Did You Hear What I Heard? It's Streaming in 2025.

One way to keep Christmas joy alive throughout the new year is to hold tight to, and continue reflecting upon, bits of the yuletide vocabulary to which our culture grants only a short shelf life.

While some spiritual advisors urge us only to be mindful of the present moment, we know experiences become more momentous because of memories we’ve made. Thoughts about the past, about almost anything, rely on words. The start of 2025 is an opportunity to choose some terms to treasure even as others fade away.

Secular commentators have already culled the heard.

Lake Superior State University issued its annual list of verbal fads for which 2024 should be the expiration date—“cringe” and “sorry, not sorry,” for example.

Washington Post book reviewers said one of their favorite sentences from last year’s literature is, “There’s depth in not decisively agreeing.” That’s deep, I guess.

Linguist John McWhorter and journalist Bari Weiss, in a podcast conversation, speculated that more words like “delulu” will show up in 2025. Maybe it means “delightful,” but the Urban Dictionary’s usage guide references this new maxim: “Delusion is not the solution”—that is, “Delulu is not the solulu.”

Our language should be able to do better than that!

Especially at Christmas, we are immersed in a spirit that goes beyond words but gives them rhyme and reason. Centuries of faith have inspired eloquent liturgies and lexicon to be savored. They will reappear next December, but their power to unite and guide us is worthy of recycling year-round, amid inevitable deluges of delulu.

Sing to the Lord an Old Song

Listen up when enduring words and ideas slip into the arena of secular discourse, regardless of calendar dates, whether in moments of holiness or scenes from popular entertainment. Remember their splendid presence in carols and other expressions of “the reason for the season.”

Then, apply your own reason to these thoughts grounded in Bethlehem, ensuring they’re relevant wherever life takes you. Such inspirations, harkening to the Word made flesh, can elevate our wisdom in 2025 to see that “God is with us.”

Enjoy the profound lyrics which constitute the Christmas soundtrack.

Recall the amalgam of two precious traits—humility and dignity—miraculously shared by God and humanity: Mild He lays His glory by, / Born that man no more may die, / Born to raise the sons of earth, / Born to give them second birth. (“Hark the Herald Angels Sing”)

Catch the intimations of spiritual warfare against evil into which Christ entered, literally fleshing out our potential goodness: No more let sin and sorrows grow, / Nor thorns infest the ground; / He comes to make His blessings flow / Far as the curse is found. (“Joy to the World”)

Honor the simple shepherds whose grassroots wisdom made them responsive to mystery, to all they didn’t know, as well as the Magi stargazers, whose wisdom told them they didn’t know everything: If I were a wise man, I would do my part, / Yet what I can, I give him,/ I give Him my heart. (“In the Bleak Midwinter”)

Embrace the love song to a child sung by seekers of a similarly pure soul: Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care, / And take us to heaven to live with Thee there. (“Away in a Manger”)

These messages can help us “repeat the sounding joy” in a world that needs it.

As novelist Gregg Hurwitz said recently in a Daily Wire Plus symposium on the Gospels, “We’re seeing the world burn down, in some ways, to fundamentals”—with questions about man vs. machine and male vs. female. He told Jordan Peterson and other panelists, ”When we have that level of definitional collapse, we need to go back to forms of thinking … that are different.”

Here are several Christmas-adjacent words that, when bandied about in the public square, will deserve appreciative voices which can unlock their deeper meanings:

Epiphany

We should welcome “epiphanies,” or revelations of truth, at all times even though the unexpected requires interpretation. Epiphanies, like the Catholic feast marked liturgically on January 5 this year, are moments of communication, often blessing us with knowledge. This recalls Pope Francis’ 2019 message for the Vatican’s World Communications Day: “Love always communicates.”

The Oxford English Dictionary provided a cautionary note in 2016 when it declared that “post-truth” was its “word of the year.” Communication had already gotten dicey.

