Times Square Is Podunk Hollow Compared to Bethlehem

And here we are. One more year. Almost as far as you can get from Christmas Day.

I hope your Christmas has been, and is being, filled with everything good. I’m quoting me to me here: “Christians who know the real meaning of the holy days should celebrate everything that is good about them—lights, trees, candles, songs, family, services, bells, friends, snow, sleds, presents, candy, laughter—with more joy than other people and not less. If we truly love Christ more than Christmas, then we’re free to love Christmas immensely and with a real freedom and genuine joy deeper than we could ever have otherwise. All that’s truly joyful and good is God’s. It would be nonsense to thank Santa for God; it may be very good sense indeed to thank God for Santa.”

Oh, I stand by that! My grandchildren have called me “the king of Christmas.” If they mean that no one enjoys it more than I do and is more intent on tasting the joy in every bit of its fruit, I joyfully plead guilty. But, of course, they know as well as I do that there is only one King of Christmas. And we might do well to notice that, as his early disciples figured out and as our little ones know instinctively already, if we’re really looking for Christ, he will be the one laughing with the children.

One of our family jokes is for a grandchild or two, after Christmas Day, to put on a fake frown and intone dolefully (about the time a few of their parents are considering bowing to the temptation to box up all the decorations early—oh, the shame of it!), “Christmas is over, Curtis!”

I beg to differ. And I like to think I have Christian history, dating back to A.D. 567 (look it up) on my side, regarding “the twelve days of Christmas.” History seems to indicate that a time of preparation, Advent, preceding the actual season and the celebration of Christ’s birth, was observed at least from about A.D. 480 [Wikipedia]. In any case, anything that honors the Lord and makes Christmas even more meaningful is fine with me. I want it all—the whole twelve days, “geese a’layin’” and “lords a’leapin’” not required, though they’re fun. (If you press me on the history and mention that Advent traditionally included some fasting, I might have to admit that I’m not a complete purist.)

Here, though, is a very practical point. We’re all tired after the main celebrations, but many of us who lead worship and help churches celebrate this beautiful time, as much as we love it, are truly “toast” pretty early in the days right after the Day. Yes, I’m still celebrating (“No, you sweet little folks, it’s not over!”), but it’s quieter now. And quietness is its own very real blessing.

I’ve tried to lead others in praise and reflection. Now for a few days, I’ll do my best to intentionally slow down more, drink in some stillness, and pause by the fire just to be and breathe and be grateful.

I know. The stillness won’t last. New Year’s sparklers and largely artificial joy are always a bit of a bump in my road. I am not, however, a complete New Year’s Grinch, and I’m truly thankful to be aboard to begin another year. Life is God’s sweet gift. But my hope is not in a new year and my impressive ability to steer my way through it. The only New Year’s resolution I’ve ever come close to keeping is the one I made decades ago about never making New Year’s resolutions.

If Christmas does what I’m sure God wants it to do in my soul, I’ll enter a new year buoyed by the hope of Bethlehem and the angelic proclamation that God is with us, Immanuel, and the Almighty has done and is still doing what we could never do and never even imagine.

That’s real hope, real because it centers completely on God and not at all on me. Sparklers are puny light compared to glory-fired angels. And Times Square will always be a backwater podunk anywhere in the same universe as Bethlehem.

You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

“The Light Shines in the Darkness”

Four candles. At church, we lit four candles this morning. I’m talking about Advent candles. One for each of the four Sundays before Christmas. And now, only the “Christ candle,” the large white one in the center of the Advent wreath, is left.

I didn’t grow up lighting candles at church. I do remember getting to light candles at a wedding in my hometown church once. My brother and I were pressed into service as candlelighters. Using real candle-lighters. We looked like altar boys in training. And I still think it was probably a mistake to let Jim loose with fire. But we lit a lot of candles, and I liked it.

I was taught many good things at that church that have blessed me all of my life, and I treasure many of the relationships, but I still think we were short on candles. I’ve been trying to rectify that for a number of years now.

I won’t go into the history, but, truth be told, I think we were a little wary of anything that was perhaps too beautiful. We were certainly wary of anything at all “ornate.” Were our Puritan roots partially responsible? I think so. Right along with the idea that what was not “authorized” in Scripture was forbidden (as if the New Testament were simply an update on the Old, a revised book of laws; as if the cross-bought new covenant itself were really just a revision of religious business as usual). “Silence” in Scripture, particularly regarding worship, was considered to be strictly prohibitive, instead of being an area of complete freedom.

It was no new fight, of course. I understand that the great reformers (and their followers), Martin Luther and Ulrich Zwingli, the former in Germany and the latter in Switzerland, disagreed over the same sorts of “issues.” Candles for Luther, but none for Zwingli. Organs for Luther, but not even congregational singing for Zwingli who found no authorization for it. Those two giants dealt with the “silence” of New Testament Scripture very differently.

It seems to me that the Apostle Paul would tell us that we need to make a decision we believe does not hinder the spread of the gospel or violate the law of love toward our brothers or our neighbors in any way, and proceed to worship, glorifying God. No fussing and no judging. “Your brother may disagree with you, but don’t you doubt for a moment that he will stand justified before God—for the very same reason you will” (Romans 14:4, my paraphrase).

