The product of parochial schools and a well-thumbed catechism, I was sure that was the name of the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas was Advent. Children were extra careful to be good so that Santa would bring them a gift or two. There were Christmas pageants at school, store windows decorated to charm the passers-by, carols over loud speakers and Santas on every street corner. The words “Merry Christmas” were on everyone’s lips.

Things change, and in my now wider world, in deference to fellow citizens who don’t celebrate Christmas, the phrase for the season is simply the holidays. I can see the logic here. Christians celebrate Christmas, Jews, Hanukkah and those of African heritage would, of late, celebrate Kwanza. It isn’t Christmas, it’s the “holidays.” Not as specific for me, but OK.

I’ve learned that the “holidays” is now passé. It’s now “gift giving season.” The mad dash to exchange gifts for the purpose of exchanging gifts has become so entrenched that Wall Street trembles at the results of retail sales during the days after Thanksgiving. Will Santa be replaced by Elon Musk? Will children accuse their parents of economic treason if they don’t receive their portion of the season’s booty?

Is this yet another sign of time passing and my mind holding fast to old fashioned concepts? Maybe.

There is a card, decorated with tiny finger prints, misplaced stickers and a carefully printed greeting on my refrigerator door.  It is one of my treasures, a gift from my child at Christmas and more precious than any trinket a store might sell. Here is the answer to my quandary. The name of the season has been modified, but most certainly not the spirit.

I see that universal spirit of selfless giving, of love, every day.

I can complain about the commercialism of the season while understanding that the very meaning that I treasure is not exclusive to the end of the year. Libraries offer tutoring space for volunteers to assist those who need help. Scholarships to local summer camps open doors that would otherwise be closed to poor children. Vans patrol city streets to minister to the needs of the homeless. Hospitals receive beautifully-crafted lap robes, afghans, hats and booties for patients, often made by residents of nursing homes, while musicians of every genre share their talents with the residents of nursing homes. The cold and blustery weather doesn’t deter the volunteers who man the Red Kettles, ringing their bells to remind us of who we can be. And my little grandson who gave his piggy bank to his mother, telling her to use it to help all the doggies and kitties who are cold and hungry. Oh, my heart.

But it is in the now, in what Christians call Advent, in every community that the needs of others rise to acute awareness as does the self-knowledge that, no matter your own circumstances, there is always something that you can do to ameliorate the trials of fellow citizens and those who aspire to be citizens. Giving trees in Christian faith communities, toy collections by the military, clothing and toiletries gathered by media outlets … the list goes on. And at a Syracuse soup kitchen, the congregants of Temple Society of Concord serve the Christmas meal. They know and live the true meaning as well as any.

As Tiny Tim would say, “God bless us, every one.”