We saw in 2024 how polarization, pitting “my truth” against “your truth,” had infected our national politics. Public figures and private citizens were castigated for everything from irresponsible hyperbole and objectionable rhetoric to strategic fabulism and lies of omission.

Post-truth practitioners in politics and the media have dumbed-down our communications by replacing love with hatred, mockery, and fear. The public craves trust regarding what is known and what is unknown. A democracy’s ability to learn and discern has come under attack.

Too many elites, rejecting God and religion as the best sources of truth, pursue influence through emotional manipulation and utopian ideals. They draw upon their “cults of cognition,” to use a term from theologian Dietrich von Hildebrand (1889-1977). All-purpose paradigms of “oppressed vs. oppressor” and “victimized vs. victim” continue to drive wedges among us.

Truth inevitably emerges in public dialogues and human experiences. Reality wins. “Eureka moments” allow people to change their minds, to correct their courses, to experience wonder. We can do our part, using our voices and actions to champion the epiphanies that occasionally cut through the fog of spiritual warfare.

Sadly, some post-truth stalwarts will choose only to generate more confusion and turn up the gaslight of the status quo.

Not unlike Herod conducting the massacre of the “Holy Innocents” in order to kill the foretold King of the Jews (Matthew 2:13-18), those who keep their grip on the power of darkness try to deprive us of the happy surprises in a free marketplace of ideas.

In 2024, researchers repeated warnings of society’s tendencies toward isolation, depression, addiction, doubling down on misinformation, and retreating into artificial realities. Many are searching for truth but don’t know where to look. The New York Times reported in December that “there is now a growing cottage industry of psychedelic [magic-mushroom] retreats for business leaders.”

Let’s participate more avidly in conversations that spark imagination, reflection, and accountability when natural and supernatural epiphanies occur.

Gifts

The surest and most healing revelations come from relationships with Christ, supported by honest, dynamic, lasting connections to people who cluster around reality.

Over the past year, God seems to have gifted Americans—dutiful news-consumers and common-sense types—with remarkable moments of discovery exposing inconvenient truths about people, plans, institutions, and ideologies. We must retain these memories as lessons to mull over, without malice but with firm plans to repair the brokenness.

A richer knowledge of our religious traditions will help us to share our interpretations and present them as uplifting alternatives to confirmation bias.

The Christmas shepherds eagerly transmitted to others what an angel had told them, and they returned to the Holy Family to offer all they had to give—thanks and praise. The “wise men” offered three items. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh were costly but even more important for their present and future significance.

Some of our best gift exchanges in the new year will entail what’s free-of-charge but especially valuable—information, ideas, and identities which reflect our authenticity and create possibilities. This is communication as a gift, assuring each other that we are in the right place with fellow pilgrims.

Popular culture in 1965 gave us a charming example of gift-giving, with epiphany as a bonus. In A Charlie Brown Christmas, the title character speaks for so many of today’s isolated souls when he shouts with frustration, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?”

Charlie Brown’s friend Linus responds to him by reciting the words of Scripture (video from Luke 2:8-14). He repeats the angels’ announcement of Christ the Lord bringing hope and peace to mankind. “That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

Closing scenes of joy and friendship arise after Charlie’s cry for wisdom, his “good grief!” moment amid the chaos of a holiday play rehearsal. Linus gave his friend a simple gift of clarity that placed everything in order.

This must-see TV holds a lesson for today: Adults need constant practice in the art of sharing presents (and presence), both as generous givers and grateful receivers. Let’s use our gifts to honor the giftedness of others, not treating them as statistics or labeled groups, but offering them our respect and recommendations, questions and answers.

Light

Christmas, with its message about a “star of wonder” at the darkest time of year, shone extra brightly on Dec. 25, 2024, because Hanukkah, the “festival of lights,” also began that day.

