Christmas is just the beginning.

After all the anticipation and our efforts to get ready for Christmas, let's not forget to celebrate what we have been preparing for.

IT WAS THE END OF MASS ON CHRISTMAS Day, and a member of the parish staff was thanking all the people who helped make the Christmas celebration successful. A nice gesture, showing appreciation for those who otherwise might not have been recognized. But something bothered me. We're done, she seemed to be saying, Christmas is over.

Wait a minute, I thought, Advent is over. Christmas is just beginning.

I know: By the time we get to Christmas, we're so worn out from the shopping, cooking, decorating, partying, and traveling--not to mention the tremendous expectations we put on ourselves and others at this time of year--that when Christmas actually arrives, the "Christmas season" feels over and people frequently are ready to see it end.

Perhaps liturgist Gabe Huck has these same feelings in mind when he writes, in his classic Liturgy with Style and Grace (Liturgy Training Publications), "Christmas as a season may seem a lost cause." But our Christian calendar, as Huck is quick to point out, tells a different tale.

The "Christmas season" does not begin with the start of Christmas shopping and end when the last gift is unwrapped, but rather begins on Christmas. The problem arises when we cram together Advent, a season of preparation, and Christmas, a time to celebrate what we have been preparing for.

Anything we spend so much effort getting ready for, Huck reasons, is worth savoring. It should be easy. But how do we do it? For starters, maybe we should better distinguish our preparing from our celebrating. And one way to do this would be to look more deeply at these seasons and their scripture stories.

An adult Christ at Christmas

In our home we always put out the manger scene at the beginning of Advent, but we never place the infant Jesus in the crib until Christmas Eve. It may seem a little strange to have figures of Mary and Joseph looking reverently at an empty crib for four weeks, but this "empty" manger says we know the whole story: We cannot dwell on the baby without talking about what happened to the adult.

The stories around the birth of Jesus look not only to how he entered the world but to his whole life, what he did, his calling of disciples, his death, his Resurrection, and how his modern-day disciples--that's us--look back at and respond to all of these events today.

The Advent Sunday readings start with a shocker. No material for nativity plays here, but an adult Jesus, and he's issuing warnings--about the end of the world, about being on guard for the "appointed time," the "day your Lord is coming." Then we hear of John the Baptist, who makes ready the way of the Lord, who proclaims a baptism of repentance and cries out in the wilderness, "Reform your lives!" Only then do we hear of the Annunciation of Jesus' birth to Mary.

In hearing these calls to get ready, to prepare ourselves for Christ's coming by changing our lives and attending to the things of God, we wait not just for the coming of the baby Jesus but for the adult Jesus as well and for what he calls us to--our responsibilities as adult believers.

The late Catholic biblical scholar Father Raymond E. Brown, who spent a great part of his life studying the birth and death stories of Jesus, called one of his books An Adult Christ at Christmas. His work shows us how the stories of Jesus' birth, as told in Matthew and Luke, display a pattern: The Good News is proclaimed, and the response is twofold--some believe the message, and some reject it. "The Infancy Narratives of Matthew and Luke are whole gospels," Brown writes. "They contain the basic revelation of the full identity of Jesus and the way in which this revelation was quickly shared with others, evangelizing some, but causing rejection and hatred among others."

This pattern repeats itself later in the gospels in the reactions to Jesus' words and deeds and to his Resurrection, and has continued into our own time. Those who witness the Nativity--the Magi, the shepherds, and Mary herself--are the forerunners of Christian believers, those who when they "hear the word, receive it with joy" (Luke 8:13).

Even in the story of the presentation of the child Jesus in the Temple, where the holy family is amazed by the rejoicing of Simeon and Anna, Simeon foretells opposition to Jesus and a sword that will pierce Mary's heart because she will witness the various reactions to Jesus.

"There is nevertheless a solemn warning that this child is set for the fall as well as the rise of many in Israel, a sign to be contradicted who will cause the hostile thoughts of many to be revealed," Brown writes. "In other words, the Christmas crib lies in the shadow of the cross; the gospel is always a factor that produces judgment."

Matthew and Luke put together their gospels, including the stories of Jesus' infancy, from the point of view of their faith in the Resurrection of Jesus. They knew how the story turned out, and so they read Christ's death and Resurrection not only into his ministry but also back into his birth. We read the whole of Jesus' life into these stories because the gospel authors put it there. By seeing the adult Jesus in the infant, we prepare for Christ's coming by reorienting our lives, and we celebrate Christ's coming by choosing to place ourselves with those who believe.

The purple connection

The crib in the shadow of the cross. An un-Christmas-like image, perhaps, but one that points to the deep connection between Advent and Lent, Christmas and Easter. Not only in scripture, but also in these seasons themselves one can grasp the difference--and the connection--between preparing and celebrating.

