The Spectacle of Christmas

By Jim Holland (written December 2013)Brian Henson and I were putting up banners last week for the Collierville Christmas Parade. It was a good Presbyterian day to do such things—miserable. It was raining; I had to put my truck in four-wheel drive to not mar up the land. We both had on rain gear and boots; everything was wet, and the wild was blowing so hard you could hardly hold on to the sign.So there we are on the busiest intersection in Collierville, looking like drowned rats with t-posts, banners, and a post driver laughing maniacally. Brian said, “This is a spectacle! Look at all those people watching us; they must think we are crazy.” This lead to more maniacal laughter as Brian proceeded to create a whole theology of the “spectacle,” and further commented that, “People love to see a spectacle; in fact, God is the God of the spectacle. Jesus created spectacle after spectacle. In fact, his arrival and his departure were perhaps the biggest spectacles in history.” A virgin birth and a resurrection—you don’t get any more spectacular than that.The irony of this is that, while modern people find these two events the most difficult things about Christianity to believe, they really happened in quiet out of the way places, and very few people actually knew anything of cosmic significance was happening.  And yet, now the most celebrated day of the year in America, and in our culture, is Christmas.Interestingly enough, what modern people have done to this outrageous party is to remove the most spectacular aspect of Christmas—the virgin birth! How do you keep the party going and the celebration alive if you make it palatable, if you remove the thing that makes it so extraordinary? The problem with the modern world, as G.K. Chesterton pointed out years ago, is that when you remove the supernatural, you are not really left with much to celebrate. The world seems tired and old if you have no hope that God might show up at any minute. If Christmas is just an elaborate time of feasting because we tell a sentimental story on the order of Aesop’s Fables, where is the glory in that? It is because the Incarnation of God is such a singular, outrageous, momentous event that believers deemed it a time of deep celebration and merriment!It is interesting to me that for centuries, God used a calendar laden with feasts to burn his gracious and generous nature into his ancient people, Israel. Think about that for a minute. During any year, the primary way parents taught their children about God was through various feasts that celebrated something that God had graciously done for his people. Several times a year, a child would anticipate a table groaning from all the special food laid out. They would look forward to a ritual that was familiar, the retelling of stories that were known and that they had heard before, but were somehow fresh after being away from them for a whole year. And at the center of each of these feasts was how God entered and changed history because he loved his people and went to great lengths to redeem them. At the heart of these celebrations was a deep sense of joy. What got me thinking about this was a quote Brian sent me a few days before my birthday a couple of weeks ago. I suppose what made him send it to me was that we had been talking about the feast of my birthday. Anyway, the quote he sent me was simple, but so profound: “For the Jew, their calendar was their catechism.”  I can’t stop thinking about that. For the average modern person, we sort of teach with slogans and propositions. I get that. But if really want to find out what moves and motivates people, look at what they celebrate. You know what is important to people by their celebration. I suppose you also know what you are passing on to your children as well. I think the most important things in life that we want to pass on to our children are more caught than taught. A child picks up on whether or not there is a wild joy at our celebrations. Likewise, they know if it is forced.Anyone can hallow a day and cook some good food. That is not a feast. A feast is never about you, the one who puts it on. A feast is a celebration that acknowledges the presence and work of the divine. It is approached paradoxically. By that, I mean that one comes to a true feast with no pretense, because we’re not the center of attention; it isn’t about impressing anyone. But on the other hand, it is also somewhat of a spectacle. I mean, we want it to be elaborate, don’t we? If sometimes we go overboard, perhaps it is not to impress, but to serve. We want everything to be just right. I so sympathize with Clark W. Griswald in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. I feel his pain as he puts on this elaborate Christmas for his family. It is not really a desire to impress anyone that moves him; he is just trying to serve those he loves in his family.  You know he is deep in this paradox, because even when his elaborate plan all goes to pot, in humility, he is just glad to have the opportunity to serve his dysfunctional family and show them a great time.The Feast of the Nativity is, for this reason, something to approach the same way. We come to this feast with utter humility. We are summoned here by the doings of another, and at his expense. We are beggars at this feast. Through nothing good in us, God invites us to celebrate with him. So this year I don’t think I will tone it down any at all. I think our feast will be a spectacle. Not out of any pretence or show, but because when you think about the whole idea of God coming to us in utter denial of himself and utter self-giving, you want to celebrate. When you think that Jesus went through all he did just to give us a seat at his table, well, I think that out of deep joy and gratitude at the generosity of God, we will feast as never before. My kids will laugh at me, my wife will roll her eyes, and it will all somehow go haywire, but the laughter will be rich, strangers will be welcomed, the food and drink will be memorable, and Jesus will be made much of!