Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas?

The recent flap over Starbucks coffee cups seems like a good occasion to drag out my blog from almost exactly one year ago today. Just about then...

...I was reorganizing our entertainment center when we returned from nineteen months in Las Vegas. I found our collection of Christmas DVDs—movies, TV specials, concerts, etc.

The one on top was a copy of a 1955 Jo Stafford Album. The title song, “Happy Holiday,” was Irving Berlin’s 1942 classic that everybody loves. The second DVD was the 1942 Bing Crosby/Fred Astaire movie, “Holiday Inn,” in which that Irving Berlin classic was introduced. It’s a perennial favorite, along with “It’s a Good Life!”, “Miracle of 34^th Street,” “White Christmas” and—you can finish the list.

In the same box was our collection of Christmas cards dating back who knows how long. We keep them for decorations and gift wrapping. “Season’s Greetings,” is among the most common phrases on the covers of the several dozen cards in that stack.

Call me a “Christmas Freak.” I love just about everything about it, and in the last couple of years I’ve even been able to endure the crowds at the malls without uttering a single “Bah!” or “Humbug!” And the joyful anticipation doesn’t follow a calendar. For me it begins about the time the leaves start turning.

I think I love it because in my personal history it’s always been the “Most Wonderful Time of the Year”—with cousins and “Granny” either spending the holidays with us or us with them. I associate Christmas with family, presents, wonderful food, beautiful music, beautiful decorations and the beautiful story that holds it all together.

The story is paramount. No matter what else happens or doesn’t happen during Advent and the Twelve Days of Christmas that follow, I’m never distracted from the awareness of that beautiful story. It’s always with me, thanks to the foundation laid in my family—a foundation that included regular participation in the Body of Christ. No matter what symbol is displayed, or when or where, I am reminded that Christmas is about the birth of Jesus, and that through that birth, “God is with us!”

Apparently—and sadly—some are unable to avoid the distractions. Those same phrases that for over a half-century elicited happy smiles, warm feelings and even hugs have more recently become “fighting words” to some people.

A few years ago someone suggested that it would be more “inclusive” to use the phrase, “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”, to acknowledgment that not everyone is Christian and to demonstrate respect for their religious freedom—the same respect we expect and demand for our own religious freedom.

Religious freedom, like every other freedom, must be extended to all, or no one is free, for if freedom can be taken from one, it can be taken from all. Further, religious freedom includes the freedom from having others’ religious faiths inflicted upon us.

The intention was to find ways to include people of other faiths—or at least not to exclude them—in the public celebrations of Christian holidays. Nothing has ever been intended or suggested that would limit religious celebrations shared among family and friends and within specific communities of faith.

But the good old American autonomy that built this nation raises its head (unnecessarily in this case) and asserts, “Nobody’s gonna’ tell me what to do.”

I haven’t experienced the slightest infringement of any rights. I am free to say, “Merry Christmas” any time I choose, and as far as I know you are free to do the same. Nor do I feel anything has been forced upon me if others choose to say, “Happy Holidays” in deference to the religious freedom of those who don’t share their convictions. Indeed, I don’t feel “Happy Holidays” is a condescension at all. That phrase is still a “warm fuzzy” that triggers deep nostalgia and reminds me that Jesus was born.

At what point did “inclusiveness” become bad? At what point did inclusiveness become a liberal conspiracy to take away anyone’s right to say, “Merry Christmas?” At what point did respect for someone who is different from me become a concession to some evil plot to undermine truth? And at what point did the melting pot mentality[1] engraved on the Statue of Liberty morph into intolerance and disrespect for diversity?

As Christians, we are called to share of our faith; and there are effective ways, ineffective ways and counterproductive ways to do so. In the last third of the 20^th century we saw the counterproductive result when too many mainstream churches shied away from face-to-face witnessing at all.

On the other hand, in more recent years much of what is called witnessing is confrontational and does more harm than good. After all, Christianity is an invitational faith, not a coercive one. Jesus said, “If I am lifted up I will draw all people to me.” Too much of what is called witnessing today pushes people away.

So, I will continue to look for ways to make my witness effective, without trampling the rights and freedoms of those who don’t share it. And if my life is being lived such that others don’t know and respect me as a Christian unless I say, “Merry Christmas,” then my witness lacks integrity and credibility. And I have absolutely no need to inflict my faith vocabulary upon those with other faiths or no faith, and thereby run the risk of alienating them from any possibility of witnessing effectively to them in the future.

