Christmas In The Crossfire
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle B
Object:
One Monday, a couple of years ago, my wife and I crossed the driveway from the manse to the church to give blood -- the regular bi-monthly Red Cross drive. It was the first time either of us had been permitted to donate in over a year because of the restrictions on donations from anyone who had been in Mexico within the preceding twelve months, and we had been there on a mission trip. There was the danger of Malaria. We went through all the preliminaries -- sign in, read the instructions, blood pressure, pinprick, health questions -- then, finally, up on the table, arm out, tourniquet on, and voilá, the blood flows.
There are certain things one does not want to happen when lying there in such a vulnerable position. You do not want to hear someone who is working on you suddenly say, "Oops." You do not want to look at the face of the technician and see a reflection of horror. Suddenly, the technician speaks in a voice of barely disguised panic to one of her supervisors, "Could you come over here and look at this?" -- no way. Then the supervisor comes, looks quickly, and calls to her supervisor, "Could you come over here and look at this, please?"
Meanwhile, I am lying there more than a little curious. "What's the matter?"
"It's the wrong color."
Wrong color? Well, I am Presbyterian, so a certain tint of blue might not be unexpected. "Wrong color?" I asked. She held up the bag for me to see, and she was right -- it was the wrong color. It was fire-engine red instead of the deeper burgundy that one would expect to see. On top of that, the bag filled up in seconds, not the several minutes it normally takes. It seems they had tapped an artery instead of a vein, and that was not supposed to happen.
I told them if I died on that table, one of them would have to preach this Sunday. That was another shock for which they were not prepared. One of the supervisors asked if I was the pastor and, of course, I said, "Yes." She turned to the technician who had initially taken care of me and said, "If you didn't have bad luck, you wouldn't have any luck at all."
Well, as is obvious, they managed to keep me alive. They gave me instructions on what to do upon returning home, and if any problems arose, call 9-1-1. They also said that someone from the Red Cross office would be calling to check on me in the next few days to see how things were going. There were no problems later, except for a massive ugly bruise that they had said was likely. I thought no more about it, but I let Christie know that evening that I would not be able to help much around the house -- doctor's orders, you know. She said, "You are going to milk this for all it's worth, aren't you?" I just smiled sweetly.
A couple of days later, 7:15 a.m., the phone rang. It was the Red Cross. This was the call they said I would get. They wanted to know if everything was all right, had there been any aftereffects, if there was anything they could do, and so on and so on. No, no, no -- everything was fine. No problems at all. Finally, with relief in the caller's voice, the conversation came to an end and she said, "Oh, and by the way, 'Merry Christmas.' It just feels so good to say that." The sense of joy in her voice was almost palpable as she said something that, one would have thought, had been absolutely forbidden up 'til now. Wow! Merry Christmas! It sounded a little weird, frankly. I think I held the phone away from my ear a moment and looked at it before I responded, "Yes, and Merry Christmas to you, too." And that was the end of it.
Of course, it was not the end of it, as this little vignette attests. I had told the staff at the blood bank that this incident would end up in a sermon sometime, somewhere. After all, blood holds a prominent place in our faith. Some of the Bible's most important truths involve blood -- the life of the flesh is in the blood (Leviticus 17:11); we have redemption through [Christ's] blood, the forgiveness of sins (Ephesians 1:7); the blood of Jesus ... purifies us from all sin (1 John 1:7); just to name a few. Blood is a big deal biblically.
But that is not what got those anxious technicians into this tale. It was the almost joyous kicking over the traces of that wish for a "... Merry Christmas -- it just feels so good to say that."
It has always felt good for me to say it, too. And, to be honest, I never worried much about it. I have tried to be somewhat sensitive and not extend the wish to my Jewish or Muslim friends. That would have made no sense, but I have never felt particularly reluctant to say it. Have you?
What brings it to mind is this bizarre concern that some people have been supposedly feeling in recent years about being prevented from wishing folks, "Merry Christmas." Apparently, it all started when somebody on FOX News started a "Christmas Under Siege" campaign noting that many businesses were not wishing shoppers, "Merry Christmas" upon the completion of their transactions, but rather something innocuous and non-specific like, "Happy Holidays." The ultra-right wing John Birch Society said the same thing in the 1950s calling it a conspiracy concocted by the Godless United Nations. Not to be outdone, Focus on the Family's James Dobson started something called the Alliance Defense Fund running a project with the motto: "Merry Christmas. It's okay to say it." Jerry Falwell launched a "Friend or Foe Christmas Campaign," with promises to file suit against anyone who spread "misinformation" about how Christmas can be celebrated in schools and public spaces. He said he had 750 lawyers who were ready to pounce if, for example, a teacher were muzzled from leading the third graders in "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing." Of course, those 750 lawyers did not come cheap, so your tax-deductible contributions were most welcome to insure the success of this important venture.
