A CHRISTMAS MEDITATION
(From one who does not believe in Christmas)

Back in 1952, my first year as an editor, I wrote an article in Bible Talk on “How About Christmas?” I am impressed in re-reading it after all these years that there is so much of it with which I still agree. But 18 years have a mellowing effect on any man, certainly an editor, and so I readily concede that I would not write the same way about Christmas now as I did then. And yet I would be hard pressed to refute the position taken in the 1952 editorial. I would only say it is a bit too unyielding, somewhat too strait-laced. Anyway, I have waited almost two decades for my second editorial about Christmas, which should be evidence enough that I have no ax to grind. I am rather eager to see what I come up with after all these years!

I started the 1952 piece by pointing out that Christmas has always been a controversial holiday among Christians. As early as the fourth century Chrysostrom wrote of Christmas: “The day is everywhere a matter for discussion; for some accuse it of being a new feast, while others contend that it is old and original.” In tracing its history I found no indication of any kind of Christmas celebration until well into the fourth century. I took the church fathers, from Polycarp to Tertullian, and found no reference to Christmas.

I concluded that the fourth century Christians borrowed the idea from pagan Rome, patterning a Christ mass after the festival celebrating the rebirth of the sun, called the Saturnalia. This pagan rite was remarkably similar to what we now know as Christmas. The Saturnalia had its special hymns, not too different from our carols, one Christmas carol of old England corresponding exactly to a hymn to Saturn, the sun god. It emphasized giving gifts to children and had its “festival of infants.” Saturnalia was for children! It also had its candles and evergreen trees, fitted out with lights and decorations. The time of year was the same, the Saturnalia extending from Dec. 22 to about Jan. 1. I do not know if the pagans sang, “On the twelfth day of Saturnalia my true love came to me,” but it did last 12 days and was a time of riotous and sensual behavior. The pope fixed December 25 as Jesus’ birthday, relying upon a date in Josephus for the time of Elizabeth’s conception (during the feast of Tabernacles which Josephus dates) and from there to Mary’s. While that is a risky route to take to Dec. 25, the date is probably as good as any, if indeed we are to celebrate our Lord’s birthday.

I observed in the 1952 article that Christmas-minded Christians back in those early centuries were criticized by some church leaders as pagans and sun worshippers, and how historians marvel that Luther did not junk Christmas along with the rest of the pagan practices that he rejected in his reformatory efforts. Christ Mass is after the pagan Saturnalia as much as the candles, holy water, icons, papal homage (including kissing the toe), vestments, etc. are after pagan temple rites.

So my conclusion back in 1952 was completely unambiguous. While I did not propose to settle the question for others relative to trees and cards, exchanging gifts and celebrating the Mass for Christ, I was unequivocal about my own position. “I do not care to practice paganism and thus be a pagan, so I have nothing to do with Christmas,” I wrote.

I also wrote, by way of explaining that Luther was unable to stop something that had such a sentimental value: “For example, just try to get members of the church of Christ to ignore our pagan Christmas, irrespective of Paul’s warning: ‘You observe days, and months, and seasons, and years! I’m afraid I have labored over you in vain: (Gal. 4:10-11).”

I was careful in those days to use the small “c” in referring to the Church of Christ. I am now just as diligent in avoiding it. But I would not apply Gal. 4 in that way now, for I rather think Paul is condemning the observance of holidays for the sake of justification. Yet it is true that Christianity has neither holy days nor holy places, a sobering fact to keep in mind as we evaluate Christmas in the life of a Christian.

One point that I did not raise then that I do raise now is whether Christians may not beat the world at its own game and thus “Christianize” what is admitted to be pagan in origin. Rather than condemning the state fair as worldly, invade it in Jesus’ name and set up booths for the distribution of gospel literature. And if the pagans have a celebration like the Saturnalia, something with cultural and emotional value, take it into captivity for Christ and use it to his glory. Radio, TV, the newspapers, cinema, the universities, libraries, museums, and all the rest may be pagan and secular. Let us then storm such cultural citadels and claim them for him who is Master of all culture. That too is scriptural: “We take every thought captive and make it obey Christ.” (2 Cor. 10:5)

So it could be argued that the Christians who adapted the Saturnalia to a birthday celebration for Jesus, moving from the sun god to the Son of God, did just what Christians should be doing all along. To the pagans of Rome the Christians might have been saying: “Jesus can use your Saturnalia since it is so dear to the people. It shall henceforth be in honor of his birth rather than that of the sun god.”

It is, after all, a bit farfetched to accuse modern Christians of worshipping the sun god when they erect an evergreen and place gifts of love under it. Our brethren surely aren’t pagan when they send greeting cards or wish people a Merry Christmas. They could reply that they don’t give a hang about its origin, but for its meaning to them and their family.

