(Disclaimer: No atheists were harmed in the making of this column.)
The work of Charles Dickens is like Christmas: Legions of mocking critics have been unable to kill its appeal. Why? Just as the Christmas story and its traditions grip our souls, Dickens’ characters reveal truths of the heart. In his beloved holiday fable Scrooge—which we commonly call A Christmas Carol—Dickens recognized that the main character’s rejection of all things Christmas wasn’t about Christmas at all, but about his personal demons and his jealousy of the happiness of others.
There you have the diagnosis of all the tormented litigants and spoilers who want to ban Nativity scenes on public property, or carols sung by school choirs, or even well-meant greetings of “Merry Christmas!” It’s not about Christmas. It’s about them, their disappointed lives and their outrage that fools like us delight in the “oppression of religion.” There’s no “war on Christmas” my friends, just a spiteful attack on happiness. Those who complain that the public celebration of Christmas by this nation’s Christian majority is an assault on their rights or on the Constitution are Scrooges yet unvisited by the ghosts. The wonder in a child’s eyes in front of a Christmas display excites them to shriek “Bah, humbug!” with all the strength remaining in their withered lungs and shriveled hearts.
Instead of reacting with outrage—which is exactly the attention these Scrooges crave—let’s take the approach of Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim, wishing God’s blessing on them. Not only would it spare us stress—it would drive those we-hate-Christmas Grinches crazy.
Don’t let yourself become outraged or obsessed by these unhappy people and their shenanigans. Christmas is indestructible. If relentless commercialization and no end of shabby advertising haven’t made a dent in this wondrous holiday, a lonely grump or even organizations of lonely grumps and their legions of lawyers won’t be able to deny us the wonder of Christmas.
Sure, the Scrooges have done a bit of damage: The once-ubiquitous Nativity scenes have given way to salesmen Santas in malls or on courthouse lawns—as if the holiday’s really about the generous guy with weight-control issues in the white-fur-trimmed red suit. Many of us default to “Happy Holidays!” instead of “Merry Christmas!” And school administrators have to watch their step to avoid offending a single litigious parent. But in our families (and isn’t this holiday about one very special family, after all?), churches and hearts, Christmas remains as robust as it ever was. In fact, it’s sprawling: The invasion of the month of November by Christmas trimmings and even carols turns me into a bit of a grump myself: I want to keep Christmas special.
The atheists and activists who see no more important mission in life than demanding the public suppression of Christmas tokens have won no hearts and minds for their sorry cause. On the contrary: Each court decision to remove a manger only embeds that poor cradle more deeply in our hearts. What the self-righteous meanies have done, though, is to take away some of the public fun, of the shared experience. But I believe that even that Grinchiness is counterproductive to their joyless cause—and revealing of the bitter state of the lives of those who would have ridden into Bethlehem with Herod’s soldiers, rationalizing a massacre of children as work for the common good.
This year, in Leesburg, Virginia, an “enlightened” character--who sees through all our naivety--dressed a skeleton in a Santa suit and crucified it on the courthouse lawn. What a bitter, empty life a person must have to waste time on such a gesture: By comparison, old Scrooge was a beacon of light. And what, besides a flurry of attention, did that spoilsport gain? Love? Admiration? Friendship? Salvation? We should be moved to pity, not to anger.
It bears repeating: Such protests against Christmas aren’t about the holiday, but about the devils clawing the hearts of troubled souls. The right Christian—and Christmas--response is forgiveness.
Try it. I guarantee you it will drive the activists to the brink.
Of course, there are communal experiences most American children are now forbidden, thanks to these Grinches—who accuse us of intolerance, while preaching fierce intolerance themselves. I remember, with sweet warmth, the pre-Christmas assembly in our run-down school back home in Pennsylvania, when grades seven through twelve filed into a musty auditorium to watch a strangely moving film in primitive animation. Three kings on camels nudged along in silhouette against a night sky lit by a single star. Shepherds froze, bedazzled. In a little barn, a poor mother gave birth. You did not have to be religious to take in the beauty of the simple tale. Then we sang traditional carols, exuberantly and badly. Bound together as an apprentice community, we became so enraptured that we forgot to be impatient for the end of school. For a little while, the bullies forgot to bully and the mean girls of the day spared us their jibes. Well-to-do or up-the-hollow poor, all of God’s children were equal for an hour.
Intolerant? When the bell rang and we surged into cold streets, we didn’t start a pogrom or seek out heretics to burn. We just went home to dinner with happy hearts.
