Opinion
Constitution making:
A layman’s view
by ROHANA R. WASALA
‘At least since Rousseau’s Social Contract and the end of the divine right of kings, the state has been seen as party to a contract with the people – a contract to guarantee or supply the necessary order in society. Without the state’s soldiers, police and the apparatus of control, we are told, gangs or brigands would take over our streets. Extortion, rape, robbery and murder would rip away the last threads of the “thin veneer of civilization.”’ – Alvin Toffler, Powershift, 1990.
The late Alvin Toffler (American writer, journalist, educator, and businessman) says this while reflecting on the nature of power as one of the most basic social phenomena. ‘Power……implies a world that combines both chance, necessity, chaos and order.’ According to him, we humans ‘share an irrepressible, biologically rooted craving for a modicum of order in our daily lives, along with a hunger for novelty. It is the need for order that provides the main justification for the very existence of government’.
Sri Lankans are currently experiencing, in the raw, a taste of the evils that Toffler says the absence of order would breed, which makes constitution making interesting for them. But what is a constitution? Google offers a simple definition of the term: ‘a body of fundamental principles or established precedents according to which a state or other organization is acknowledged to be governed’.
Now, Professor Jayadeva Uyangoda (‘A very wrong approach to Constitution-making’/The Island/September 29, 2020) opines that the proposed 20A has ‘several major defects’. One key fault, according to him, is that the approach adopted for drafting the amendment is ‘very wrong’. JU offers a number of reasons to explain this alleged wrongness of the ‘approach’: the ‘sponsors and framers’ (I suppose the phrase means the politicians and the legal experts behind the drafting of 20A) refuse to learn ‘constructive lessons from past constitutional reform experiments’, but they have learned some ‘partisan, narrow-minded, politically short-sighted ones’. What he probably means by this becomes clear (not clear enough though) in the rest of his article, but it is doubtful whether his sense of right and wrong in the context is shared by many outside the now diminished anti-nationalist coterie, who occupied the parliament for four and a half years and hexed it with the controversial 19A.
It is not necessary to read further into JU’s article to be able to infer where his own inexcusable biases lie. He is obviously in favour of 13A and 19A forced on the nation from outside, and is against the present government’s sincere effort to remove the obstacles placed on its path by the departing yahapalanaya through its ill-conceived constitutional mixed bag that is 19A, where what is bad is by choice, and what is good is by chance. This is not to argue that the new 20A is perfect in comparison. I share many objections raised in different quarters against the proposed 20A, but I believe that the moot points will be satisfactorily sorted out by the present leaders before they manage to get it through parliament.
The Opposition critics of 20A quite well know that it is, after all, only a stopgap measure to clear the way for the unhindered implementation of the government’s development plans. The government will introduce a completely new Constitution within a year or two. JU’s advice as a political scientist will come in handy then.
The proposed 20A is not an arbitrary piece of legislation that the government is introducing behind the back of the people. There is considerable opposition to some of its articles even within the government ranks. Unlike in the case of 19A, the passage of 20A will be a democratic, above-board affair. The Minister of Justice on behalf of the government issued it as a draft bill for public view and review in all three languages on September 2, 2020. The document clearly specifies what is to be amended, repealed, or replaced. The yahapalana constitutional fraud in the form of 19A is not being repeated. Over this four-week period, some thirty-nine petitions have been filed challenging 20A’s constitutionality before the Supreme Court and they were being heard for the third day (October 2) by a bench of five judges, at the time of writing. The government has already declared that it will abide by the court decision by duly adjusting its response to it. JU’s alarms and warnings are uncalled for.
By the phrase ‘past constitutional reform experiments’, JU must be referring to the making of the first and second republican Constitutions (of 1972 and 1978 respectively) and the substantial number of opportune as well as ad hoc amendments introduced by successive governments since, some of them questionable and controversial, where 19A stands in a class by itself as the best example of the worst type of constitutional reform introduced in Sri Lanka to date. What prompts him to describe them as experiments is probably the fact that he is a political scientist with his indispensable toolkit of academic analysis. My interest as a lay citizen, modestly informed of the original construction and subsequent reform of a constitution, is concerned with how good it is going to be for the largest number of the people of the country, as its supreme law, in the context of the more or less stable social and political realities that are prevailing.
As a Constitution is not holy writ, it is open to appropriate amendments from time to time, in compliance with the will of the people, as and when these realities change; a constitution specifies the legal way to reform or replace it as the case may be. The current 1978 republican constitution as amended up to 2015 (Chapter XII/Articles 82-84) specifies the procedure for amending or repealing the constitution. The people whose memory of the yahapalana misadventure is still fresh are anxiously aware of the necessity of passing the 20A.
