It is December 1. You know what that means - the Christmas season is upon us with all its Christmassyness. It is mostly “massyness” with very little “Christ.”
I’ve decided I’m OK with that . . . sort of.
Take a step back with me for a moment of reflection. Maybe you’ll be OK with it too.
The beginning of the 20th century was filled with hope. The Industrial Revolution proved that humanity could accomplish almost anything given enough resource of time, energy, and money. This bled into a renewal of humanism re-enforced through the work of Charles Darwin. He was able to explain away much of the previously only-by-God factor from society’s thinking. Advancements in science and new technologies confirmed this supposition. We were learning about microbes and antibiotics, performing surgeries that saved lives, and building economic empires that created unprecedented wealth.
Even with the crushing events of World War I, the Great Depression, and then World War II, there was a steadfast confidence in the ability of humans to solve our collective problems. The newly formed League of Nations would solve conflict. Vaccines would eliminate disease. There is nowhere to go but up. Hope in the human potential burnt brightly.
Predating all of this was a simple event. A baby was born. As stories go, this birth (aka, Christmas) was a unique one. It has all the elements of good storytelling: underdog potential, conflict and crisis, and finally the underdog triumphs as a hero. Unfortunately, the story also makes demands of its listeners that puts confidence in the human spirit at risk. Consequently, it is usually retold with huge inaccuracies to “recentre” its message. There was no drummer boy. The wise men - probably a lot more than just three - did not appear at the manger. I’m not sure how three ships make it into the story. Jesus birth is re-scripted to the lowest common denominator: a message of hope and joy. After all, haven’t all the fantastic advances of the last 200 years brought us closer to that dream? Jesus is just another positive input to our pursuit of all that goodness.
Ironically, the birth of Jesus IS a message of hope and joy, yet uncomfortably radical in both its content and engagement. A story about a child born? We like that. That this child is the Creator and King of all that exists? God in human form? That we have a responsibility to embrace this, a responsibility for which we will someday be held accountable? This is not so comfortable. Are we ready to accept that hope and joy are not found by looking inward to ourselves but upward to the Almighty? These are hard realities to accept.
It is no wonder Christmas is more “massyness” and less “Christ.”
The shift in focus shouldn’t surprise us. Everyone wants the hope and joy Jesus offers. Few are willing to accept the conditions which accompany them. Jesus was clear about the nature of life in His Kingdom: deferred gratification, serving others, the last being first and first being last, and willingness to endure hardship. These are not the components of Christmas marketing campaigns.
So how do we respond? Do we push back to “keep Christ in Christmas?”
Maybe that isn’t the best way forward.
It is a rare opportunity we have every December. While the true meaning of the incarnation is usually misrepresented, it does also open a door for conversations about who Jesus is, why His coming is important, and what is different because of His life, death, and resurrection. The people of Jesus’ day were confused about who He was; it it any wonder the confusion continues to this day?
There is no point trying to out-sing Mariah Carey or Bing Crosby. Perhaps, though, we can slide tangentially off their popularity to introduce an unknown truth about the season to people. Since all truth is God’s truth, surely we can find multiple commonalities which will allow us to explain who this unique Baby is. We can approach the great void of understanding with the data necessary to explain who Jesus is and why this matters.
Equally important is our own celebration of the season. If Jesus’ birth is Good News, then we have the greatest reasons for living with hope and joy. This isn’t just the celebrations over a few weeks in the month, but the joy and hope with which we embrace life all year long. Riding the high of the “massyness” of Christmas during December is one thing. Gutting out life in the lonely darkness of February is something else. In these moments we can still have and reflect hope and joy.
I don’t want people to be content with a happy-go-lucky Jesus who helps life be more comfortable. I want to remove that version of Christ from Christmas. My greatest hope for Christmas is that it will open doors to conversations about the wonder of the love behind this ultimate gift of God’s grace. Live the joy and hope and embrace the “massyness” because it is in that chaos that we will find people looking for what only Christ can offer.