. Vulnerability can push us to build support systems and strengthen our relationships. Emotional pain provides the basis for empathy and can fuel our drive to make the world better.
P. M. G.
Peanuts. No, not the kind you eat, but the cartoon characters created by Charles M. Schulz back in the 1950s. As my family begins to decorate and do Advent devotionals, slowly but surely our home fills with all things Snoopy and Charlie Brown—the bathroom, floor to ceiling, covered with Peanuts characters full of Christmas cheer; the big blow up Snoopy on our front lawn; the Charlie Brown ornament on our tree; the mugs in our kitchen; the jazzy Vince Guaraldi Trio soundtrack playing from every corner. Our great love for the Peanuts gang might seem silly, but it's quite special to me. Ever since I went off to college, I've come home each year to a new Peanuts gift. It was a moment of coming together, a merry, delightful symbol that the Holiday season was upon us. I remember once, during those cold, gloomy days leading up to winter break, feeling unbearably homesick. It was my first year at Cornell and my first time being thousands of miles away from my family. Out of the blue, my dad sent me a recording of him listening to Peanuts' "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," a personal favorite of ours. I remember welling up as I heard the peaceful tune over grainy static, listening to my dad express the same sadness I felt. And then, in Advent-like fashion, he said he was full of joy awaiting my return, hopeful of the goodness yet to come. To me, Peanuts is a reminder of both the longing to be home and the comfort of being home. During this especially difficult Advent season, riddled with loss and uncertainty, I am comforted by my family's traditions: concluding our Advent huddled together in the warmth of our home, watching A Charlie Brown Christmas. And, as Linus begins to quote Luke 2: 8-14, reminding us what Christmas is all about, we are filled with expectant joy for the coming of the King.
S. T.
"I know the sorrow, and I know the hurt/ Would all go away if You'd just say the word/ But even if You don't/ My hope is You alone." Often times, there are songs people fall in love with and play on repeat. This might last for a week or two, or even a month before they move on. But a year has passed and "Even If" by MercyMe still remains my favorite worship song. Its lyrics give me the strength to look towards God in difficult times, whether it's when the stress of examinations begin to weigh heavily on my mind or when I get lost in spiraling thoughts. "Even If" reminds me that life is not easy but trusting in God is. God has the power to save me from whatever struggle I am going through, but even if He does not, I know I can still trust in Him. He has never given us a reason not to. I find peace in singing along as MercyMe croons, "It is well with my soul," because truly, all is well with my soul when God is my hope.
E. N.
One of my treasured memories is seeing my friends in senior year at high school before winter break, at the same time last year. We coordinated what to wear, took pictures, and chatted with each other during our lunch break or study hall, knowing it was our last Christmas together before graduation. The joy, unity, and hope for the future we felt is so needed now. This Christmas, I recommend calling a friend you haven't seen in a while to catch up: it would be so special because steadfast friendships are a gift and can sustain us even in difficult times.
E. H.
Instead of buying me a gift for Christmas, my parents give me hóngbāo, a customary red envelope with money inside of it. Traditionally, my mom takes the free red envelopes from the bank, googles an English Christmas card, and copies the message onto the envelope. I used to be so resentful that she didn't put much thought into my Christmas presents, but this year I'm looking forward to it. In a year of countless disappointments caused by COVID-19, I'm unable to truly feel at home - my mom's cheesy red envelope is the only tradition and normalcy I'll have this Christmas.
A. C.
O come, O come, and be our God-with-us
O long-sought With-ness for a world without,
O secret seed, O hidden spring of light.
Come to us Wisdom, come unspoken Name
Come Root, and Key, and King, and holy Flame,
O quickened little wick so tightly curled,
Be folded with us into time and place,
Unfold for us the mystery of grace
And make a womb of all this wounded world.
O heart of heaven beating in the earth,
O tiny hope within our hopelessness
Come to be born, to bear us to our birth,
To touch a dying world with new-made hands
And make these rags of time our swaddling bands.