Contrary to what JU asserts, the political leaders and the legal luminaries responsible for drafting the proposed 20A, have not forgotten the constructive lessons left by their respective predecessors in the form of Sirimavo Bandaranaike and Colvin R. de Silva (1972), and J.R. Jayewardene and J.A. Wilson (1978). Both Bandaranaike and Jayewardene cared about the country, the people, and the culture. Both displayed firm leadership in governing, and a high level of intellect in statecraft. Sirimavo Bandaranaike had her native wit, and Jayewardene possessed a good education. In April 1971, Bandaranaike nipped the JVP terrorism in the bud, not without some violence, though, that she never intended. Opposition leader Jayewardene approved of her actions, saying, ‘yes, a government must rule’. For her courage, firmness, and composure, she was described then as the only male in her cabinet. The contribution of the inspiration provided by Bandaranaike’s political leadership to the making of the first Republican Constitution, the principal architect of which was de Silva, must have been immense and indispensable. Later, hadn’t Jayewardene got Wilson to write the powerful institution of executive presidency into the second republican constitution (1978) as the main anchor to the unitary state, the sovereign Sri Lankan republic that Bandaranaike and de Silva created for the people would have disintegrated and drifted into wilderness and oblivion by now.
Back to the point.
The second alleged defect that JU asserts, without any evidence to support his opinion, is that ‘the framers of the 20A are not motivated by the broader democratic interests of all Sri Lankan people, but the ‘political self-interest’ (of someone or group that JU avoids mentioning). A third defect, JU identifies the Amendment’s supposed lack of ‘a democratic formative framework relevant to our society and its own progressive-modernist legacies of constitutionalism .. (together with the fact that).. it builds itself on one or two dreadful and destructive experiments of constitution-making in the recent past’. This is as close to clear as I can get in interpreting JU here. To illustrate the ‘one or two dreadful and destructive experiments of constitution-making in the recent past’, I think, he draws upon what he, assuming a kind of arbitrary academic license, calls the ‘relatively long history of unmaking, making, and amending constitutions’ that includes the 1972 and 1978 exercises on the one hand, and the 1978C and 18A on the other. JU’s adjectives ‘dreadful and destructive’ could be justifiably applied to the passage of 19A and other such ‘experiments’ in constitutional reform, as contained, for example, in Chapter IV of the Constitution of the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka (As amended up to 15th May 2015) (Revised Edition – 2015) issued by the Parliamentary Secretariat. Chapter IV – Language covers Articles 18-25. One is bewildered by what the crafty, ill-meaning, ‘sponsors and framers’ have from time to time done to degrade Sinhala in its official status with the uncomprehending concurrence of some self-seeking Sinhala MPs in the House. This, of course, would be an iconic piece of constitution-making for a theorist with one’s head in the clouds.
The practical reality is that the operative meaning of any Article (whether this is legally contested or not) is implicitly embodied in the English text (though, according to the present constitution Sinhala and Tamil are both official languages, while English is the link language.). So, it is vitally important to translate the draft document that is the Constitution into precise, unambiguous, formal and legally acceptable and uncontestable Sinhala and Tamil. I detected a couple of stark discrepancies between the original English draft and the Sinhala translation (not relating to the particular context – Chapter IV – mentioned above) when I made a very random comparison between the two versions while researching an article at the time, but I don’t remember whether I dwelt on the subject long enough for it to be taken notice of by the reader as something important, though beyond the central scope of that article. Apart from this, those sufficiently informed did not fail to see how some Tamil lawmakers wanted to openly hoodwink the Sinhalas with the word ‘akeeya’ stripped of its intended original meaning of unitary, but falsely insisting that the English term ‘unitary’ was not its equivalent and was not suitable as a translation, and started talking about an ‘Orumiththa Nadu’, reminiscent of Tamil Nadu. How the question which version should prevail in case of an incongruence between the Sinhala and Tamil texts should be resolved, I can’t remember having been discussed. But the last item (58) of the published draft of 20A runs: ‘In the event of any inconsistency between the Sinhala and Tamil texts of this Act, the Sinhala text shall prevail.’
