Tuesday, December 28, 2010

A "brief" pondering about Christmas

Last week I was pondering the common themes of Christmas. On one hand you have the baby in a manger representing the Christian perspective of what Christmas is all about. On the other hand you have Santa Claus, which has become the commercialized symbol of Christmas. There is a steady debate among the Christian community as to whether Santa Claus belongs in Christmas at all, and if he does, the question arises, "How do you reconcile Santa Claus and Christ?" I'm a fairly big blog reader when I have time and I came across this article by Mark Driscoll about what they tell their kids about Santa. In brief, they talk to their kids about who St. Nicholas really was and help them decipher between what is real and what is imaginary and allow them to enjoy it all. To give a little background on Saint Nicholas (from the article):

"Nicholas was born in the third century in Patara, a village in what is now Turkey. He was born into an affluent family, but his parents died tragically when he was quite young. His parents had raised him to be a devout Christian, which led him to spend his great inheritance on helping the poor, especially children. He was known to frequently give gifts to children, sometimes even hanging socks filled with treats and presents. Perhaps his most famous act of kindness was helping three sisters. Because their family was too poor to pay for their wedding dowry, three young Christian women were facing a life of prostitution until Nicholas paid their dowry, thereby saving them from a horrible life of sexual slavery."

Where people land on this issue is totally a matter of personal choice and conscience - that's not really where I'm going with all of this. As I pondered the two "symbols" of Christmas, I started thinking about if I was Saint Nicholas. I spend my life striving to live for Christ - my redeemer. I pour all that I have into helping those in need because, after all, Christ said, "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me," (Matthew 33:40). I am known as a follower of Jesus Christ, the Christ who hung on a cross to die and then rose again only a couple hundred years before I lived. I worshiped the one true King and spent my life serving him, so much so that I was canonized as a saint. What would my reaction be if I knew that a few thousand years later, I would become the secular symbol of Christmas? That I would be viewed as the "alternative" symbol for Christ at Christmas time. If I knew that children would be worshiping (or at least focusing) on me at Christmas time instead of the Christ that I was focused on all of my life. How devastated would I be if I knew that somehow I had become a figure that diverted the focus away from Christ, my Savior?

I can only imagine his devastation if he knew how his image had been distorted, to know that he was being used as a distraction rather than a means to glorify the Savior he worshiped. If I were him, I think I would fall down weeping and through my tears proclaim, "Why are you all looking at me, a mere sinner? Why aren't you looking at our Savior, the one who redeemed us, the true gift-giver. He is the one who can redeem our souls and give us the gift of eternal saving grace? What are my measly gifts in comparison to that? Stop looking at me - look at HIM!"

Who knows what he would really be thinking, but I can't imagine he would be proud or thankful of how we have chosen to honor his life. I started thinking about how I would want to be remembered and what I would want people to say about me. I long to be known as a servant of Christ - one who lived and died worshiping the one true God. I'm guessing that is what Saint Nicholas would want to be known for too, and maybe that is what I will tell my children about him. I want them to have fun at Christmas time, I want it to be a joyous event, but I also don't want to do a great disservice to a man who lived his life for Christ, nor do I want to lose sight of why we celebrate Christmas at all - the birth of our Savior.