I don’t know what I would have said to this back in 1952 had someone made such observations, but I now find them rather persuasive. I am now more concerned with the spirit than the letter, with what lies deep inside a man more than with the paraphernalia of context. Just as I rejoice over what sanity I find in our insane world, I am pleased even with faint responses to the Christ in a world that murdered him. Despite all its commercialism there is something about Christmas that should not pass from our culture. Even though it is as pagan in origin as I described it as being in my 1952 article, a thesis that can hardly be questioned, it can still be adapted to the glory of God by creating a greater awareness of Jesus in a world that has far too few reminders. If Christmas does no more than make people a little more conscious of that hymn of angels about “Peace on earth and good will towards men,” it is enough to cause me to spend my time on subjects other than those that tie Christmas to the pagan Saturnalia. I could as well complain about Sunday and June being names of Roman deities and go off in search of a non-pagan calendar. I have become a realist in my golden years!

Eighteen years have not only made me wiser and mellower but a father as well. Three orphans from different parts of the world have come to live with us, and they wear my name. I am to them a father and they are to me sons and a daughter. Convinced somewhat now that “Saturnalia is for children,” Ouida and I always give them a good Christmas, including an evergreen, lights, presents. Not yet convinced that we should lie even for the sake of adaptation, we have not followed the Santa Claus bit. I don’t like saints, not even Saint Claus, who certainly competes with Christ as a man of wonder. But that has made no difference to our kids, for they could not care less who Santa is, so long as he delivers!

So for a long time now I have joined other concerned Christians in viewing Christmas in terms of what it should mean to the world. Jesus grows dearer to me as I grow older, and I am eager for others to know him and love him and to draw strength from his grace. If the Christmas message means that Jesus has come into the world to give man wholeness, then let us do all we can to help the message get across. God gave the world a baby. His coming meant health, forgiveness, and peace to aching bodies and distressed minds to those whose lives he touched. Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He lives now as well as then, and his touch of love can mean as much to any man today as it did to those in ancient Galilee.

When Christmas comes to my home town of Denton, Texas, now made famous by Miss America as well as Restoration Review, with its gala celebrations and homecomings, along with dancing lights of many colors, one may hope that Christ is “at our gates” as with Bethany of yesteryear. The glowing fires and songs of love in a thousand homes would suggest that he is at least at the door of those who speak and sing of him.

The sad fact remains that even though he was such a blessing to the world there were cities like Denton and homes like ours that did not welcome him even when he was “at the gates.” Perhaps the people of Bethlehem could not be blamed, but it was an omen of things to come when there was no place for him in the inn. Nazareth was his boyhood home, but once he returned after commencing his prophetic mission, his fellow citizens thrust him from the city, threatening to kill him. He probably did more of his work in Capernaum than any other city, but its people treated him only with contempt and indifference, causing him to say of them: “It shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment than for you.”

One would suppose any city would be pleased to have Jesus at its gates and to welcome him entrance. All cities rejoice over the visit of a king or president. I was in Dallas recently for President Nixon’s visit, and it was with difficulty that I even saw him so great were the crowds. No seats were available to hear him in the same area where President Kennedy was to have spoken on that fateful November day, and I was 30 minutes early.

But he who is king over all kings was rejected by the cities of his day. There was Gadara where he cured the man named Legion, who was a demoniac. The people begged him to leave their borders. They did not want any trouble. Then there is Jerusalem, the city for which he wept. There he was scourged, imprisoned, and crucified.

Bethany is different in a way. There was Mary and Martha at least who went out to meet him “at the gates” and welcomed him to town, to their home. It was a passionate plea from a bereaved home that brought Jesus to the gates of Bethany on this occasion. He is no less concerned for breaking hearts and despondent homes in Denton, Texas today. But at Bethany he waited at the gates. It takes little imagination to see Jesus at the outskirts of any of our cities, especially at Christmas time, but the gnawing question remains as to whether he is really wanted in our streets and in our homes. Even at Bethany, where they witnessed the raising of Lazareth from the dead, there were those treacherous ones who hurried to the Pharisees to devise evil against him.

Christmas will soon be here again, and we will be wishing each other the old wish that it might be merry and bright. It could well be just that if Jesus is even so near as at our gates. We may never grasp the full meaning of the Christmas message, but surely it means that Jesus makes an important difference in our lives. Denton is indeed blessed, as is every city, if we have those who will go out to meet the Lord, like Mary and Martha, and welcome him to our city. The full gladness of Christmas will be ours when he is inside our celebrations, inside our rejoicing, inside our hearts, and not just at the gates.

Merry Saturnalia and a Happy New Year!—the Editor