Having outlined the lessons to be learnt from constitution-making, -unmaking, and -reforming exercises up to 18A, JU moves on to the many lessons that he thinks may be drawn from the ‘much maligned’ 19A. He identifies four key lessons. The first lesson he mentions is that wide public consultation is useful, and helps ‘improve the level of democratic health in the polity’. I cannot agree with him that this was true about the drafting of 19A. It was claimed that the constitutional experts including Jayampathy Wickremaratne, presumably its principal drafter, toured the country meeting with individuals and representatives of many minority civil groups during a short period of two or three months. They had to rush the job, they said, as they were in a hurry to finish it within a stipulated time frame. About two thousand people were consulted nevertheless, they claimed. It was obvious that they roamed the country making it their main aim to pay more attention to the minorities that they had decided were discriminated against by the majority Sinhalese, as they wanted the meddling foreign powers to believe in order to justify their interventionist excesses in the internal and external politics of the country. Meanwhile they paid only symbolic attention to the Sinhalese majority. Wickremaratne, the chief architect of the fraudulent document, is now rumoured/reported to have found or is seeking political asylum in Australia or somewhere (though there is absolutely no possibility of his being targeted for persecution in Sri Lanka). He has reportedly admitted that 19A is problematic.
The second lesson that JU asserts he can learn from the making of 19A is that it is ‘better to build consensus across all political parties in Parliament for a major amendment or a new Constitution’. If he means that 19A set a negative example of that principle, then he has a case. But in actuality, 19A destroyed the burgeoning interparty consensus in Parliament and the growing intercommunal goodwill in the broader society that the MR government achieved in the wake of victory over terrorism. It was because of this that ‘for partisan political reasons, some might later withdraw from the consensus’ as JU laments.
I agree with JU on the third lesson he derives from his seemingly iconic amendment, which is that ‘If the consultation and consensus-building in constitution-making is not politically managed with clarity of purpose, the overall goals of the constitutional compromise may run the risk of producing a constitutional scheme with potentially harmful internal anomalies and contradictions’. Yes, in other words, 19A is a very good illustration of a very bad constitutional amendment.
The fourth lesson that 19A offers, according to JU, is that ‘a democratic constitution-making exercise today needs, more than ever, an unwavering political leadership to champion it through to the end by innovative and imaginative democratic means’. In my opinion, this is what the pre-2015 government achieved. 19A, by dismantling it, demonstrated how ill the nation fared in the absence of such unwavering, innovative, and democratic leadership. Then, JU starts chewing his own tail, by suggesting a ‘paradoxical’ reason: ‘Alternatives to democracy are also competing with democracy, with enormous material resources, to gain popular support and loyalty through democratic means. In this age of right-wing populism, media-manufactured popular consent and manipulation of public perceptions through information pollution, post-democratic alternatives tend to gain easy currency and public legitimacy’. Frankly, I can’t make head or tail of this, but it makes me wonder whether JU is trying to make light of the very real persecution of the majority community that is hardly recognized by most mainstream politicians, who feel obliged to find refuge behind political correctness.
Three matters concerning universities. The eminent botanist Dr. Upatissa Pethiyagoda asked (17/12) why there were Bachelor of Arts degrees and no Spinsters …. degrees. When universities were first founded in medieval times, the intelligentsia was almost entirely churchmen: priests, friars and monks. There were no women in the clergy. Churchmen held power in studium generale which about the 15th century came to be called universities.
Universities governed themselves, a common feature of many organisations in medieval Europe, where authority was fragmented. (The seeds of present claims for autonomy in universities, bolstered by new and other powerful factors, lay there.) Although graduates from the Arts Faculty comprised the overwhelming majority in universities, and the arts faculty was fons et origo ceteris (source and origin of all others), graduates of the Faculty of Theology controlled universities. For centuries to come this practice continued. The church and, more recently, laymen who governed universities, did not permit the admission of women to universities. In Dr. Pethiyagoda’s university in the UK, women were formally admitted to degrees only in 1948! In Oxford, women had been admitted in 1920-21. That explains why there are no “Spinster graduates”, even though, in some universities, women comprise the majority that graduates. However, change has been rapid since then. The present vice-chancellor of Cambridge University is a woman. The Master of Trinity Hall, one of the smaller but older colleges in that university, is a woman who was an academic in the US, previously.
Then it was asked whether LSE could offer a degree (in The Island, on the same day). LSE cannot, because it is not a university but only a School at the University of London, like the Imperial College of Science and Technology, King’s College or SOAS. Similarly, one cannot get a degree from the Harvard Business School. The model of the University of London was copied in India, when the British established universities there in 1857, the year of the mutiny. (Ramachandran Guha once remarked that two mutinies began in 1857; the other being the establishment of universities whose alumni were a force in pushing the British out of India.) As a result, Delhi University or Calcutta University has large numbers of colleges, where standards of teaching vary widely. The University of Bangalore is reputed to have hundreds of affiliated colleges.
