So, this being the holiday season, I think it's incumbent on us to focus on the reason for the season...Santa Claus.
We here in America tend to focus on the fat guy, the jolly old elf. Thomas Nast captured him as a cartoon, and Coca-Cola made him famous. Every mall worth its salt has a Santa Claus and helpers for pictures, and the red and white suit are ubiquitous.
But he's not alone. There's of course, the original, St. Nicholas of Turkey, who was generous with the poor, left coins in socks, and apparently rescued prostitutes – sort of Santa as social worker.
Then there is Father Christmas, a huge, tall guy who shows up around the time of Henry VIII, and brought peace, joy, good food, wine, and revelry. He wore green fuzzy robes and showed up in A Christmas Carol, showing up as the Ghost of Christmas Present. This was Santa as the life of the party.
Of course it's not just the English folk. The Dutch, Swiss, French, and especially the Germans get into the act with their versions like Pere Noel and Sinterklass, not quite as fat but complete with sleighs and reindeer and such. But most important, they come with a dark side – assistants like Schmutzli, who carries a broom for spanking naughty kids and Krampus, who looks demonic and scares kids. While our Santa supposedly keeps a naughty list, there doesn't seem to be anyone on it if toy sales are anything to go by. But these Santas? They carry out the threat!
There are so many versions of this guy. Surely out of all of these versions, there is one that can strike anyone's fancy. A Santa that speaks to you. Your own personal Santa.
And don't like Santa? Well, there's Frosty...or Rudolph. Take a trip on the Polar Express or spend time with George Bailey in Bedford falls as an angel gets his wings.
But when it's all said and done, really, deep down, have any of these stories changed your life?
Today, our Gospel spends some time in a backwater area of a vast empire. And there's a guy out in the wilderness, shouting, 'Prepare ye the way of the Lord!”
As is always the case this time of year, we visit with John for two weeks during Advent season. And usually, I dive right into John, himself. But I started to wonder about the context of the world into which John and Jesus were born.
And fortunately, we get to spend the year with Luke’s Gospel, and, in the first two chapters, we are presented with the rich stories of Elizabeth and Zechariah learning of John’s unlikely birth. We hear about Zechariah’s disbelief at this news and of his resulting inability to speak for a season.
We hear that Mary of Nazareth receives a similar message from the angel Gabriel and we hear that her first impulse was to travel to her cousin, Elizabeth. We eavesdrop on their encounter, and then we are blessed to hear Mary’s song of praise. We hear that John is born and that Zechariah gets his voice back and uses it to gift us with powerful words of promise.
Then there are the stories of John's cousin, Jesus, being born, being named, and being presented in the temple, each step of the way, clearly being seen to be something different, something unique, something holy.
These are the stories which must have shaped John, his understanding of who he was and where he had come from as we meet him now. These stories surely must have shaped his ‘strength of spirit’ which lead to him living into the fullness of his own call as the one who came before the one sent from God.
These stories that dealt with real people (his very own relatives) in a real time (Luke mentions very real Romans) in a real land (the cradle of three great religions). Stories that drive John to change from the temple version of a preacher's kid to being a leader of a movement, from being a nobody to helping to change the world, to seeing the Son of God and being willing to die for him.
Stories that changed his life. And the lives of billions of people ever since.
These stories...the stories of John and his family, of his life and the life of his cousin. These stories, they changed the world in their truth. These stories that were not sweet and saccharine, making us feel fuzzy and warm. No. But stories of struggle against power, of justice for the poor, the widow, the orphan. Stories of living as Malachi says, in a refiner's fire, truly (and sometimes painfully) changing.
Stories that change our lives.
As we enter into this Advent season, I can't help but wonder how John would react to our stories of Santa...and Frosty...and Rudolph. All those stories that make absolutely no difference in our lives.
And I wonder what he would say about a country that freaks out every year about a War on Christmas while simultaneously ignoring the message of Christmas year-round? What would he say about prosperous middle-class white Christians who claim to be persecuted in a land filled with Christmas trees and Christmas ornaments and Christmas cards and Christmas presents while ignoring the prophet's call to “do right, seek justice, defend the oppressed”? I wonder what he would say, or rather shout?
Because the fruits we will bear the how we treat the least of those among us this Advent and the rest of the year will depend on just how faithfully we follow the stories that truly matter. To choose to follow the wrong story is nothing short of belittling the truly oppressed, and often, furthering their oppression. But to get it right, to get this right leads us to the true depth of our faith.
This year, as Santa and presents distract us and rage-inducing talking heads try to tell us what to get angry about, listen instead for the voices that are echoes of the cry of John. Because it’s there in their cries we’ll hear that still, small voice, the voice crying out in the wilderness, the voice preparing the way. And if we listen to those voices, if we listen to them, they won’t lead us to kings and princes and presidents. They’ll lead us straight to God.
And y'all, that will change our lives.