Would such an assembly be such an awful thing today? I would not force children of other faiths to attend events unsuited to their religions, but it doesn’t pay to overthink their voluntary exclusion, either. In this age obsessed with minority rights, the majority has to get a fair shake, too. Just as the Christians who form the vast majority of American society should be tolerant of the practices of all law-abiding faiths, those faiths need to allow us our traditions. It would pay all Americans to be less confrontational this season—not least, because division is what the anti-Christmas activists are after.
For myself, I find the law-suits seeking to shield us from Christmas displays in public places irritating, but I shrug them off. Why let these wretched souls spoil my holiday? Don’t let them spoil yours, either. If you’re ever confronted by a protester, I suggest offering him (or her) a smile and a heartfelt “Merry Christmas!”
Instead of allowing our sensation-driven media to scare us all into thinking that Christmas is doomed, a better course would be to pause amid the urgency of shopping, wrapping and decorating to remember exactly what Christmas is about. Many of us will attend a Christmas Eve service or midnight mass—but will we contemplate the event we gather to celebrate? How many of us will sit down for ten minutes with our families and read the relevant chapters from Matthew and Luke? Will we make time in our busy lives to appreciate the incomparable gift of a child born not to prosper by the standards of this world, but to take on all the sins of humankind and suffer a dreadful death to offer the poorest among us eternal life? Along with the joys of Mary in that stable, can we conceive of her grief at the foot of the Cross? Think what a good heart Joseph had, and how the world of those magi must have been upended by what they found at their journey’s end: This wasn’t a mere king’s birth, but a revolution. And imagine how frightened the shepherds must have been, their flocks bewildered, as the sky confounded them. Isn’t there a message for our times in Herod’s slaughter of the innocents? How many refugees will endure a “flight into Egypt” as we sit down to dinner on Christmas day? Those few Gospel verses are so rich with meaning they’re inexhaustible. Let us spare them a few minutes of our time, between Christmas Eve eggnogs and the marvelous shambles of Christmas morning.
Even were I an atheist—which I am not—I would celebrate the “myth” of Christmas as the most-transcendent expression of man’s love for his fellow man and Jesus Christ as the perfect human being. The Christmas Story is our story, if only our hearts can recognize it. And Scrooge will always be outshone by its radiance.
Merry Christmas!
By Ralph Peters - Family Security Matters
The work of Charles Dickens is like Christmas: Legions of mocking critics have been unable to kill its appeal. Why? Just as the Christmas story and its traditions grip our souls, Dickens’ characters reveal truths of the heart. In his beloved holiday fable Scrooge—which we commonly call A Christmas Carol—Dickens recognized that the main character’s rejection of all things Christmas wasn’t about Christmas at all, but about his personal demons and his jealousy of the happiness of others.
There you have the diagnosis of all the tormented litigants and spoilers who want to ban Nativity scenes on public property, or carols sung by school choirs, or even well-meant greetings of “Merry Christmas!” It’s not about Christmas. It’s about them, their disappointed lives and their outrage that fools like us delight in the “oppression of religion.” There’s no “war on Christmas” my friends, just a spiteful attack on happiness. Those who complain that the public celebration of Christmas by this nation’s Christian majority is an assault on their rights or on the Constitution are Scrooges yet unvisited by the ghosts. The wonder in a child’s eyes in front of a Christmas display excites them to shriek “Bah, humbug!” with all the strength remaining in their withered lungs and shriveled hearts.
Instead of reacting with outrage—which is exactly the attention these Scrooges crave—let’s take the approach of Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim, wishing God’s blessing on them. Not only would it spare us stress—it would drive those we-hate-Christmas Grinches crazy.
Don’t let yourself become outraged or obsessed by these unhappy people and their shenanigans. Christmas is indestructible. If relentless commercialization and no end of shabby advertising haven’t made a dent in this wondrous holiday, a lonely grump or even organizations of lonely grumps and their legions of lawyers won’t be able to deny us the wonder of Christmas.
Sure, the Scrooges have done a bit of damage: The once-ubiquitous Nativity scenes have given way to salesmen Santas in malls or on courthouse lawns—as if the holiday’s really about the generous guy with weight-control issues in the white-fur-trimmed red suit. Many of us default to “Happy Holidays!” instead of “Merry Christmas!” And school administrators have to watch their step to avoid offending a single litigious parent. But in our families (and isn’t this holiday about one very special family, after all?), churches and hearts, Christmas remains as robust as it ever was. In fact, it’s sprawling: The invasion of the month of November by Christmas trimmings and even carols turns me into a bit of a grump myself: I want to keep Christmas special.