Professor Jan-Melissa Schramm became Vice- Master of trinity hall on 1 april 2023 after filling the role of acting Vice-Master during Lent term 2023. She is Professor of Literature and Law in the english Faculty, Director of Studies in english at trinity hall, and was Deputy Director at CRaSSh between 2017 and 2020. (From Trinity Hall official website)
P. A. Samaraweera, philosophiae doctor, (20/12/24) insists on calling a university degree a title: ‘…(PD) is incorrect in his analysis of a Ph.D. as a title’. Well, of course, Alice (in Wonderland) retorted, ‘I mean what I say’ and Dr. Samaraweeera may assert that same privilege. But korala, muhandiram, maha mudali, professor, archdeacon and judge are titles, not university degrees. B.A., D.Phil., and D.Litt. are degrees and not titles. His appellation ‘Dr.’ is not a title, whereas he may hold the title ’professor’. I went back to history to explain what it is, not what the future should be. He might find it difficult to explain why he, a chemist (say) holds a degree ‘doctor of philosophy’, having never, even in school, studied philosophy. The explanation is in the history of universities. Well into the 21st century, President Emmanuel Macron, a few months ago, opened the University of Paris-Saclay and it will have deans, provosts, and other office holders whose titles derive from the University of Paris which started about 1210 CE. Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln, Chancellor of Oxford, in the 14th century, had he miraculously been transported to the occasion, may have found the entire setup familiar as he was ‘a French poet, an agriculturist, a lawyer, a physician, and a preacher; ….’ ( Rashdall, Vol.III p.241). He may even have understood the proceedings. Modern universities follow procedures adopted in old Europe: wear your cappa (degree gown and cap) and compare those vestments with what a Catholic priest, a bishop or the pope wears. Need I say more?
Philosophiae Doctor
“The goal of education is not to increase the amount of knowledge but to create the possibilities for a child to invent and discover”
– Jean Piaget
“[They] are confined for four or five years in small cages, being kept in the dark and not allowed to set foot on the ground”. One might wonder whether the foregoing sentence is one which is meant to serve as a metaphorical description of the joyless life of most of our primary-level students, who are regimented for two to three years to face the Year 5 Scholarship exam. Well, no.
It doesn’t have the remotest connection to modern-day exams or an education system unwittingly designed to drain childhood of its inherent pleasures. It refers to a custom, a ‘persecution’ ingrained in primeval cultures, the remnants of which may still be found in many societies including ours. The quote is from a well-known book on anthropology, “The Golden Bough: A study in magic and religion” written by Sir James Frazer. The sentence describes a widespread taboo in primitive societies, which resulted in the “seclusion of girls at puberty”. However, it is a pity that today, one is likely to see in it, at least a faint reference to the otherwise happiest period of our youngest citizens, who are pressured to prepare for an exam, which is superimposed, for reasons unrelated to the goals of education, per se. Rather, it is designed to make tens of thousands of underprivileged children work harder than they reasonably can, because the successive governments have not been able to provide the required infrastructure facilities to their schools to enable them to continue studies till they enter the tertiary level. In other words, the well-known exam is an instance of making our children sacrifice their childhood till the rulers, if they ever will, set right the larger economic wrongs.
Whereas, in ancient times, young girls were made to carry the burden of superstition and patriarchy, today young children of all sexes are forced to pay the price for political and economic bungling. Ultimately, a problem resulting from lack of opportunities for many, is upgraded and embellished as ‘providing opportunities’ for the few ‘smart’. And, its grand title is Year 5 Scholarship Exam. What we conveniently forget is that this ‘exam’ is a wrong medicine produced to compensate for political quackery, which justifies the continuation of substandard education for the ‘condemned’ majority. It seems that the onward march of human progress, while doing away with cultural wrongs, is shy of getting rid of economic wrongs. A local saying seems apt here – one may say that the Year 5 scholarship exam has been serving as a metaphor for an annually produced loincloth expected to cure politically induced child-diarrhea.
