Christians rise! the world is bare and bleak and dark with want and care

It can be difficult to push oneself to work hard only for one's own self. (I have written about this before.) This year I had lofty plans for my Thanksgiving. Even if I was to spend it alone, I intended to feast sumptuously: turkey, gravy, pie, and wine. I was going to take excellent care of myself. Then I invited a guest and looked forward to sharing the celebration. A day or two before the holiday, I felt my own weariness and I knew absolutely that, were I not expecting a guest, I would have cancelled my feast. I might have made a bowl of popcorn or a plate of eggs and called it a day. I would have forgone the whole thing--too much effort to do it all just for myself.

I think there is a tendency, at least in myself, to sink to such a comfortable kind of laziness in many areas of life. It's just me, so why bother? It's only for myself, so why go to any trouble? I only have myself to care for, so I needn't work too hard--I don't need much.

If I hadn't roused the energy to cook the feast, I wouldn't have been able to share it with anyone on Thanksgiving Day. I knew someone would be coming over, and so I cooked and tidied up and cleaned house--all things I wanted to do for myself, but would not have done. And the day was lovely. Knowing there is a definite someone to work for and with, a definite someone with whom to share things can be an excellent stimulant. And that is a perfectly fine thing.

The next step, the next goal or project, is to work for an indefinite someone, toward indefinite others with whom to share things. To be ready to share one's surplus, to be ready to be a generous host, to be ready to give what one has made, even without a known recipient or guest to anticipate. To be ready in case Someone comes.

If you want to hear the angels commanding you to share what you've got, then you've got to get something to share:

If ye would hear the angels sing

    "Peace on earth and mercy mild,"

    Think of him who was once a child,

On Christmas Day in the morning.

If ye would hear the angels sing,

    Rise, and spread your Christmas fare;

    'Tis merrier still the more that share,

On Christmas Day in the morning.

Rise and bake your Christmas bread:

    Christians, rise! the world is bare,

    And blank, and dark with want and care,

Yet Christmas comes in the morning.

If ye would hear the angels sing,

    Rise, and light your Christmas fire:

    And see that ye pile the logs still higher

On Christmas Day in the morning.

Rise, and light your Christmas fire;

    Christians, rise! the world is old,

    And Time is weary, and worn, and cold,

Yet Christmas comes in the morning.

If ye would hear the angels sing,

    Christians! see ye let each door

    Stand wider than it e'er stood before,

On Christmas Day in the morning.

Rise, and open wide the door;

    Christians, rise! the world is wide,

    And many there be that stand outside,

Yet Christmas comes in the morning. 

--Dora Greenspan