Like a glass ornament falling from the Christmas tree to the hard plank floor below, our cultural Christmas traditions have shattered into a thousand pieces. We will never put them back together again. But as we sort through the colored shards scattered below the tree and under the furniture, we recognize parts of the design.
Of course, our Christmases have long been split between sacred and secular celebrations, the commercial and familial, the sentimental and recently the political.
I am not much of a partisan in the Christmas wars; I don’t insist that the clerk at the post office wish me a Merry Christmas instead of happy holidays. I am not inclined to think of an army of heavenly host appearing to the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night made up entirely of pudgy cherubs, but that’s okay. I am completely fine with the Magi showing up at the cattle stall, though the image (both the cattle stall and the Magi at it) is not scripturally warranted. I love Luther’s lullaby even if the little Lord Jesus made a lot of crying.
On the more secular side, I still tell our grandkids that I believe in Santa Claus though every one of them is now a non-believer and mocks my naiveté. I am not sure why Jimmy Stewart and the people of Bedford Falls sing “Auld Lang Syne” on Christmas Eve, but, yes, it’s a wonderful life. Continue reading




