A Familiar Mystery

Oh, the magic and wonder that is the Christmas season.  We went to a nearby village the other day for a tree lighting and fireworks, and my kids just had to traipse through the snow to get up close to the lights.  There were thousands of them, and the awe was overpowering – especially for the preschoolers in the crowd (and me)!  From lights, to haunting melodies, to legends of Santa, this time of year is always good on its promise to mystify.

However, when I read the Christmas story I am reminded that much of what we find mysterious was actually once quite familiar, and in much of what we find familiar lies the true Christmas mystery.  Manger scenes, for example, are exclusively Christmas for us.  A baby in a stable?  That just doesn’t happen, not even in Wyoming!  However, to be rejected from a hotel and forced to bed down in straw would have been a pretty normal experience for a 1^st century traveler.  I’m not saying a lot of babies were born in barns, I’m just saying it probably wouldn't be newsworthy enough for the Casper Star.  While the legend is perpetuated that Jesus’ swaddling clothes were akin to the wrappings archeologists find on mummies, the historians tell us that they were merely strips of cloth that most all babies were wrapped in right after birth.  So much of what is mysterious to us was commonplace for them.  It is as though God sent his Son to meet with us in our most familiar environment.  Indeed, it is exactly like that, and therein we find the true mystery of Christmas.

“’Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel’ (which means, God with us)” (Matthew 1:23).  In the Old Testament, we read many stories of man encountering God, and it was always terrifying!  In fact, God himself said in Exodus 33 “no man can see me and live!”  We cannot reach God, and in order for God to reach us, something must change.  He must come to us in a form that we can understand, that we can look upon, that we can touch (1 John 1:1), and so it came to pass, that out of his great love for us, God sent his one and only Son (John 3:16).  “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).  He came.  He came as one of us.  He came in the approachable humility of the common man, at his place of work, celebrated only by other common men, in work clothes.  God stepped out of omnipresence in order that he could be present.  This is the heart and soul of the Christmas mystery.

Celebrate it well this week!  God has come!  Open your gifts with a view of the true Gift.  Tell your Christmas stories centered on the first Christmas story.  Enjoy your Christmas traditions, remembering that they exist because of a rich and ancient tradition that anticipates the redemption of mankind.  Get lost in the mystery, remembering the greatest mystery of all, “She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

Here Comes Santa Claus: a short (highly plagiarized) history of a legendary (fat) guy

(Disclaimer: Virtually everything here was borrowed, copied, or otherwise taken from here, but mine is shorter and, in my opinion, more fun to read.)  

As we prepare for our final approach to Christmas, I thought it appropriate to take a look at the man behind the red parka.  In the grey space between legend and history lives the real life, rotund, sleigh flyer.  Although, his girth is as questionable as every other characteristic of the man who may, or may not, have actually lived.  While St. Nicholas is intensely popular in both the Greek and Roman Church, there is not a single historical document testifying to his existence.  Nevertheless, for what it’s worth, here’s what we can piece together about the real life, legendary, factual, mythical, historically ambiguous, Santa Claus.

He was born to a wealthy family around 300 A.D., but after his parents’ deaths he gave away all of his inheritance.  Tales of his legendary miracle working include resurrecting three girls after an innkeeper beheaded them and pickled them in a tub of brine.  (Put that on your Christmas card!)  Such miracles led to him being made bishop of Myra (in Turkey), but due to early persecution of the Church, he was imprisoned until Constantine legalized Christianity.  He was released from prison at the height of the Arian controversy, a teaching that denies the divinity of Christ.  As the story goes, Jolly old St. Nicholas traveled to the Council of Nicaea and physically slapped Arius in the face.  The lyric comes to mind, “he knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake!”  The other bishops of the council were shocked by his rude behavior and stripped him of his bishopness until Jesus and Mary appeared at his side, at which time he was instantly reinstated.  At this point, I’d like to point out that the Council of Nicaea did in fact excommunicate Arius, but they kept impeccable notes and Nicholas is nowhere mentioned.

What we know to be fact is that by the year 565 a church in Constantinople was built to bear his name.  In the 900’s, both the Eastern and Western churches reverenced his memory (or legend).  In medieval times, he was depicted by more artists than any saint other than Mary, and in the Middle Ages, more than 400 churches in England bore his name.  In the Germanic countries, his legends became so mixed with Norse mythology that it is impossible to separate him from the pagan god Odin.  While his radical stand for dogmatism was diminished in common memory, the legends of his generosity grew.  For example, another version of the pickled girl story was that the girls were to be sold into prostitution.  The man in red purchased their freedom by throwing bags of gold (most likely from his inheritance) through their windows.  Thus, Nick-the-extravagant-gift-giver took center stage.

When the Reformation came in the mid 16^th century, all protestant countries squelched the St. Nick legend, save Holland.  There, he was known as Sinterklass.  In Germany, Martin Luther emphasized the ultimate Christmas gift-giver, the Christ Child, or in German, Christkindl.  Over the years this came to be pronounced, Kris Kringle. 

And it came to pass that in the soup of Christian culture, the story of Jesus, the legend of an ancient bishop, and the myth of a Viking god, were morphed into a single household name.  From miracles, to extravagant gift giving, to slapping heretics in the face, this is the legend of Santa Claus.  One Christmas story that has remained unchanged is that “she will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).  Martin Luther was right.  Jesus is the ultimate gift-giver!