An unlikely popular-culture “parable” speaks the language of “light” in a relevant way for 2025. It encourages us to “look up” from the glare of the screens we’re holding and from the lower passions we carelessly enable.

The risk that our smartphones and social media convey false enlightenment was captured ingeniously by “The Game,” an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation broadcast in 1991.

In that year, video games were all the rage, but smartphones were still a twinkle in their inventors’ eyes, and media like Facebook were more than a decade away.

Still, the Star Trek scriptwriters told the tale of a mysterious, unnamed game the Enterprise crew had brought aboard from an alien planet. A portable optical device, worn with a headband, connected to a person’s mind by piercing the eye with a laser-like beam.

This created augmented reality in their field of vision, akin to today’s high-tech eyeglasses. The solo players used their will to manipulate images in ways that triggered visceral sensations of pleasure. As players kept “scoring,” the game’s images led to stronger feelings and blissful sighs.

Nearly all Enterprise crew members retreated into their own worlds of play and became addicted to what we now might call dopamine hits. They mindlessly cooperated with an alien plot to take over Star Fleet. One disciplined officer saw what was happening and resisted.

“Whatever this thing does, it must feel pretty good,” the officer opined. His analysis revealed that the device bonded to nerve receptors, degraded higher reasoning, and “initiated a serotonin cascade in the frontal lobe.” In layman’s terms, this was prurient “brain rot.”

Fortunately, the android Data, immune from the game’s effects, prepared a palm beacon. Pointing the beacon’s bright light at each crew member canceled the device’s connection, and the Enterprise was saved.

We can draw approximate parallels between this prescient script and the toll which social media and screen addictions take on some digital denizens today.

The parable’s lesson is clear. It is now a wise, compassionate act to raise concerns about evolving high-tech substitutes for rational thought, to decry “brain rot” where dopamine and self-centeredness distort reality. Our continuing mission is to point people toward each other, toward the big picture—and the “light of the world.”

Peace

One more bit of Christmas vocabulary is an important takeaway to address the plague of violence which society has crafted for itself. The angels promised that the incarnation of the Prince of Peace would bring hope to those of good will.

We will be reminded of this in the days ahead when America holds a funeral service for former President Jimmy Carter, who died at the age of 100. This fervent evangelical Christian took seriously the Lord’s pathway of love and merciful justice not only during his tumultuous one-term presidency, but later as the globe-trotting founder of the Carter Center and a long-time fighter for public health and beneficent democracy.

Most importantly, he said he wanted to be known for championing human dignity and “waging peace.” His vision incorporated many challenging efforts which the world must still undertake, and he embraced America as a place where high aspirations live on.

“America did not invent human rights,” he once said. “In a very real sense, human rights invented America.” (See the Phronesis in Pieces story about President Carter.)

Those who pursue wisdom should help secular culture to gain insights about people like Carter as model peacemakers, whom the Bible describes as happy and blessed. We’re called to take action for the sake of peace, becoming beacons of the humble child found away in a manger, born for sacrifice and Resurrection.

The Word was made flesh, and so the words of Christmas are inherently meaningful. Let’s allow the message to resound throughout 2025. It has a power which must not be buried in gift-wrapped boxes. As the new year begins, we know our share of suffering and sadness awaits us, but the story has a happy ending.

The work of wisdom involves telling whole stories from beginning to end. We all need to imbibe important lessons again and again, but many don’t know all the words, or the words they do know are yesterday’s news, or fake news, or brain fog.

Ongoing vocabulary rehearsals will benefit this misled culture. Perhaps we’ll know it’s time to lift our voices when we hear somebody sighing, “We need a little Christmas, right this very minute.”

Image from AI design function of Microsoft Bing Co-Pilot

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In this edition, you’ll find additional references to quotations, statistics, and more in the navbar section called Bookshelf. Also, in the About section, you’ll see new links to an interview on national Catholic radio and to a book review published in The Evanagelist, the newspaper of the Diocese of Albany.