One of Dougal's most famous
lines from Father Ted comes as he returns disappointed from
opening the Advent Calendar and says to Ted: "Three
guys pointing up at a star? Sure, what's Christmassy about
that?"
And yet, like Shakespeare's
fool, maybe Dougal was the one with the greater insight.
What is Christmassy about the original Christmas story?
It's more common for us to
ask the question the other way round: what have all the
embellishments that surround us at this time of year to
do with Christmas? However, maybe we need to accept the
reality of what Christmas has become (if indeed it was ever
any different) and ask why on earth we would want to maintain
even a passing reference to the Saviour of the World in
the midst of such mayhem?
Surely, having him associated
with this monster we are creating dishonours him. He shouldn't
have to compete for space with drunken parties, fairy lights,
a stuffed bird and a hectic TV Schedule.
Recently there was a mild
furore over the Government's decision to drop references
to Christmas from its greetings cards, and over explicitly
Christian carols being banned from some shopping centres.
These were seen as erosions of "Christian culture".
Personally, I couldn't understand why so many were getting
their tinsel in a tangle.
The veracity of the biblical
record does not stand or fall on a Christmas card from Whitehall.
Our freedom to proclaim "Christ the Redeemer is born"
does not depend on the words being crooned through piped
music in Castle Court. In fact, there is some strength to
the argument that maintaining vestiges of Christianity in
amongst the rest of the trappings functions, for most of
the population, as an antidote to the real thing. It allows
just enough sentimental spirituality to seep through while
emasculating the real message of its challenge and power.
No. I, for one, wouldn't
lose a wink of sleep if all references to Jesus were excised
from our cultural festivities. This is not defeatism, still
less an abandonment of a Christian's mandate to be a transformative
agent in society. It is, rather, a call for clarity and
for a move away from confusing syncretism. The streets and
towns of our country are more likely to be changed by the
loving sacrificial actions of those who personally know
the One born at Bethlehem, than by nativity scenes in supermarkets.
So, I say, let the music
roll with songs of snowmen and reindeer; let the curtain
rise on children's plays starring Superman, Santa, penguins
and carrots, a la Love Actually; and let's wish friend and
neighbour a Happy Holiday. Let Christmas complete its metamorphosis
into either a neo-pagan Winter festival or a materialistic
circus. Meanwhile, those of us who really believe in the
events of Bethlehem 2000 years ago can quietly get on with
celebrating the real thing. We'll find a different name:
Nativity perhaps, or Incarnation, or maybe just Advent.
After all, think about the
magnitude of what it is we want to take time out to consider.
Almighty God sharing the filth of a barn and experiencing
life as an illegitimate child of a homeless teenage refugee;
God choosing to break the news first to a bunch of casual
farm-hands on the night-shift; a birth considered so politically
significant that it resulted in a crazed megalomaniac ordering
a genocide; the beginning of a life that would transform
millions but which would end as ignominiously as it began-
like that of a common criminal at the hand of executioners.
We meditate on One whose
life spanned from borrowed barn to borrowed tomb - yet who
claimed to be King of kings, Creator and Sovereign of the
Universe. A claim that many today are still finding convincing.
All of this seems, to me, too important to trivialise with
tinsel, snow and jingle-bells.
I just want to find some
space, follow the example of the shepherds, kneel and adore.
David Montgomery
This opinion piece
was first published in the Belfast Newsletter in December
2006. Used with the author’s permission.
