Christmas: what's it to you?
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| Shekinah Winter, December 2008 |
“Some few large men sat in the front
parlors, without their collars, Uncles almost certainly, trying their
new cigars, holding them out judiciously at arms’ length, returning
them to their mouths, coughing, then holding them out again as though
waiting for the explosion; and some few small aunts, not wanted in
the kitchen, nor anywhere else for that matter, sat on the very edge
of their chairs, poised and brittle, afraid to break, like faded cups
and saucers.”
A Child’s Christmas in Wales
by Dylan Thomas has become classic Christmas-time reading. Rich in
imagery and detail, it opens for us a tableau of this ancient
Christian celebration as experienced by children in Wales, ca. 1950s.
Go
back another 110 years to Charles Dickens’ A Christmas
Carol, ca. 1843, a story called
by some “a
Victorian morality tale.” Scrooge, Marley, Bob Cratchitt, Tiny
Tim and the ghosts of Christmases past, present and future still
haunt our yuletide reveries.
At
this time of year, the “meaning of Christmas” emerges as a pet
topic for some. Their theme hardly needs reiterating: Santa,
commercialism, the entertainment industry have usurped the place
Christ used to hold; let’s put Christ back in Christmas. And there
are, of course, posted
articles detailing someone’s take on the origins of Christmas
as, for instance, the cultural appropriation by Christians of pagan
winter solstice celebrations. Still others are eager to define
Christmas as a time of love and sharing and getting back to family
and community good will and togetherness.
But
Christmas is and always has been a human creation.
Not celebrated to any extent until about the 9th
Century, it certainly doesn’t have its origin in the New Testament or
in the early church.
It follows that the meaning
of it is also man-made; that it is whatever we determine it to be. In
my church, it means the acknowledgment again of incarnation, a sort
of re-establishing of mindfulness of the divinity and Lordship of
Christ by focusing on his birth. (Plus, of course, overeating,
decorations, gifts, music, children dressed up as sheep, shepherds,
angels, oxen and a doll in not-a-manger-but-a-cradle, additional
worship services, singing familiar carols so often that one wishes it
would stop, etc.)
Consider
this: We are social creatures; we thrive for the most part in the
convivial company of other people. We need food, shelter, security,
belonging for our well-being, but we also need joyful celebration
just as we need Sabbath rest or a good night’s sleep. What a
tragedy it would be if we were to continue celebrating around
December 25th,
but always feeling anxious at the same time that somehow our
celebrations are failing to give Christ his due . . . on this His
birthday, no less.
There’s
something very appealing in the celebration of the march of the
seasons, even more so than in the reiteration of that which we have long accepted as true, for which we hardly need special days or an annual reminder. The incarnation is always
and everywhere. Like air. Like light. But in a cold winter, the
knowledge that every day for a time will be longer and brighter than
the last one, well that’s occasion for celebrating.
Maybe
even dancing. Perhaps celebration is the meaning of Christmas after
all. What do you think, Dylan? Charles?
Psalm 150:3-5 New International Version (NIV)
Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,praise him with the harp and lyre,
praise him with timbrel and dancing,
praise him with the strings and pipe,
praise him with the clash of cymbals,
praise him with resounding cymbals.
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