Christmas Musings

Christmas has been complex this year; the customary adaptations were harder to make without question. In a congregation in which children are absent, the issue of Santa vs. Jesus might not seem to be important, but oddly, it is. For many of my aging folks, the experience of feeling loved because Santa brought them gifts as a child is a powerful memory. Yet, the older they become, the more Christmases they celebrate, the harder it is for them to justify the myth of Santa. Their lived experience of joy as a child waking up on Christmas morning to the assurance that they were good enough- the proof was under the tree and in their stocking- is at odds with their adult recognition that this is not the message that God sends us at Christmas. It may be the beginning of a more acute awareness of the gap between gospel and culture as we rely on Paul's words, " when I was a child, I thought like a child...." [1Cor 13:11] and they question the advisability of perpetuating the myth of Santa. Is it merely a harmless children's myth? What is it really? What does it do, why do we have it, and, perhaps most important of all, why do we keep it? I've wanted to blog about Santa as Satan's servant, but thought it might be more than we were collectively able to handle at the same time that we were caught up in the experiences of Christmas. This is not because I hate Santa or don't like red and green or any of the usual accusations that get leveled against those who speak out against this particular myth; it's because if we look at the Santa story through eyes open to mimesis and peace theology, it's a very different story. Try it, and see what you come up with; if you can find  gospel meaning in "You better be good; you better not cry; you better not pout, I'm telling you why" I'll be surprised. Follow that up with a look at the symbols of the Santa story (do not the "bad" children get a lump of coal; aka, a stone?) and I'm pretty sure you'll find yourself in a quandary.  Challenging Santa as a cultural means of control over both children [you better be good] and adults [who you are in life depends upon how well you shop and support the economy] is not a well tolerated pastime. I never would have guessed that it would be Christmas and Santa Claus that would engage my church in a desire to understand the gospel from the perspective of peace theology, but there you have it. This issue seems to be at just the proper distance for us; it is both personally real in people's lived experience, and it is at odds with the gospel truth they now perceive and seek.  They also have the luxury of distance from believing children; none of my folks will feel obliged to expose Santa to children who will then be deprived of the joy they themselves remember.  In some bizarre way, Santa may actually lead a few of us closer to the real Jesus, not because Santa embodies the spirit of Christmas, but because he does not.

The beauty we are all seeking at Christmas has been visible in the wrinkled face of one very old person in our church. Short-spoken, crotchety, with a dry sense of humor and a lot of regrets over her past life, Judith sat in a pew on Christmas eve all by herself. Alone, she has no family nor friends to sit with; the person who offered her a ride delivered her and then sat separately with their own friends. As a result, there was no one near her to inquire when she began to weep. And weep she did. Softly, silently, she wept throughout much of the service.  As people wished each other a Merry Christmas as they left the church, many were stunned to see her face, wet with tears despite her repeated efforts to dry them. "I just can't make them stop!" she said. Puzzled by her tears in the face of their happiness, someone asked her why she was crying. "I'm not upset" she said. "I'm just so amazed, so grateful to be here. It's so beautiful!" Relieved, her inquisitor responded, "Yes, it was a lovely service, wasn't it?" "It was", said Judith, "but that's not what I meant. I meant that the whole thing, the real story, that God would do this for me, THAT is beautiful!" Words failed, more tears flowed, and Love was real. It felt like the biblical Anna of Luke 2:36 was standing in our midst.

So what kind of difference does our Christmas observance make in the world? Clouded by Santa, apprehended in it's truth by an old woman, how does that change the world? As I sat at my own dinner table on Christmas night, the conversation gave me a clue that something great might really be afoot; not only the eternal greatness of God's love for us made manifest in Jesus, but a human response that signaled we were receiving the message, albeit reluctantly.  In my exhaustion, I almost missed it. It wasn't until the third or fourth apology was offered to me that I began to sit up and take notice. Tired after a looong day and a big meal, I had drifted out of the conversational sphere, content to let my family and guests chat amongst themselves. I kept an ear open for any note of distress, but frankly, they were carrying on with each other in good spirits and with great gusto. It was me they were having difficulty with, not because of what I said or did, but because of what my presence represented. When I found myself graciously accepting yet another apology, I began to pay attention to the conversation. The Christmas dinner table is not the place where polite people choose to expose one another's shortcomings, and I count myself among them. Another time, another place, and perhaps I'll have a better way to lovingly help people see themselves as falling short of their own professed standards. Last night, I confess I did not. I merely smiled, accepted the apology, and affirmed their concern that I did hold different values than they were expressing because I was following Jesus.  I thought about reminding them that their commitment was no different than mine, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor. They have recognized the dissonance themselves; I chose not to rub their noses in it. Instead, I agreed, I affirmed, I refrained from arguing for Jesus and let him work on them himself. It may be a minor Christmas miracle of small scale at one family dining table, but it's also a genuine miracle.  Lots of things are shared at the family table; recognition that the gospel of Jesus calls for more love than culture requires is not a bad thing, and I'm ok with being the billboard reminder of that truth. It feels like God's gift to me this year.

nancy hitt.

Comments

[Molly Wms]

Nancy, from the same song you cited in the first paragraph, this little bit of further confusion of the stories: "Santa knows that we're all God's children, / That makes everything right." !

[Scott Hutchinson]

To Nancy, receiver and sharer of gifts,

Last week you completed your post by offering a blessing to all of us. This week we are delighted to hear that you have also received a blessing. Your beautiful stories and penetrating musings reveal ever more of God's realm among us!

[nancy]

Molly, could you say more about the confusion you see in the songline you quoted? I'm trying to remember the song itself so that I can fill in the context of those lyrics, and at the moment I can't! My imagination is going in several directions with it, so I'd appreciate any grounding you can give! Thanks.