That leaves me with more than abundant opportunity within my family, my circle of friends and my community of faith—and in the yard decorations in front of my home—to say, “Merry Christmas!”

And that’s the way I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] Give me your tired, your poor, 

Your huddled masses, yearning to breath free, 
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, 
Send these, the homeless, tempest tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

~ Emma Lazarus

Trust is the Opposite of Certainty

We have seen that Jesus interpreted Scripture in the rabbinic spirit of faithful questioning motivated by love. We have noted that Jesus’ interpretation of Scripture was in direct contrast to that of the Pharisees and other religious leaders of his time, who read the Scriptures in a spirit of unquestioning obedience and were motivated by an obsession with correct doctrine. The Pharisees were concerned about who was “right” and who was “wrong,” and were determined to enforce their “right” understanding, even if such an effort required violence.

We have said that over the centuries the Church has tended not to follow the pattern of Jesus, but rather to follow the pattern of the Pharisees, striving to maintain orthodoxy and labeling those who disagree as heretics. The result has been a long history of various manifestations of the church enforcing their authority through violence or the threat of violence—all in God’s name.

The struggle to know what is “right” has replaced Grace as the foundation of faith. In far too many cases our trust is more in the correctness of our doctrine than in the Grace of God. Such an application of religious faith establishes an “us vs. them” mentality, which always leans toward an exclusionary witness and far too often is forcefully inflicted.

While the exclusionary witness establishes categories for judging who is acceptable and who is not, Jesus’ witness was to go out among the outcasts and the fringe people—to eat with them, to touch them and through loving inclusion to restore their lives to wholeness. Too often our approach has been to demand that those on the outside become “like us” before they can gain admission and acceptance. Our doctrine becomes "the way, the truth and the life."

We all read Scripture selectively, and justification can indeed be found for both approaches. They stand in direct contradiction within the Holy writ, and we choose one way or the other:

1.       The way the Pharisees chose: unquestioning obedience to what they had determined to be the “right” doctrine (Law), and enforcing that doctrine as the prerequisite of faithfulness—excluding (and sometimes punishing with violence or threat of violence) all who do not conform (including Jesus).

2.      The way Jesus chose: faithful questioning the violence in Scripture and bearing witness to unconditional love (Grace), including all humanity in a divine embrace of reconciliation and restoration. All humanity. And "All" means "All."

Our celebrated First Amendment rights which grant freedom of speech and religion actually came about in direct response to the church’s legacy of persecution and rampant bloodshed committed in the sincere (but sincerely wrong) effort to maintain purity of doctrine. As a result of those Constitutional rights, there are no more burnings at the stake today.

So, what is the greater wrong: not getting the formulation of the Trinity quite right, or slaughtering those who do get it wrong? What is the greater sin: questioning a doctrine or working to destroy people’s careers and livelihoods because they question it?

Equally important as what we profess is how we profess it and how we live what we profess. When we act in any way to harm others in the name of Scripture or faith or morality we demonstrate that we are neither scriptural, moral nor faithful. Jesus said the whole law and the prophetic writings were predicated upon love of God, love of neighbor and love of self (Matthew 22:36-40). And Paul wrote, “Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law” (Romans 13:10) When we do not act in love, nothing we do is right, and nothing is faithful, not even according to the law.

The simple formula of the New Testament witness is “Grace Trumps Law.” It’s simple; but it’s not easy. It requires that we “let go” of our efforts to justify ourselves through adherence to “right” doctrine, and that we instead “take hold” of the Grace God offers and surrender to the power of that Grace to mold us into the likeness of Jesus. That whole process of “letting go” and “taking hold” is called “Trust.” Trust is the opposite of certainty, and certainty is a first cousin of control.

And we are a culture of control addicts. Maybe we need a 12-Step program to facilitate recovery. “Hello. My name is Jim; and I’m a controlaholic.”

That’s the way I see it through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

Certainty vs. Trust

The longer I live the more I realize that faith has more to do with trust than with certainty.

I grew up in the years during and immediately following World War II when, as with most American families, church was the center of our life: Sunday morning and evening and Wednesday evening, and I was active in the “Royal Ambassadors”—a wonderful kind of faith-based