The reported leaking of three questions from the Grade 5 scholarship exam held this year and the reports of such incidents in the past show its undesirable influence on the children, parents and other vested interests. At least, it has raised an unhealthy spirit of competition considerably removing the sense of joy which should be an essential part of these children’s learning experience. This is particularly relevant because the exam has drawn both students and their parents into a prolonged spell of obsession, which has severely undermined the importance of leisure and fun that should be part and parcel of a wholesome childhood. The prolonged fixation on the exam results tied to their ‘future success’ robs these fledgling scholars of the joys of ‘free learning’, which should otherwise give them that vital sense of adventure and excitement in gaining new knowledge. Bertrand Russell’s quote, “There is much pleasure to be gained from useless knowledge”, which refers to the unplanned learning pursuits that may enhance the quality of life of adults, may not be totally irrelevant in any discussion on child education.
As history and anthropology bear evidence, children have always been defenceless against many of those well-meaning programmes imposed on them by adults. It is a pity that today the parental ambitions triggered by social forces, have invaded and highjacked the childhood of our clueless kids. Particularly vulnerable are those underprivileged children who form the majority. Whereas the children of privileged families enjoy the freedom of engaging in many leisure pursuits while receiving their primary level education without undue stress, a large number of children belonging to the lower strata of society are grievously saddled with the scholarship exam to the exclusion of all fun and recreation.
As Ms. Ruth Surenthiraraj highlights in her article titled, “A case for the non-essential” (Kuppi Talk) published in The Island of December 10, “…entertainment, leisure, or the space to create is often perceived as being directly and positively correlated to being able to afford either the time or the resources to enjoy it”. This is a valid critique of a smug social attitude, which tends to give credence to the warped idea that the underprivileged in society may ‘prudently’ forget about entertainment. Reducing childhood to a strenuous struggle for future success is sad. And, any programme relating to education or otherwise, which, directly or indirectly, helps consolidate the idea that deprived children may ‘wisely’ shun any entertainment ‘for their own good’ can be nothing short of catastrophic.
Susantha Hewa
Rekindling Faith, Peace, and Love Below…!
(Practical Tips for Christmas Bliss)
by Rev. Fr. (Dr.) Eymard Fernando
Bishop’s House, Kurunegala.
In an increasingly and incredibly materialised and commercialised world today, the core meaning of Christmas often seems distorted, being overshadowed by consumerism, bustling sales, and extravagant festivities. Yet, at its heart, Christmas is a season meant for reflection, change, love, and unity – a time when people gather to celebrate gratitude and generosity centred around the Divine Baby. As we explore the roots of Christmas and what it can mean for us in today’s world, we uncover themes of faith, hope, peace, and kindness that transcend religious boundaries, reminding us of the true purpose and value of God becoming man.
Therefore, let us delve a little into the origins and deeper significance of Christmas, exploring ways to return to these roots through themes of generosity, togetherness, and humility. By rediscovering these essential values, we can certainly celebrate Christmas as a season that brings light and life to our world.
A Season of Faith and Reflection
Christmas has its origins in the Birth of Jesus Christ, a moment celebrated by Christians as the arrival of hope and salvation. However, even beyond its religious significance, Christmas season has become a time when many reflect on themes of love, hope, and renewal. The story of the Nativity conveys universal values: humility, peace, and the power of hope.
The Birth of Jesus in a humble manger represents a profound lesson about simplicity and compassion. As theologian Henri Nouwen noted, “Jesus was born in the least expected place to the least expected people in the least expected way.” This simplicity, intertwined with humility, challenges the commercialised image of Christmas today. Instead of focusing on luxury and excess, the roots of Christmas invite us to value the simple, meaningful aspects of life: faith, family, and fraternity.
In today’s world, we can return to these roots by setting aside time for personal reflection during Christmas. Practising gratitude, being mindful of those less fortunate, and reaching out to loved ones are all different ways we can honour the spiritual foundation of Christmas. Thus, we all can benefit from a moment of stillness and introspection during this busy time of the year.
The Spirit of Generosity and Compassion
Christmas has always been a season of sharing, inspired by the gifts of the Magi to the Christ- Child and later, Saint Nicholas’ acts of charity as santa claus. However, the tradition of sharing has gradually shifted from simple acts of kindness to an intense focus on material gifts. According to American sociologist Juliet Schor, “We give to show love, but in a culture that equates love with spending, our giving has been commercialized.”
However, in recent years, a shift towards alternative, meaningful sharing has gained momentum in the form of a worthy ‘retromarch’. Many individuals and families now choose to give to charity in a loved one’s name or to offer experiences rather than material goods. This form of sharing very much aligns with the true spirit of Christmas, embodying generosity without extravagance.
