Reclaiming Christmas for Christ

Over at the Gutless Pacifist, Pen has a provocative post about the pagan origins of our December 25 celebration of Christmas, the frantic guilt-fed commercialism and materialism of the American Christmas traditions.

I can accept that historically Jesus could not have been born anywhere near December 25. It was most likely in the autumn. (Hmm … a little closer to September 13 maybe? A date that is near to the heart of this humble blogger?) I can understand that it is a co-opting of Saturnalia and the winter solstice. If the Christian church really wants to be counter-cultural, maybe we should move Christmas to September or October. It really matters very little to me when we mark the day, since the most important thing is to celebrate the Incarnation, Emmanuel, the dawning of the Kingdom of God.

It really doesn’t even bother me that much to know that the Christmas tree, Santa Claus, lights and giving presents is pretty much rooted in pagan symbolism. It would be very difficult for me, sentimentally to give up most of that, brought up as I was surrounded by warm family celebrations that have become anchoring memories to my parents and traditions for my family today.

But if I had to chuck it all, I could do that. Just leave me my carols and my crèche.

But before we go to pitching out all of our beloved Christmas traditions, perhaps we should give them a second look. As Augustine’s “City of God” let the metanarrative of Christ enter into and encompass the pagan story, I think that the church today can do the same thing with Christmas. Jesus’ story can encompass the lights, the trees and the gift-giving — infusing them with a meaning deeper and more profound than the pagan origins. After all, there were whispers of truth, touchstones of faith, even in Greek and Roman paganism.

So I hang lights on my house because Jesus came to be the light of the world and because “the people in darkness have seen a great light” and because I am also to be a light to the darkness. And because the long Michigan winter darkness needs to be brightened.

I’ll put up the tree this weekend in celebration with my family, and Amy will again reminisce about each ornament as she puts it in place. I will feel tied again to my mom and dad and remember Midnight Masses, incense and beautiful singing. And I will also remember that my Lord died on a tree in my place.

I will buy presents for those I love — not out of guilt, but because it brings both the giver and the receiver great joy. And remember the great gift of grace brought by the Son of Man.

So that'll be the Millinger Christmas. I've long ago let go of the parts of the celebration that stress me out, and cling to the traditions that deepen the meaning of the season for me. Maybe I'll get the Christmas cards mailed on time, and maybe I won't, or maybe they'll just go out late. But when I'm sitting in the darkened church, holding my candle and singing "Silent Night," nothing that I didn't do will matter at all.

Comments

[Mike]

Well said.

[Linea]

Sounds like my idea of Christmas too.

[William Luse]

Very, very nice.

[RiverStone]

Absolutely beautiful. You've summed up exactly how I feel about our Christmas traditions, but much better than I could have.