In the United Methodist Church there is a concept called "connectionalism." The idea is that every congregation is connected to each other -- not just as part of the same denomination, or even in a broadly Christian kind of way, but in a deeper way. It harkens back, in some ways to the circuit rider days on the American frontier (when ordained ministers were in short supply, but congregations were springing up in every new community it seemed). It also has deeper, Biblical roots (see I Corinthians 12:12, where St. Paul compares the human body to the church/body of Christ).
I thought about this today because, for a variety of reasons, in the past five years, we as a family have attended Christmas Eve services at five different Methodist churches. For our part, it isn't because we've moved five times in five years, or indulged in something I talk about in The Mainline (church shopping), or had a falling out with minister or congregations, or anything like that. It is just how it worked out. One year was at our current home church, one year it was because we were visiting relatives out of town, one year we went back to the church we were married in, and twice it was because friends or family had invited us to worship with them. All five of those services were fine in their own right, and all added to our family's preparation for celebrating Christmas.
The reason I bring it up on Christmas Eve, is that even within a denomination so devoted (on some level) to this concept of connection, there can be division. At this time of year, we don't want to dwell on such things of course. We should want to focus on those things that bind us together in that connection, not that which divides us (even if those issues aren't likely to go away and are very important ones to discuss). Interestingly enough, one of the other common things that connects my personal Christmas Eves of the recent past (and for several years beyond the last five actually) has been watching the Christmas Mass from St. Peter's Basilica. This year, was Pope Francis's first, and Time magazine's "Person of the Year" did not disappoint.
And maybe there is something to all that. Maybe if Christians listened to the Church's various branches (whether Protestant or Catholic, connected within the same denomination or not), it would act more and more like the Body of Christ. Maybe that would make us more willing to speak out on behalf of our fellow Christians who aren't just seeing some form of secularism or cultural apathetic persecution, but actual life and death persecution. And perhaps, on a night like tonight, if we aren't able to listen to each other, perhaps we'll listen (in good Methodist fashion) to the angels:
Hark! The herald angels sing,
“Glory to the newborn King;
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!”
Joyful, all ye nations rise,
Join the triumph of the skies;
With th’angelic host proclaim,
“Christ is born in Bethlehem!”
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Monday, December 23, 2013
This Holy Tide of Christmas
A few years ago I watched "A Christmas Carol" starring Patrick Stewart for the first time. I knew the story of Scrooge of course--thanks to Disney's version with Scrooge McDuck when I was younger and then having read Charles Dickens tale myself when I was older. And as great a job as Stewart did in the role, it wasn't his portrayal that stuck with me. Rather, perhaps for the first time, I was introduced to the hymn, "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."
Now, I'd probably heard and sung that hymn before first watching and hearing it on television. But it was the first time I'd really paid attention to what the song was saying. You can read the words for yourself here. What caught my attention that night, and what has stuck with me since are the lines:
To save us all from Satan’s power,
When we were gone astray.
Here, in twelve words or less, was the summation of the Christian message--that God so loved the world, a world He had created, a world that had fallen, that He had devised a means to save us. This is the story of why Christians believe Christmas had to happened, all presented in song form.
To sing those words, to believe them, is to be reminded not only of God's love, but also that sin is a very real part of the world we live in--and in order for us to be reconciled to God, we must be redeemed. Indeed, what else should we expect from a holy God--one who can not abide sin, but loves sinners enough to do something about it? We might debate what constitutes a sin, whether there is a hierarchy of sins, even the role culture plays in helping us determine sins (see all of this, and more -- including politics, television contracts and the like in the recent "Duck Dynasty" controversy). But Christians should be able to agree that sin is real. That it keeps us from God. But that God devised a means to take away its eternal sting. This then, is the story of Christmas. As the hymn relates:
This holy tide of Christmas,
Doth bring redeeming grace.
May that grace, that peace, be with you and yours this holiday season.
Now, I'd probably heard and sung that hymn before first watching and hearing it on television. But it was the first time I'd really paid attention to what the song was saying. You can read the words for yourself here. What caught my attention that night, and what has stuck with me since are the lines:
To save us all from Satan’s power,
When we were gone astray.
Here, in twelve words or less, was the summation of the Christian message--that God so loved the world, a world He had created, a world that had fallen, that He had devised a means to save us. This is the story of why Christians believe Christmas had to happened, all presented in song form.
To sing those words, to believe them, is to be reminded not only of God's love, but also that sin is a very real part of the world we live in--and in order for us to be reconciled to God, we must be redeemed. Indeed, what else should we expect from a holy God--one who can not abide sin, but loves sinners enough to do something about it? We might debate what constitutes a sin, whether there is a hierarchy of sins, even the role culture plays in helping us determine sins (see all of this, and more -- including politics, television contracts and the like in the recent "Duck Dynasty" controversy). But Christians should be able to agree that sin is real. That it keeps us from God. But that God devised a means to take away its eternal sting. This then, is the story of Christmas. As the hymn relates:
This holy tide of Christmas,
Doth bring redeeming grace.