Likewise, local initiatives, such as community food drives and clothing and toy collections, have become popular ways to give back. Participating in these efforts allows people to connect with others in their communities, creating a shared sense of purpose and compassion. As Mother Teresa famously said, “It’s not how much we give, but how much love we put into giving.” By focusing mainly on the intention behind our gifts, we can bring the spirit of Christmas alive in our own hearts and communities. However, the magic of Christmas is not very much in presents and parties, but in His Presence!
Family and Togetherness: A Time for Connection
The Christmas season is often one of the few times in the year when families come together, setting aside time to reconnect, reflect, and celebrate. This emphasis on togetherness is deeply rooted in the season’s traditions, dating back to ancient winter solstice festivals where communities gathered to share warmth and light during the darkest days of the year.
In modern times, when families may be dispersed across cities or even continents, Christmas remains a crucial opportunity to reconnect. This communal emphasis shows how Christmas, regardless of religious affiliations, has become a unifying tradition centred on family.
Simple traditions – like sharing a meal, decorating a Christmas tree, or singing carols together – allow families to pause, connect, and create memories. These rituals not only strengthen family bonds but also convey the essence of Christmas for younger generations. As American author Richard Paul Evans, best known for his inspirational and heartfelt novels says, “The smells, tastes, and sounds of Christmas are the roots that nurture a family tree.” By focusing on togetherness, Christmas serves as a reminder of the love and connection that sustain us all throughout the New Year.
Peace on Earth: Seeking Unity in This Divided World
One of the most significant messages of Christmas is the call for ‘Peace on Earth’. Yet, today’s world is marked by political, social, cultural, economic and various other divisions, making the pursuit of peace and unity more relevant than ever before. From the hymn ‘Silent Night’ to the angels’ proclamation of peace, Christmas has long symbolized hope in times of conflict.
A poignant historical example of Christmas promoting peace is the Christmas Truce of 1914, during World War I. British and German soldiers, entrenched on the Western Front, laid down their arms on Christmas Eve to exchange greetings, sing carols, and share small gifts. This unexpected truce, though brief, reminded soldiers of their shared humanity amidst the horrors of war. It symbolised the power of Christmas to transcend differences and bring people together, even during a time of darkness and death.
Today, peace-oriented traditions continue to play an important role during Christmas season. Interfaith gatherings, community meals, and charitable events all serve as spaces for people from different backgrounds to connect and understand one another. In a world often divided by ideological and political differences, Christmas can become a season with a reason for open dialogue, compassion, and understanding. Embracing Christmas’ call for peace and unity allows us to honour its roots in ways that resonate with our global context.
Practising Simplicity and Mindfulness
While Christmas has grown as a metaphor for lavish celebrations and enchanting tamashas, the season’s roots actually encourage simplicity and mindfulness. The traditional story of Jesus’ Birth in a manger speaks to a humble beginning, one that invites us to cherish what truly matters in life. Embracing that simplicity allows us shift our focus from material abundance to the richness of shared experiences.
In recent years, minimalism and mindfulness have gained popularity as antidotes to the consumer-driven spendthrift lifestyle with a ‘shop till you drop’ psychosis. Many people now opt for simpler, handmade gifts or choose to forgo elaborate decorations in favour of natural elements. These preferred choices reflect a desire to connect more authentically with the true meaning of Christmas. Instead of flashy lights or mountains of gifts, families can create meaningful memories through acts of kindness or spending quality time together strengthening family ties. One modern example for this is the ‘Reverse Advent Calendar’ tradition. Instead of receiving a treat each day, participants place an item – such as dry rations or clothing – in a box to donate to those in need. This practice helps to instil gratitude and generosity, shifting the focus from consumption to community service. By embracing a simpler and more mindful and meaningful approach, we honour the humble roots of Christmas and foster a deeper sense of appreciation for life’s countless blessings.
A Journey of Rediscovering…
Returning to the roots of Christmas is a journey of rediscovering faith, kindness, and togetherness in a world that often moves at a very rapid pace. The true spirit of Christmas calls us to reflect on values that transcend time and culture: humility, compassion, peace, unity, and love. In embracing these themes, we transform Christmas from a season of materialism into one pregnant with meaning.
As we celebrate Christmas this year, let us remember that this event is not about what we have, but about who we are with and how we make others feel. It is a season of opening our hearts and minds to others, of putting love into action, and of finding moments of peace and tranquility in the midst of cacophony, disorder and chaos. By going back to the roots of Christmas, let us therefore invite joy, hope, and kindness into our lives, allowing Christmas grow and glow with renewed purpose and profound meaning resulting in a new birth in our own lives!
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