One of the FOX News folks, John Gibson, even published a book called The War on Christmas: How the Liberal Plot to Ban the Sacred Christian Holiday Is Worse Than You Thought. Huh? I am a liberal, and proud of it, but the only thing I have ever plotted at Christmas is how to survive without going into bankruptcy.
Truth is, America has a complicated history with Christmas, going back to the Puritans, who despised it and considered the celebration un-Christian. The concern that Christmas distracted from religious piety continued even after Puritans faded away. In 1827, an Episcopal bishop lamented that the devil had stolen Christmas "and converted it into a day of worldly festivity, shooting, and swearing."
Christmas began to gain popularity when it was transformed into a domestic celebration, after the publication of Clement Clarke Moore's Visit from St. Nicholas and Thomas Nast's drawings in Harper's Weekly that created the image of a white-bearded Santa who gave gifts to children. The new emphasis lessened religious leaders' worries that the holiday would be given over to drinking and shooting and swearing, but it introduced another concern: commercialism. And, we have been battling that ever since with a notable lack of success and to the great relief of the nation's retailers who do their best business of the year just prior to Christmas.
These days, the "defenders" of Christmas are not just tolerating commercialization -- they are insisting upon it. Shop at the places that will wish you, "Merry Christmas," not just, "Happy Holidays."
Enough already! Christmas is just getting caught in the political crossfire. We are living in an America that, I am convinced, is not nearly so divided as some folks who have been exploiting us want us to believe. The vast majority of us agree on the vast majority of issues -- social, political, theological, whatever. There are some fringe issues about which we might disagree, but so what? We do not have to agree on everything to successfully live and work together -- ask any husband or wife. My advice is simply this: do not get caught up in these controversies. They are not worth it, they serve no purpose except to those who are trying to exploit them and us, and they certainly do not reflect well on us as Christians.
All I want for Christmas this year is grace -- just grace. The story of Christmas is, after all, at its heart, a story of grace. The coming of Jesus Christ into our world is the affirmation of God's unmerited favor to us. Look again at that little New Testament "postcard" (it's hardly long enough to be called something as highfalutin as an "epistle") to Titus: "For the grace of God that brings salvation ... Jesus ... has appeared to all ..." (Titus 2:11). Grace -- the essence of Christmas.
Grace -- that is what I want for Christmas this year ... grace. You, too? I want to be a grace-giver, too, because I know that will begin to make this world more the place that the gracious God who sent us Jesus wants it to be. Oh, and Merry Christmas. It does feel good to say it.
There are certain things one does not want to happen when lying there in such a vulnerable position. You do not want to hear someone who is working on you suddenly say, "Oops." You do not want to look at the face of the technician and see a reflection of horror. Suddenly, the technician speaks in a voice of barely disguised panic to one of her supervisors, "Could you come over here and look at this?" -- no way. Then the supervisor comes, looks quickly, and calls to her supervisor, "Could you come over here and look at this, please?"
Meanwhile, I am lying there more than a little curious. "What's the matter?"
"It's the wrong color."
Wrong color? Well, I am Presbyterian, so a certain tint of blue might not be unexpected. "Wrong color?" I asked. She held up the bag for me to see, and she was right -- it was the wrong color. It was fire-engine red instead of the deeper burgundy that one would expect to see. On top of that, the bag filled up in seconds, not the several minutes it normally takes. It seems they had tapped an artery instead of a vein, and that was not supposed to happen.
I told them if I died on that table, one of them would have to preach this Sunday. That was another shock for which they were not prepared. One of the supervisors asked if I was the pastor and, of course, I said, "Yes." She turned to the technician who had initially taken care of me and said, "If you didn't have bad luck, you wouldn't have any luck at all."
Well, as is obvious, they managed to keep me alive. They gave me instructions on what to do upon returning home, and if any problems arose, call 9-1-1. They also said that someone from the Red Cross office would be calling to check on me in the next few days to see how things were going. There were no problems later, except for a massive ugly bruise that they had said was likely. I thought no more about it, but I let Christie know that evening that I would not be able to help much around the house -- doctor's orders, you know. She said, "You are going to milk this for all it's worth, aren't you?" I just smiled sweetly.
A couple of days later, 7:15 a.m., the phone rang. It was the Red Cross. This was the call they said I would get. They wanted to know if everything was all right, had there been any aftereffects, if there was anything they could do, and so on and so on. No, no, no -- everything was fine. No problems at all. Finally, with relief in the caller's voice, the conversation came to an end and she said, "Oh, and by the way, 'Merry Christmas.' It just feels so good to say that." The sense of joy in her voice was almost palpable as she said something that, one would have thought, had been absolutely forbidden up 'til now. Wow! Merry Christmas! It sounded a little weird, frankly. I think I held the phone away from my ear a moment and looked at it before I responded, "Yes, and Merry Christmas to you, too." And that was the end of it.
