CHRISTMAS EVE 2005
by Forrest Church
Let me begin, quite simply, by wishing you a Merry Christmas. You will notice that I didn't blaspheme the season by wishing you "Happy Holidays." According to the new religiously correct thought police who have appeared out of nowhere to take possession of our television sets, only wimps and liberals wish one another "Happy Holidays." Red-blooded patriotic Americans have the guts to say "Merry Christmas" even to their Jewish and Muslim neighbors—that's how tough they are. Real men have real religious convictions, and real women too, as long as they are blond. So "Merry Christmas"—and pass the ammunition.
It's really quite a wonder. Not as great a wonder as the star, of course, but perplexing nonetheless. After years of prim sermons about the importance of de-commercializing Christmas, the new political religious orthodoxy is doing everything possible to replace Santa Claus with Jesus in the Department Store Windows, not to mention the White House Lawn. Before long we will be talking about Christmas tax cuts for the rich and a Christmas roll back of benefits for the poor.
The dour Puritans of long ago banned Christmas celebrations for a reason. They knew in their hearts it would be desecrated. In their wildest imaginings, however, Cotton Mather and Jonathan Edwards could never have dreamed just how far the perversion would extend. There's just one problem. In order to save America's soul by spelling out Merry Christmas in Red, White, and Blue, the religious thought police appear to have forgotten one small thing about Christmas: the story itself. That's because the story doesn't jibe with the prevailing ethos. In fact, it places the entire Christian American value system under judgment.
Lest we forget, here is how the story goes. The third year of the Common Era was marked in Judea by a great tax (a war tax if you will) imposed by Rome and shouldered unequally, as taxes were then and certainly are today. At pain of death, the nation's poor had to travel for days sometimes to be enrolled in their hometowns and then pay a staggering assessment of 80%— 2 shekels for you, eight for Caesar.
Among the itinerant poor, a man by the name of Joseph—who surely had enough troubles of his own already—was touched by the liberal spirit (the spirit of generosity, tolerance, and brotherly love) to take under his wing an unwed pregnant teenager by the name of Mary. When they arrived in Bethlehem to pay the freight for a Roman war that had nothing to do with their safety or wellbeing, this alternative family sought shelter in an inn, but all the inns were full. When the inns of the world are full, the poor find shelter where they can, in a stable yard, say, on a bed of straw among the pigs and cattle. Forget every cr¸che you've ever seen; this was not a pretty picture, nothing Hallmark or even Fox News would want to see on the cover of a card.
But then, behold, a child is born—in society's eyes a bastard child, whom generous hearted Joseph and poor bewildered Mary wrap in swaddling clothes and lay in a manger.
Like every great story, the Christmas story has a twist. This unwed, socially ostracized family, their widow's mite purloined by an uncaring government to underwrite the empire's military adventures and its leaders' lavish lifestyles, in short, the poorest of the poor do what? That's right. They give birth to the Son of God!
Let me quote here a wise old African woman, whose job it was to instruct the children of her village in the tribe's guiding myths. She gathered them around her in a circle and told them, solemnly and with utmost seriousness, "The stories that I am about to tell you are not true, but they are the most important stories that you will ever hear."
The story I have just told you may not be true. Nonetheless, we do know this to be true. The young man didn't grow up to be a Republican. Or even a liberal Democrat for that matter. He grew up to be a radical whose message buoyed the hopes of the local poor and changed the lives of those among the local rich who recognized their souls to be in jeopardy. He was killed by agents of the government. And then his ideals were sacrificed by one generation of followers after another, who went to war and persecuted their neighbors in his holy name.
His name was Jesus. Love your enemies, he said. Judge not that you be not judged. Give away everything you have to the poor, if you wish to go to heaven.
When his disciples asked him how to get to heaven, he said nothing about the sins our modern day moralists dish up to win elections. Nothing about banning Gay Marriage or teaching religion in science class. They questions he asked them were: Did you house the homeless, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, and visit those in prison?
In fact, if we were to pray for an honest to God Christmas card from the government this year, it would be a multi- billion dollar Marshall plan not just to rebuild New Orleans but to make this nation worthy of its soaring ideals by ministering unto the poorest among us, by fulfilling our covenant with the Josephs and Marys of our own time in the names of Jesus and Roosevelt and Martin Luther King.
Is this too much to hope for? Not on Christmas Eve it isn't. At Christmas, hope speaks in the eternal language of love to the broken-hearted, charity to the needy, and peace to a war-torn world. Hope answers the depredations of power with symbols of eternal majesty. Not majestic like Herod or Caesar. Not mighty like Rome or even like America, a kinder and gentler Rome. But the majesty and dignity of a child born into the underclass whose every utterance witnesses to a power beyond that of all the world's principalities.
So kneel with me at the manger. Adore the child. Enter the circle of peace on earth, the circle of love and compassion, where the most forsaken among us may rediscover hope and encounter joy. This is the story of Christmas. Is it a true story? The baby and the shepherds and the Magi and the star? No, it is better than a true story. If we unchain our hearts and permit ourselves to be chastened and uplifted by its liberating message, this untrue story may just be the most important story we will ever hear.
Amen. I love you. Merry Christmas. And may God bless us all.