‘Jesus is the reason for the season.?
‘Wise Men Still Seek Him.?
It’s the annual self-righteous cluck about the media commercialization of Christmas. No one is safe from the Christmas Police this year, not even me (see last week’s edition of my husband’s award-winning column Don’t Rush Me. My name is Jennie and I married Don). I’m in good company ? even the President of the United States was lambasted by his fellow Fundamentalist Christians for sending out Christmas cards that were too secular.
So if that’s not proof enough that a Christmas miracle has taken place, (who’da thunk Dubya and I would stand on the same side of anything?) I don’t know what is!
But a quick history check shows the concept of a winter celebration is not unique to Christianity. From the beginnings of human history, solstice celebrations have brightened the dark winter nights for thousands of years.
Egyptians believed Osiris was born in late December. Ancient Norse and Celtic peoples celebrated their spiritual connection to the universe with Yule. The Roman tradition of Twelfth Night is well known and still celebrated around the world.
The Nativity story follows in this tradition. Biblical scholars agree that Jesus was probably not born in December, but possibly early September. However, combining long established community celebrations with the simple and humble Nativity legend was a perfect fit ? and Christmas was born. It’s an amalgam of the best of humanity’s traditions blended into a communal spirituality that transcends time and culture.
This short history lesson is not meant to belittle the birth of Jesus 2,000 years ago, nor the Christmas celebration that followed. It’s meant as a reminder that all cultures rejoice in the hope symbolized by a baby’s birth; how basic is our need for festivity and ritual, how deeply etched in our bones is our connection with the earth. Humanity’s spiritual yearnings are universal no matter what the form.
That being said, we should recognize that Christmas belongs to no one. Wishing a fellow citizen ‘Happy Holidays? is not a blasphemic utterance, but a genuine wish by those infused with the Christmas spirit to share their joy in a way to transcend all faiths.
To demand department stores hawk their celebratory wares ‘In the Name of Christ? not only is unseemly, but flies in the face of the teachings of Jesus himself (perhaps you remember the story of Jesus in the Temple?)
Christmas is a living entity, one rooted in the depths of the human spirit to find goodness and light in the darkest days of winter. It is fragile, beautiful, changing ? like a winter bird that brightens the stark snowy landscape. Those who insist on clutching its delicate and wondrous spirit in an attempt to mold it to their own ideals crush the very soul of its primal beauty.
In order for Christmas to be Christmas, it must be a deep and personal expression of our joys in connecting with family, community and the vast and beautiful universe and its creative forces. While we can take comfort in traditions and teachings of modern religions, Christmas is still best celebrated deep within the soul where even language and thought are transcended.
The Nativity story reminds all that even in the darkest winters of our lives, seeds of beautiful life-changing events are planted just waiting for the springtime to blossom.
* * *
Message from Mr. Rush: Nicely put, Dear Wife.
* * *
Also on the Christmas front, five-year-old Sean finally talked to the big man with the long white beard, aka: Santa. During the past week, Sean became increasingly nervous Santa would not know what to bring down the chimney. For some reason he didn’t trust the US Postal Service to get his letter to the North Pole in time.
‘How far is the North Pole?? he asked me.
‘Far.?
‘How many days ’til Christmas??
‘Not too many.?
‘How far is the North Pole??
‘Like I said, far.?
‘Can we just call Santa??
That was the exchange all weekend. And, when Mom finally did get a hold of the red-suited one, Santa amazingly sounded an awful lot like Ortonville’s Tom Roberts. After Sean got over being star-struck and dumbfounded, he told Santa what he wanted and treated the rotund-one (Santa, not Tom) to the classic elementary version of Jingle Bells — Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg, Batmobile lost its wheel and the Joker got away, hey!
Santa (not Tom) was amused.