by Chaplain Helen Cifuentes
The Colour of Christmas
’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house – nothing was stirring… except me on the couch, catching a moment of peace between the pre- and post-Christmas mayhem!
In the dark of the lounge room, I can just make out the shape of the tree, decorated with such excitement and care on the first day of December in anticipation of all that Christmas Day might bring.
In the light of day, the tree is a bright, healthy plastic green, the baubles and tinsel every colour of the rainbow. But here and now, in the shadows of my lounge room, it has no colour apart from a faint glint of silver tinsel catching the glow of my screen. It stands there, monochrome and still, with no hint of its purpose or place in the scheme of things.
This colourless tree leads me to reflect on how the human eye sees light. Science tells us that without light there is no colour. Not that we can’t see colour — it simply doesn’t exist until light touches it. Perhaps that’s true of life as well. When the light fades — when hope, love, or meaning grow dim — the world can seem drained of colour.
At its heart, Christmas is the story of light entering the darkness. Emmanuel means God with us — not far away or only for the holy, but here, among us, in the mess and wonder of ordinary life. It’s the quiet assurance that we are not alone, that divine light still finds its way into human hearts and homes. Perhaps the invitation of Christmas is simple: to notice that light, to share it, and to let its warmth bring colour to the world once more.