It’s the night before Thanksgiving and visions of Santa Claus dance in my head. A brief trip to the mall confirms that the Christmas shopping season is in full swing. Christmas decorations dominate every window display and the sound of familiar carols drift through the air. And everywhere Santa, eyes crinkling with delight, beckons. Shop here! Or there! Or better yet, everywhere! And don’t forget to have your picture taken sitting in Santa’s lap. The line of waiting children snakes past the Starbucks kiosk, explaining why so many parents are drinking from those iconic seasonal red cups.
But a Santa large enough to accommodate twins in his lap doesn’t fit the image I have of him – an image forged in childhood from that most famous of Christmas poems: “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” He is, after all, “chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf.” And a tiny one at that.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
“All tarnished with ashes and soot” and small enough to slide easily down the chimney, he makes a grand entrance (I suspect accompanied by a fine ash cloud). But this small figure from an 1823 poem has come to represent something a great deal larger than Clement Clarke Moore imagined when he wrote these lyrics for his children. Millions of other children have drifted off to sleep while straining to hear sleigh bells and the sound of hooves on the roof. Households all across the country are decorated every December in red and green with little Santas and sleighs to keep the magic alive. But this imagined world where time stands still so that Santa can visit every boy and girl gives way to a much harsher reality. We grow up, and we stop believing in magic.
The original Christmas knew no Santas, no gaily decorated evergreens, no Christmas goose or pudding, but it knew joy. The angel brought a message of hope: “Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people … And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men.” It is this event we celebrate with “Christ’s Mass.” We celebrate the promise that through the incarnation all of us can enter into a new relationship with the Creator God. One founded on the sacrificial love of his Son, Jesus. The Santa-centerpiece and the holly wreaths will soon be put away for another year, but the manger scene on the mantel reminds us of a promise that does not fade or disappoint. It is the promise of God’s peace and good will to all people. Whether we are surrounded by family or celebrating the season by ourselves, we are never alone. The love of God made present to us by the birth of his son is the promise of the angels and the promise of the ages.
This season I choose not to worry about the commercialization of Christmas nor will I preach about it. Recovering the meaning of Christmas is something that we must do for ourselves. I will acknowledge and celebrate all of the aspects of Christmas. On Christmas Eve I will gather with my brothers and sisters in the faith to sing our favorite Christmas hymns, to watch the children place the figures in the manger scene, and I will join with Christians all over the world in offering prayer and praise to the one born in the manger, Jesus. But then I will go home to sit before our tree, and perhaps fall asleep with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head as I listen for sleigh bells and the sound of tiny hooves on the roof.
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all goodnight.”
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