The atheists and activists who see no more important mission in life than demanding the public suppression of Christmas tokens have won no hearts and minds for their sorry cause. On the contrary: Each court decision to remove a manger only embeds that poor cradle more deeply in our hearts. What the self-righteous meanies have done, though, is to take away some of the public fun, of the shared experience. But I believe that even that Grinchiness is counterproductive to their joyless cause—and revealing of the bitter state of the lives of those who would have ridden into Bethlehem with Herod’s soldiers, rationalizing a massacre of children as work for the common good.
This year, in Leesburg, Virginia, an “enlightened” character--who sees through all our naivety--dressed a skeleton in a Santa suit and crucified it on the courthouse lawn. What a bitter, empty life a person must have to waste time on such a gesture: By comparison, old Scrooge was a beacon of light. And what, besides a flurry of attention, did that spoilsport gain? Love? Admiration? Friendship? Salvation? We should be moved to pity, not to anger.
It bears repeating: Such protests against Christmas aren’t about the holiday, but about the devils clawing the hearts of troubled souls. The right Christian—and Christmas--response is forgiveness.
Try it. I guarantee you it will drive the activists to the brink.
Of course, there are communal experiences most American children are now forbidden, thanks to these Grinches—who accuse us of intolerance, while preaching fierce intolerance themselves. I remember, with sweet warmth, the pre-Christmas assembly in our run-down school back home in Pennsylvania, when grades seven through twelve filed into a musty auditorium to watch a strangely moving film in primitive animation. Three kings on camels nudged along in silhouette against a night sky lit by a single star. Shepherds froze, bedazzled. In a little barn, a poor mother gave birth. You did not have to be religious to take in the beauty of the simple tale. Then we sang traditional carols, exuberantly and badly. Bound together as an apprentice community, we became so enraptured that we forgot to be impatient for the end of school. For a little while, the bullies forgot to bully and the mean girls of the day spared us their jibes. Well-to-do or up-the-hollow poor, all of God’s children were equal for an hour.
Intolerant? When the bell rang and we surged into cold streets, we didn’t start a pogrom or seek out heretics to burn. We just went home to dinner with happy hearts.
Would such an assembly be such an awful thing today? I would not force children of other faiths to attend events unsuited to their religions, but it doesn’t pay to overthink their voluntary exclusion, either. In this age obsessed with minority rights, the majority has to get a fair shake, too. Just as the Christians who form the vast majority of American society should be tolerant of the practices of all law-abiding faiths, those faiths need to allow us our traditions. It would pay all Americans to be less confrontational this season—not least, because division is what the anti-Christmas activists are after.
For myself, I find the law-suits seeking to shield us from Christmas displays in public places irritating, but I shrug them off. Why let these wretched souls spoil my holiday? Don’t let them spoil yours, either. If you’re ever confronted by a protester, I suggest offering him (or her) a smile and a heartfelt “Merry Christmas!”
Instead of allowing our sensation-driven media to scare us all into thinking that Christmas is doomed, a better course would be to pause amid the urgency of shopping, wrapping and decorating to remember exactly what Christmas is about. Many of us will attend a Christmas Eve service or midnight mass—but will we contemplate the event we gather to celebrate? How many of us will sit down for ten minutes with our families and read the relevant chapters from Matthew and Luke? Will we make time in our busy lives to appreciate the incomparable gift of a child born not to prosper by the standards of this world, but to take on all the sins of humankind and suffer a dreadful death to offer the poorest among us eternal life? Along with the joys of Mary in that stable, can we conceive of her grief at the foot of the Cross? Think what a good heart Joseph had, and how the world of those magi must have been upended by what they found at their journey’s end: This wasn’t a mere king’s birth, but a revolution. And imagine how frightened the shepherds must have been, their flocks bewildered, as the sky confounded them. Isn’t there a message for our times in Herod’s slaughter of the innocents? How many refugees will endure a “flight into Egypt” as we sit down to dinner on Christmas day? Those few Gospel verses are so rich with meaning they’re inexhaustible. Let us spare them a few minutes of our time, between Christmas Eve eggnogs and the marvelous shambles of Christmas morning.
Even were I an atheist—which I am not—I would celebrate the “myth” of Christmas as the most-transcendent expression of man’s love for his fellow man and Jesus Christ as the perfect human being. The Christmas Story is our story, if only our hearts can recognize it. And Scrooge will always be outshone by its radiance.
Merry Christmas!
By Ralph Peters - Family Security Matters
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