But the far larger point, vastly larger than any externals, is also made incredibly strongly by the apostle. What an amazing chapter is 2 Corinthians (that “2” is pronounced “second,” by the way, and this hint is free for politicians) Corinthians 3 where he again contrasts (as if Romans and Galatians and more were not enough) trusting in a written code and the power of human effort, versus trusting completely in the Spirit and God’s “work” accomplished completely through Christ. Even as the apostle warns us, “the letter of the law kills,” he exults, “but the Spirit gives life.”

This is potent stuff! This is the gospel, the good news. It will bring freedom to our souls. It will light them up with joy! If it encourages us maybe to light a candle or two, or sing a song or two, or play a symphony, or dance in delight, or marvel in wonder, or bow in gratitude, or open our hearts for laughter in the very presence of the God of all joy, well, that’s just the beginning of eternal consequences. (Warning: It has also been known to cause religious folks of the toxic variety to start nailing together crosses for crucifixions.)

I’m not particular about the candles. They’re just one sweet tradition (and, look it up, the whole idea of Advent seems like a very good idea, and a “preparation” my heart seriously needs; funny how often we discover stuff someone else discovered centuries ago). I surely do like them. I just wish I could slow down the time between now (the four candles) and the lighting of His. I want to enjoy every moment. Bask in the anticipation. Enjoy the twinkle of every light. 

But I am serious about “the joy” and very particular indeed about our not missing this fact: When we celebrate Christ’s birth, the whole point is that God did it. We didn’t. And we never could. Salvation didn’t come from us. Never could. Never would. Never will.

We celebrate Christ’s coming at Bethlehem. Because. God. Did. It.

Wonder of wonders! The light has come! And the darkness will never overcome it.

You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

“What Then Can I Give Him?”

I’ve been enjoying reading Stephen Nissenbaum’s fine book The Battle for Christmas. Most Americans tend naturally to think that the Christmas traditions we share have been relatively unchanged for a very, very long time. Not so.

For example, when the Pilgrims arrived in North America on Mayflower and established Plymouth Colony in 1620, the last thing a child in that colony would expect around Christmas or New Year’s would be a gift or present of any sort. According to Nissenbaum’s rigorous research, the idea of giving gifts and presents during that time of year didn’t really take hold until the 1820s. But when it did, wow!

Early on, in the 1820s and 1830s, books, literary “annuals,” and “gift books,” collections of short stories and poetry, etc., became popular and increasingly ornate. Before long, they included “presentation plates,” opening pages in which the giver could inscribe his name, the name of the one to whom the gift was being given, and even the reason for the gift. “From _____ as a token of _____ to _____.” It might be “a token of” “his regard” or “friendship” or “affection” or whatever.

In this rather ingenious way, a book that was, though a rather expensive (and perhaps very expensive) extravagance, albeit mass-produced and very popular, became a personalized gift. It really was not at all a “one of a kind” gift, but the inscription transformed it into a “one of a kind” gift especially from me to thee.

Not surprisingly, Bibles also became very popular gifts. An incredible array of Bibles in sizes and editions with illustrations and “helps” such as maps and pronunciation keys, and much more, were available in myriad colors and bindings. Again, they were great gifts, mass- produced, to be sure, but also with the “presentation page” at the front to make them intensely personal gifts. Publishers were not slow to recognize both their popularity and marketing potential. According to Nissenbaum, Harpers Illuminated Bible, ornately illustrated and handsomely bound and gilt, earned for its publishers in “its first dozen years” the “staggering sum of $500,000” in retail sales.

And, of course, as gift-giving took firm hold and the holidays began to center increasingly on children, all sorts of toys and dolls and . . . began to fill stockings, and Santa Claus (or some variation of that spelling referring to the “jolly old elf”) became quite prominent. In fact, Clement Clarke Moore’s “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” known to most as “The Night Before Christmas” (1823) did more than any other single work to paint the holiday, and especially St. Nick, in our minds as we’ve pictured it ever since.

Nissenbaum follows the experiences of one particular family through several decades and includes quotations from the letters they wrote to each other or others during the holidays as gifts became an increasingly prominent feature of their celebration. He particularly notes the reactions of the children to the gifts.

We begin to see soon in the descriptions of their holidays and gifts some categories of gift-related problems that are as modern as tomorrow.

Various members of the family talk about how hard it is to “find the right present.” Some of the gifts ordered turn out to be “the wrong gift.” Some are “lost in the mail” or “don’t arrive on time.” Or so-and-so, it was discovered, “already has that.” Or “it was really not what was asked for.” Or the gift turns out to be “rather a useless trifle” or “what do you do with this?” Perhaps the toy breaks quickly. Maybe the size or color is wrong. And on the problems went. And on they still go.

One of my favorite songs to sing during the holidays features the lyrics of Christina Rossetti’s poem (1872), “In the Bleak Midwinter.” She takes the reader to the scene of Christ’s birth where “may have gathered,” she writes, “angels and archangels” and where “cherubim and seraphim thronged the air.” His mother Mary “worships the Beloved” with “a kiss.”