Symbolized in the shared colors of purple in Advent and Lent (OK, Advent's color is really violet), and white in Christmas and Easter, we move from preparation to celebration, from repentance to joy. In Advent we deepen our anticipation and longing, but not just for what we want Christmas to be--a homecoming feast of joy, peace, blessing, music, light, and family. All things in Advent point toward becoming ready to recognize Jesus as the Lord at Christmas, just as in Lent all things point toward becoming ready to recognize the resurrected Jesus at Easter when we welcome the arrival of the great light of eternal life. Both Christmas and Easter celebrate the communion of divine and human life.

Both Christmas and Easter also contain vigils--Mass on Christmas Eve and the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday night--holy nights, when a great light comes into the world: at Christmas, Jesus' birth into the world; at Easter, his birth (and ours, as well) into eternal life. At Christmas, Gabe Huck writes, something is born again in all of us: the assurance of how much a part of us God has chosen to be. God shares divine life with us and raises us to it, just as at Easter God raises Jesus--and us--to eternal life.

Back to the manger

So to all who feel their Christmas joy is over before it really starts, I would say, "Look at the stories. Look at the seasons."

This child Jesus, "destined for the fall and the rising of many," cries out to us across the ages to prepare once again for his coming and to celebrate this rebirth of faith by believing. And these seasons, Advent and Christmas, form us to recognize the light of the world and to celebrate that light as birthday festival of our great life with God.

And maybe the hallowed manger scene--empty crib or not--holds a truth for us after all.

Manger scenes, bequeathed to us by pious early Franciscans, sometimes contain an impossible collection of witnesses to Jesus' birth: The magi from Matthew's gospel rub shoulders with the shepherds from Luke's and an array of animals not mentioned in the gospel stories at all (not to omit that uniquely American contribution, the praying Santa Claus).

I like something, however, in these inaccuracies. They recall the custom of painters of Christian scenes to include likenesses of their patrons who commissioned the paintings as figures in the paintings. Does not the manger do the same, calling believers from beyond the confines of space and time to follow the star, heed the angel's words, and worship at this holy scene?

What's so compelling about Advent, like Lent, is its call to be attentive, to ready our recognition of what God calls us to do in our lives. And what's so compelling about Christmas, like Easter, is our placing ourselves with those who believe in the presence of God and in the possibility of resurrected life. By doing so we prepare for and celebrate these great mysteries--and have enough energy for both.

How to celebrate the 12 days of Christmas

Saint Stephen's Day (Dec. 26): "Boxing Day" has nothing to do with sports. Its name comes from people handing out "Saint Stephen's almsboxes" of food and clothing to those in need. The gifts were gathered during Advent. Make this the day for writing checks to charity and giving to postal and sanitation workers.

Saint John's Day (Dec 27): Custom identifies John, one the 12 apostles, with the "beloved disciple" of the Gospel according to John. One of today's scripture readings is the Easter story of the beloved disciple running to Jesus' tomb, looking into the empty tomb and believing. There's a lot of Easter in every Christmas.

Holy Innocent's Day (Dec. 28): In today's feast, as our year dwindles down, we proclaim that when time itself will stop, Christ will call all creation to rise together in praise. Today is also called "Childermas"--the children are the "innocents"--a feast for every child, innocent or not (on this day they get the benefit of the doubt). Zoos and planetariums are good places to take children this Season; it just wouldn't be Christmas without animals and stars.

Saint Sylvester's Day/New Year's Eve (Dec. 31): Saint Sylvester, a fourth-century pope, said that for Christians all days are holy. If we live with an eye to eternity, every day can be a feast Go a little crazy at midnight--crazy enough to forget old wrongs, to hug neighbors, to make such a joyful noise that winter, death, and the devil are frightened into oblivion. New Year's Eve is a little like the end of the world. There's an awesomeness and power to this night Some people take a quiet walk sometime this night, even if it's just as a respite from the fun. Reflect on the mystery of the arrival of Christ and on the old made new.

New Year's Day (Jan. 1): Almost everywhere people try to live this day the way we'd like to live all year long. New Year's Day is a great day for treasuring our own family histories. Bring out the family albums and fill the room with candles and carols. Then let the storytelling begin. Turn off TVs, telephones, and cameras.

The Epiphany of the Lord (Jan. 6): So what if Epiphany is a mouthful. It means appearing, manifesting, revealing. Epiphany traditions are chock-full of hospitality, generosity, and imagination. We want to recognize Christ in our sisters and brothers, taking our cue from the Magi, who went to great lengths to meet the Lord. A Danish proverb says that Christmas remains in the home as long as there is hospitality to guests and outgoing kindness to strangers. So let's keep Christmas as long as we can! In the march of seasons, Epiphany can be the grand finale and the even grander beginning to a new year of grace. --Peter Mazar

Excerpted with permission from Winter: Celebrating the Season in a Christian Home, by Peter Mazar, [C] 1996, Archdiocese of Chicago: Liturqy Training Publications, 1800 N. Hermitage Ave., Chicago, IL 60622-1101, Phone [phone], Fox 800-933-7094.

JOEL SCHORN, associate editor of U.S. CATHOLIC