May that grace, that peace, be with you and yours this holiday season.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
From Saint Nicholas to Santa Claus to S-A-T-A-N!?!
On this third Sunday of Advent, I found in my Facebook feed a posting from a friend about the sermon he was listening to at his church. The pastor had just made a reference to "Satan Claus," which my friend thought was funny (which in turn prompted his wife to roll her eyes, per his comments). Now, I don't know what else the pastor in question said, or even what the sermon was about (I'll take a guess that secularization of the holiday may have been a theme), but it did get me thinking a bit about how some Christians have declared a war on Santa (and in the process forgotten about the man who inspired the myth, Saint Nicholas).
If you don't know anything about Saint Nicholas, you should. Though there is some dispute about all the details of his life's work, he is widely acknowledged to have been the Bishop of Myra during the 300s. He was known to give gifts (foreshadowing the eventual Santa Claus of course), but was perhaps known during his own time (and in perhaps the biggest gift to orthodox Christianity) for his staunch opposition to the Arian heresy (which cast doubt on the divinity of Jesus Christ) -- including slapping Arius himself in the face at the Council of Nicea!
For a fairly detailed account, read this or this. For a more humorous take (though with some crude language, so be warned), read this. But by all accounts, he was a no none sense defender of the faith, and very much worthy of being celebrated (and hardly surprising that his real exploits might take on the stuff of legends in their own rights).
So, how did Saint Nicholas become Santa Claus? As those first two articles point out, one of the most popular saints in both the Eastern and Western churches got transformed by the Reformation. Protestants, starting perhaps, with Martin Luther, who wanted to focus Christians away from venerating saints, cast aside St. Nicholas in favor of having Christian parents talk about the Christ Child. The Christkindl of Protestant Germany found its way to the United States, where it became "translated" (we'll use that term loosely) as "Chris Kringle." The next step to Santa then came with Episcopalian Clement Moore's "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" (you can read more about him and the poem here) in 1822, followed by Thomas Nast (himself of German Protestant extraction) creating a visual image in 1863 that can now be found (and copied) virtually anywhere today.
Christians have enough to worry about in this day and age I think, than whether to welcome Santa down their chimney. While I don't believe that Christianity in America is persecuted in the same way that say Christians in Syria are, nor that even this season's round of atheistic actions (see here for more on the "who needs Christ to celebrate Christmas" campaign -- which should prompt, I'd hope, at least some head scratching on the part of those who claim to be so well educated about how that realistically is supposed to work), harken the end of the faith in the United States, I really don't think Santa is to blame, or even a real worry. If you don't want to talk about Santa, fine. But you are going to be hard pressed to shield your eyes (or the eyes and imaginations of your children from it). And no, even with secularization, Santa doesn't mean "S-A-T-A-N", no matter what the Church Lady might tell you! By all means, focus on the Nativity, but maybe also talk a bit about the man who inspired the story to begin with. It couldn't hurt and it is probably better for all of us than devoting more time to real danger to Christmas: the Elf on a Shelf!
If you don't know anything about Saint Nicholas, you should. Though there is some dispute about all the details of his life's work, he is widely acknowledged to have been the Bishop of Myra during the 300s. He was known to give gifts (foreshadowing the eventual Santa Claus of course), but was perhaps known during his own time (and in perhaps the biggest gift to orthodox Christianity) for his staunch opposition to the Arian heresy (which cast doubt on the divinity of Jesus Christ) -- including slapping Arius himself in the face at the Council of Nicea!
For a fairly detailed account, read this or this. For a more humorous take (though with some crude language, so be warned), read this. But by all accounts, he was a no none sense defender of the faith, and very much worthy of being celebrated (and hardly surprising that his real exploits might take on the stuff of legends in their own rights).
So, how did Saint Nicholas become Santa Claus? As those first two articles point out, one of the most popular saints in both the Eastern and Western churches got transformed by the Reformation. Protestants, starting perhaps, with Martin Luther, who wanted to focus Christians away from venerating saints, cast aside St. Nicholas in favor of having Christian parents talk about the Christ Child. The Christkindl of Protestant Germany found its way to the United States, where it became "translated" (we'll use that term loosely) as "Chris Kringle." The next step to Santa then came with Episcopalian Clement Moore's "A Visit from Saint Nicholas" (you can read more about him and the poem here) in 1822, followed by Thomas Nast (himself of German Protestant extraction) creating a visual image in 1863 that can now be found (and copied) virtually anywhere today.
