By: John Tuttle
Years ago, a copy of a Chicago Tribune magazine arrived at our house. It came around the holidays, and in it I read a rather upsetting article. It has stuck with me ever since. If that was the writer’s intent, he certainly succeeded.
In his article “Why I declared war on Christmas”, Christopher Borrelli dismissed any real threat to Christmas with a sizable dollop of sarcasm, yet remained true to his word in that he was “undermining” the authentic meaning of the season. It’s not all about happiness and good feelings. The joy of the season comes from the message of salvation: that there is such a thing as evil in this world and that God is not only more powerful than it, He comes to vanquish the devil, sin, and death. That is where the Christian’s joy comes from.
A lapsed Catholic, the CT columnist admits to going to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, mostly “out of muscle memory.” There, he witnesses the sacrifice of Calvary and bears the same humdrum joke, year after year, from the celebrant: “You know, everyone, we do this every week.” Christopher shifts irritably and thinks the priest should get some new material.
While only a lackadaisical Massgoer, Borrelli lodges a complaint to which many, even among the faithful, can relate. The monotony of words, a dry homily, or misdirected preaching can result in people tuning out. The Mass, and above all Christmas liturgies, should instead attract, calm, and vivify those who participate. Parts of the Mass or the way it is celebrated may, at times, feel humdrum, but they are never a humbug!
The Realism of the Mass and the Promise of Joy
Christianity is charged with both the realism of hardship and the optimism of God’s endless mercy. God desires our salvation, but we will face trials in striving to attain it. The Church, guided by the Holy Spirit, recognizes the full reality of the human person, the body and the soul together, and has shaped her liturgy as something to which our human nature can be receptive. All the “smells and bells” draw our attention to what’s happening in the moment and the significance of it. The Church, being an institution both human and divine, knows how easily the mind becomes distracted. The beauty of the Mass, then, is twofold: 1) To give proper honor to God and that which is sacred, and 2) To draw the participants deeper into the mystery of the Paschal sacrifice.
The gold of the chalice and ciboria is proper to their high function in the liturgy; it can also attract our eyes to these vessels which hold the God-Man, Jesus Christ. The ringing of the bells at the Consecration, the holiest part of the Mass, alerts us that something BIG is happening in front of us. It is this beauty taken in by the senses that has attracted many non-practicing Catholics and nonbelievers to attend the liturgy.
When Beauty Speaks to the Soul
Author George Saunders, who grew up in the Faith but fell away, acknowledges the debt that he, an artist, owes to the beauty of the Mass, even if he reduces it to mere metaphor, completely disregarding the sacramental reality of what takes place. E.B. White, children’s author and New Yorker opinion writer, wasn’t even Catholic. Yet, he found himself one Christmas Eve attending midnight Mass in a cathedral. “The snow, the lateness of the hour, the elaborate mysteries of the Mass,” he writes, lend their beauty to communicate to him: “this indeed was a holy time.” The beautiful communicated the holy. It left an impression on White.
Consider everyone who will be at Mass this Christmas. It’s that special time of year when many are willing to wave the snow-white truce flag of tolerance and put aside ideological differences. Mass attendants include those who married into a pious family or have fallen away but come along out of a sense of filial fondness. It might be “muscle memory” for them. Others come out of attraction or intrigue, as perhaps E.B. White did nearly a century ago. Some sources say we’re experiencing a “religious resurgence” among Gen Z in English-speaking countries like the U.S. and the U.K. (though other sources contest this claim). People are seeking peace amid the shootings, polarizing rhetoric, and all the other troubling news of the past year and beyond. They need Jesus, the Prince of Peace. As the Prophet Micah foretold, “he shall be peace” (see Micah 5:4 NAB). Peace Himself. At Mass, He is present not only spiritually but physically – in the Eucharist.
Becoming Instruments of Peace Beyond Christmas
The raw realism and tender charity of Christ, who stresses the necessity of both bearing the Cross and bestowing mercy on others, can lead us in ministering to all God’s children. Together, as a church community, we should strive for beauty in the liturgy. Homilies should stress God’s infinite love and forgiveness, despite the worst of our sins. The community should be wholeheartedly welcoming. And, if circumstances permit, we might even make the homily a talking point with our family members (both practicing and estranged) on the car ride home.
At Christmas time, and beyond, Christ will use us as His instruments, like nets drawing others to Himself. We must share our love for the Faith and our hope in Jesus. If amid the thundering canons of today’s tragedies, we can share “peace on earth, good-will to men” as one poet wrote, God might kindle hope in the hearts of the curious and crestfallen. Then they might not come to church just on Christmas, but the next week and the next.
About John
John Tuttle is a proud Catholic, husband, and father. He works as a communications coordinator/marketing specialist for a few departments in the Diocese of Rockford. He has written for Catholic World Report, The Wanderer, The Observer, An Unexpected Journal, Movieguide, VoegelinView, The Collector, and more. Among the books he has contributed to are Unexpectedly Catholic (2025) and The Crown of Roses (2025). John, his wife Ellen, and their family live in Illinois.
