Sentimental and Quaint?

Do we Episcopalians “luxuriate in quaint traditions?” Have we here at St. Peter’s, become “quaint and sweet?” On New Year’s Day, Tom Ehrich, an Episcopal priest and church wellness consultant, updated his Facebook status, saying that taking down his Christmas tree, which he had just done, made him “sad.” While some people shared his feelings, others took him to task for not waiting to take down his tree until January 6th, the end of Christmas tide in the church. In response, Ehrich accused us of fixating on sentimental rituals, refusing to proclaim the good news of Christmas when people really want to hear it, i.e., before December 25th, and prolonging Christmas for twelve days after the 25th, “in order to justify a holy day once considered important.” In a time when people are dealing with all kinds of hard questions, with wars, massacres, unemployment, homelessness, and disaster, Ehrich said, we convey “sentimental softness” and worry about Kings’ cakes and trees. No wonder, he concluded, that people widely perceive us “as a self-serving assembly where people luxuriate in quaint traditions and whine when anything changes.”1

Have we become quaint and sweet? Are we dodging the hard questions in favor of sentimental feel-good rituals? Let me begin answering those questions by disentangling secular Christmas from liturgical Christmas. By secular Christmas I mean all those things we do as part of American Christmas observance that have little Christian origin or significance. You know what I’m talking about here: the holiday shopping season, that begins earlier and earlier each fall, “black Friday” and “cyber Monday,” store decorations, holiday Muzak, Christmas trees and wreaths, gifts, dinners, travel, and on and on. Actually, we haven’t been observing secular Christmas all that long – since no earlier than the latter part of the 19th century – and most of what we associate with Christmas comes from pagan sources. Even liturgical Christmas as a major celebration is relatively recent. In fact, well into the 19th century, Puritans in New England refused to celebrate it at all. Of course, no one knows when Jesus was born. The western church fixed the date as December 25th in the 4th century to correspond with the Roman celebration of the return of the sun. Even so, in the medieval church, liturgical Christmas lasted at least until Twelfth Night, i.e., today, Epiphany, or even until the Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple forty days after his birth, i.e., on February 2nd. Meanwhile, in the orthodox churches until very recently Jesus’ birth was celebrated on Epiphany, and for the Orthodox, Epiphany is still the more important festival.

So should we listen to Tom Ehrich? Should we capitulate to secular Christmas? Should we begin our celebration of Jesus’ birth the day after Thanksgiving, decorate our churches at the beginning of December, sing Christmas carols throughout the month, and toss out the tree and the poinsettias on New Year’s Day? There’s no one who would like to see this parish grow more than I would, but is chucking traditional liturgical Christmas the answer?

Perhaps we need to deepen our understanding of the meaning of liturgical Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. You may recall that in Advent we remembered that God had promised us the renewal of all creation and the restoration of peace and harmony among all peoples under the reign of Jesus. As we waited through the long days of Advent our longing for Jesus’ appearance grew deeper. Finally, on Christmas Eve, during the darkest week of the year, we could joyfully celebrate. Like the people of old who had waited so long, we could celebrate that God had entered human time and inaugurated God’s time, we could celebrate that the Word of God took on skin and moved into our neighborhood, and we could celebrate that the Light from Light blazed up in our world, never to be extinguished.

And why do we want to keep celebrating for twelve days? Because in some ways Tom Ehrich is right. The Christmas story is not a sweet, sentimental story. It has little to do with “pipers piping” or “drummers drumming.” It has little to do with when we take the tree down, or whether we make special Kings’ cakes for Epiphany. That’s because the Christmas story isn’t over when the shepherds joyfully leave the newborn baby in Luke’s story. Matthew’s version of the story of Jesus’ birth reminds us that the Christmas story is also a dark story, that Jesus was born into a world at least as dark as ours. You remember that Judea was under the thumb of the imperialist Romans. Worse, their puppet, Herod the Great, was the Saddam Hussein of his day, who clung to power by murdering his opponents, including his three sons. As we know from reading the rest of the second chapter of Matthew, after the eastern astrologers – for that’s what they were – left, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were forced to flee to Egypt. And Herod? Realizing that the astrologers had deceived him, he ordered the slaughter of all boys in Bethlehem younger than two.

And the feast of the Epiphany underscores for us that something fundamental has shifted in our dark world. In Jesus’ birth, God has begun to fulfill God’s promises. The eastern astrologers were most likely Arabs from either Arabia or the area we now call Iraq. They scanned the sky they knew so intimately and saw that something fundamental had changed. Gathering up their possessions, they began the long journey from the east, reaching Jerusalem when Jesus was a toddler. They must have been sure that the civil authorities in Jerusalem, the traditional seat of secular and religious power, were also aware of what God had done. And so they asked at Herod’s court for the location of the promised messiah. Then they took themselves to Bethlehem and offered their gifts: gold that identified the child as a king, incense to symbolize his priestly role, and myrrh to signify his death. Transformed by their encounter with the child, they headed home, careful not to divulge the holy family’s location.

And here’s the most important reason why we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany. The figures of the astrologers – who were gentiles – forcefully remind us that God’s promises extend to all people, not just to the Jews who first heard them. The promised light that has come into the world in Jesus is a light for all nations, not just for the chosen people. That is why the writer of the letter to the Ephesians, who was probably not Paul himself, could remind his readers, “The Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise of Christ Jesus through the gospel.” In this dark world, we too need to continue hearing that message: that God’s love extends to all, and that no one, because of class, gender, ethnicity, or any other category devised by humans, is separated from God’s love.

And where are we in this story? What’s our reaction to Tom Ehrich’s challenge? Do we toss out the wrappings, the trees, the poinsettias, and the decorations, and say to ourselves, “Done with that?” Do we say, “So sad, Christmas is over,” and go about business as usual? Or do we understand that we too are part of the story, that God also calls us to become wise people, to seek out the child, and to offer the child our own gifts?

The Mafa are a Christian community in Cameroon, in Africa. Some years ago, they heard today’s story of the eastern astrologers and decided to act out the story for themselves. Photographs were taken of their depiction, and then a painting of the action was created showing actual Mafa people in the various roles. The resulting painting is a wonderful reminder that all of us are part of the Epiphany story, that all of us have gifts to offer to Jesus.2

So is there a way of responding to the real needs of all of us who struggle to cope with tragedy, to all those who want real answers to hard questions? There is! Put yourself into the Mafa picture, or any picture of the Magi that you like. Remember that you like them, had a long journey filled with many questions to reach Jesus. Kneel down if you like and offer again your allegiance to him. Then open up your treasure chest and offer him your gifts. Offer him your money, your time, your gift of hospitality, your gift of organization, your gift of decoration, your gift of teaching – the world out there – and in here – needs them all. So here is my challenge to you this week. Take the Mafa picture home with you. Put it on your fridge or wherever you’ll see it. Pray with it this week. As you pray, ask God to show you what gifts you have to offer to Jesus. Sometime during this week, write down three gifts that you are ready to offer him. Then ask God to help you to use them.

Brightest and best of the stars of the morning
dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid;
star of the east, the horizon adorning,
guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.

1. Tom Ehrich, “Strong Message Needed,” Church Wellness, January 2, 2013.

2. Find the Mafa painting of the Visit of the Three Wise Men at http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/diglib-viewimage.pl?SID=20130106544525146&code=act&RC=48292&Row=&code=act&return=act