But “what shall I give Him,” she asks, “poor as I am?” What indeed can be given to the One all of Heaven cannot hold, “nor can earth sustain,” the One who will “reign” over all?

“If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. / If I were a wise man, I would do my part.” But “what then can I give Him”?

Her answer is still the best, and points to the only real gift that you and I can give to the One who has given us life and breath, joy and hope, and who sustains us and the entire universe every moment: “I will give my heart.”

You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.

“Presents Did Not Fly About as They Do Now”

In 1850, which was before she wrote her classic Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote a story for Christmas. One of her characters describes the difficulty of buying gifts, Christmas presents:

“‘Oh, dear! Christmas is coming in a fortnight, and I have got to think up presents for everybody! Dear me, it’s so tedious! Everybody has got everything that can be thought of.’”

She then recalls the early years of her life when “‘presents did not fly about as they do now.’” In fact, “‘the very idea of a present was so new.’” But now, she laments, “‘There are worlds of money wasted, at this time of year, in getting things that nobody wants, and nobody cares for after they are got.’”

These lines are quoted by Stephen Nissenbaum in his book, The Battle for Christmas. The “battle” has nothing to do with whether we wish each other a “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays.” It has everything to do with this noted historian writing “A Cultural History of America’s Most Cherished Holiday.” The book is incredibly well-researched, was a “Pulitzer Prize Finalist,” and is packed full of surprises regarding how America’s celebration of Christmas actually came to be what it is. (It’s interesting that America’s foremost scholar on the history of Christmas in America is Jewish, a fact he finds interesting, too.)

The reader probably already knows that the celebration of Christmas was not looked upon with favor, and was even outlawed at times, by Puritans in the New World. When you read his description of the history of mind-blowing rowdiness, party-crashing, uninvited “guests” showing up at the doors and inside the houses of folks from whom they demanded cakes and ale (“trick or treat” on steroids), you’ll have a bit more sympathy for the Puritans. I had no idea!

According to Nissenbaum, Harriet Beecher Stowe is on point when her character describes the kind of gift-buying and gift-giving conundrum we still face. The interesting thing is that, though we’ve faced exactly what she describes for generations, it was indeed a new thing in the early 19th-century. It was in the 1820s, the historian says, that buying presents for folks at Christmas actually became a very major part of the holiday in our country.

At one time, lords of manors in England invited their workers in to their masters’ homes during the holidays for food and drink. That “invitation” later devolved in New York, Philadelphia, Boston, etc., into the uninvited sort of thing described above. A time of making the rounds and visiting friends, eating and drinking, to excess or not, was also common.

But eventually, the celebrations became less centered in places and people outside the family unit and shifted focus to the family itself. The kids would receive some small presents (fruit, candy, and later, books, etc.). As was the case with the manor’s workers years before, around the holiday times, society’s tables turned topsy-turvy and kids, who occupied a place in the household on par perhaps with servants, were elevated in status during the holidays.

Nissenbaum catalogs it all. In the 1820s, gift-giving really ramped up. Stores, sales, advertising in the newspapers, and so on. Gifts for wives and the mothers of the household soon gained favor, and shopkeepers and publishers, etc., increasingly jumped on the bandwagon which gained, as you know, incredible mass and speed.

I think I’ve reported accurately here, but Nissenbaum’s book is worth a read.

My own history, I know much better. In my family, we pretty much always knew that Santa Claus was Dad. (Nissenbaum talks a lot about St. Nick’s origins.) On Christmas morning, we opened the gifts one at a time. Dad was Santa, and the unwritten rule was that each gift went through his hands to ours. One at a time.

Mom and Dad’s older kids went through sparser times (fruit, candy, clothes), but by the time my brother Jim and I came around, we usually got a special and much-wanted present or two, some much less expensive ones, and, not unusually, some stuff we needed and the family budget would be accommodating anyway—pajamas, socks, blue jeans, underwear, etc. We were far from poverty-stricken, but Mom and Dad were smart. Wrapped socks do constitute an actual present that can be added to the stash under the tree for Yuletide plenty.

One of the worst presents Jim and I ever gave Dad (it may have been a birthday, but I think it was Christmas) was a bottle of “Grecian Formula” guaranteed by its makers to slowly turn gray hair dark. We tried to scratch off the directions regarding hair color and just wanted to watch his surprise in the days ahead. Our trick didn’t work.

If my meanderings bring to mind the history of some of your own Christmases and gifts, I’m glad. But most of all, I hope my words (sparked by Nissenbaum’s great book) help you think a bit about the kind of gifts that really matter and that your loved ones really need. The most precious cost nothing at all but your love.

The history of how we celebrate Christmas is fascinating. But the real celebration centers on the best Gift of all.

You’re invited to visit my website at http://www.CurtisShelburne.com, and I hope you’ll take a look there at my new “Focus on Faith” Podcast. At the website, just click on “Podcast.” Blessings!

Copyright 2022 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.