Of course, it was not the end of it, as this little vignette attests. I had told the staff at the blood bank that this incident would end up in a sermon sometime, somewhere. After all, blood holds a prominent place in our faith. Some of the Bible's most important truths involve blood -- the life of the flesh is in the blood (Leviticus 17:11); we have redemption through [Christ's] blood, the forgiveness of sins (Ephesians 1:7); the blood of Jesus ... purifies us from all sin (1 John 1:7); just to name a few. Blood is a big deal biblically.
But that is not what got those anxious technicians into this tale. It was the almost joyous kicking over the traces of that wish for a "... Merry Christmas -- it just feels so good to say that."
It has always felt good for me to say it, too. And, to be honest, I never worried much about it. I have tried to be somewhat sensitive and not extend the wish to my Jewish or Muslim friends. That would have made no sense, but I have never felt particularly reluctant to say it. Have you?
What brings it to mind is this bizarre concern that some people have been supposedly feeling in recent years about being prevented from wishing folks, "Merry Christmas." Apparently, it all started when somebody on FOX News started a "Christmas Under Siege" campaign noting that many businesses were not wishing shoppers, "Merry Christmas" upon the completion of their transactions, but rather something innocuous and non-specific like, "Happy Holidays." The ultra-right wing John Birch Society said the same thing in the 1950s calling it a conspiracy concocted by the Godless United Nations. Not to be outdone, Focus on the Family's James Dobson started something called the Alliance Defense Fund running a project with the motto: "Merry Christmas. It's okay to say it." Jerry Falwell launched a "Friend or Foe Christmas Campaign," with promises to file suit against anyone who spread "misinformation" about how Christmas can be celebrated in schools and public spaces. He said he had 750 lawyers who were ready to pounce if, for example, a teacher were muzzled from leading the third graders in "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing." Of course, those 750 lawyers did not come cheap, so your tax-deductible contributions were most welcome to insure the success of this important venture.
One of the FOX News folks, John Gibson, even published a book called The War on Christmas: How the Liberal Plot to Ban the Sacred Christian Holiday Is Worse Than You Thought. Huh? I am a liberal, and proud of it, but the only thing I have ever plotted at Christmas is how to survive without going into bankruptcy.
Truth is, America has a complicated history with Christmas, going back to the Puritans, who despised it and considered the celebration un-Christian. The concern that Christmas distracted from religious piety continued even after Puritans faded away. In 1827, an Episcopal bishop lamented that the devil had stolen Christmas "and converted it into a day of worldly festivity, shooting, and swearing."
Christmas began to gain popularity when it was transformed into a domestic celebration, after the publication of Clement Clarke Moore's Visit from St. Nicholas and Thomas Nast's drawings in Harper's Weekly that created the image of a white-bearded Santa who gave gifts to children. The new emphasis lessened religious leaders' worries that the holiday would be given over to drinking and shooting and swearing, but it introduced another concern: commercialism. And, we have been battling that ever since with a notable lack of success and to the great relief of the nation's retailers who do their best business of the year just prior to Christmas.
These days, the "defenders" of Christmas are not just tolerating commercialization -- they are insisting upon it. Shop at the places that will wish you, "Merry Christmas," not just, "Happy Holidays."
Enough already! Christmas is just getting caught in the political crossfire. We are living in an America that, I am convinced, is not nearly so divided as some folks who have been exploiting us want us to believe. The vast majority of us agree on the vast majority of issues -- social, political, theological, whatever. There are some fringe issues about which we might disagree, but so what? We do not have to agree on everything to successfully live and work together -- ask any husband or wife. My advice is simply this: do not get caught up in these controversies. They are not worth it, they serve no purpose except to those who are trying to exploit them and us, and they certainly do not reflect well on us as Christians.
All I want for Christmas this year is grace -- just grace. The story of Christmas is, after all, at its heart, a story of grace. The coming of Jesus Christ into our world is the affirmation of God's unmerited favor to us. Look again at that little New Testament "postcard" (it's hardly long enough to be called something as highfalutin as an "epistle") to Titus: "For the grace of God that brings salvation ... Jesus ... has appeared to all ..." (Titus 2:11). Grace -- the essence of Christmas.
Grace -- that is what I want for Christmas this year ... grace. You, too? I want to be a grace-giver, too, because I know that will begin to make this world more the place that the gracious God who sent us Jesus wants it to be. Oh, and Merry Christmas. It does feel good to say it.