Christians have enough to worry about in this day and age I think, than whether to welcome Santa down their chimney. While I don't believe that Christianity in America is persecuted in the same way that say Christians in Syria are, nor that even this season's round of atheistic actions (see here for more on the "who needs Christ to celebrate Christmas" campaign -- which should prompt, I'd hope, at least some head scratching on the part of those who claim to be so well educated about how that realistically is supposed to work), harken the end of the faith in the United States, I really don't think Santa is to blame, or even a real worry. If you don't want to talk about Santa, fine. But you are going to be hard pressed to shield your eyes (or the eyes and imaginations of your children from it). And no, even with secularization, Santa doesn't mean "S-A-T-A-N", no matter what the Church Lady might tell you! By all means, focus on the Nativity, but maybe also talk a bit about the man who inspired the story to begin with. It couldn't hurt and it is probably better for all of us than devoting more time to real danger to Christmas: the Elf on a Shelf!
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Nutcracker Theology
Yesterday, my family enjoyed attending a performance of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker at Butler University. This is the fifth year in a row all of us have gone and it has become one of the "kick off" events for us when it comes to getting ready to celebrate Christmas. It is always a fun time, made even more special for me because I get to see several of my students each year take part in the performance (including this year, the Mouse Queen herself!) and as part of the orchestra.
But the performance we watched on got me thinking a bit about the theological implications of the ballet. Now, I'm not going to assert that Tchaikovsky was a "secret theologian," nor that there is a whole bunch of hidden, symbolic meaning (implied or even unconsciously presented because of cultural norms) akin to what some literary and film critics do. Rather, it simply struck me while watching the performance this is a story set at Christmas whose story in many ways is a tale of good triumphing over evil, and the celebration of beauty that comes about because of that victory. That may or may not seem very much like the Christmas sermons some of you heard today on this second Sunday of Advent (though if you want to read a really good one, might I suggest this message by the Rev. William Willimon), but to me it gets in a very artistic way shall we say, at the heart of the Christian message, the Gospel's Good News, which the Church proclaims this time of year.
Of course part of my epiphany may have been because of this article, which details recent comments by Bill Gates on charitable giving. As the author (Terry Teachout) of that post notes, Gates criticized some of his wealthy peers for giving money to art museums and the like, when that money could be donated to medical research or foundations (like Gates's own) that fund such research and programs that combat diseases and ailments. While there, much to ponder in what Gates said and implied (and what has been implied with his comments), I thought that Teachout struck exactly the right chord by noting in the last line of his post that "Of course it's admirable to help prevent blindness—but it's also admirable to help ensure that we have beautiful things to see."
Yesterday, in Butler's production of The Nutcracker I got to sit alongside my children and see a beautiful performance. And in light of what Teachout had to say, let me add that the baby of Bethlehem (the one right now depicted all over the world in a manger) grew up, the Bible says, to both heal the sick he encountered and save us all from our sins (Matthew 1:21). One action need not be divorced from the other, and both in their own way can be good things to be cherished.
But the performance we watched on got me thinking a bit about the theological implications of the ballet. Now, I'm not going to assert that Tchaikovsky was a "secret theologian," nor that there is a whole bunch of hidden, symbolic meaning (implied or even unconsciously presented because of cultural norms) akin to what some literary and film critics do. Rather, it simply struck me while watching the performance this is a story set at Christmas whose story in many ways is a tale of good triumphing over evil, and the celebration of beauty that comes about because of that victory. That may or may not seem very much like the Christmas sermons some of you heard today on this second Sunday of Advent (though if you want to read a really good one, might I suggest this message by the Rev. William Willimon), but to me it gets in a very artistic way shall we say, at the heart of the Christian message, the Gospel's Good News, which the Church proclaims this time of year.
Of course part of my epiphany may have been because of this article, which details recent comments by Bill Gates on charitable giving. As the author (Terry Teachout) of that post notes, Gates criticized some of his wealthy peers for giving money to art museums and the like, when that money could be donated to medical research or foundations (like Gates's own) that fund such research and programs that combat diseases and ailments. While there, much to ponder in what Gates said and implied (and what has been implied with his comments), I thought that Teachout struck exactly the right chord by noting in the last line of his post that "Of course it's admirable to help prevent blindness—but it's also admirable to help ensure that we have beautiful things to see."
Yesterday, in Butler's production of The Nutcracker I got to sit alongside my children and see a beautiful performance. And in light of what Teachout had to say, let me add that the baby of Bethlehem (the one right now depicted all over the world in a manger) grew up, the Bible says, to both heal the sick he encountered and save us all from our sins (Matthew 1:21). One action need not be divorced from the other, and both in their own way can be good things to be cherished.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)