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Thinking Out Loud

Christmas Again

by Michael Jinkins | Dec 22, 2014
Christmas AgainPlane loads, car loads, bus and train loads, people groan toward Christmas. Madonna-like, whole nations, vast families of people, make their way toward improvised crèches, toward trees illuminated and festooned with tinsel, toward whatever praises the unimaginable possibility that lies beyond all human imagination, yet always seems just beyond our grasp.

Stuck behind the steering wheel or stacked like cordwood in economy class, my mind at this time of year drifts gossamer shrouded with the Ghost of Christmas Past.

Cedar trees in a childhood long past, cut down on Grandmother Fenley's farm and decorated with precious homemade ornaments dating from the hardscrabble holidays of the Great Depression.

Bells hung around our children's doorknobs upstairs alerting us that they were up on Christmas morning and making for the tree.

The session clerk of our old Scottish Kirk reading St. Luke's account of the birth of Jesus in Scots dialect every Christmas Eve; the congregation gathered in from the ceilidh in the parish hall, all of us still sweating from dancing reels and, of course, drinking the punch, straining to hear his lilting phrases.

That moment when the whole congregation at St. David's Cathedral knelt and sang by candlelight, "O Holy Night," that midnight moment like no other when even the most cynical, like Thomas Hardy's rough countrymen, rushed to the manger, "hoping it might be true."

Gathered around Christmas dinner tables past, faces we see in memory that we will miss in the flesh this year, and may have missed for a very long time.


Christmas again, and we hope not just once more. Nostalgia is potent this time of year.

Sometimes I get the feeling that we hide nostalgia behind the Christian pulpit, a bit ashamed and more than a bit embarrassed of eyes welling up watching White Christmas, A Christmas Carol or The Bishop's Wife on the late show, the kids dozing, piled-up on the couch. Religious people of a particular sort - the sort who are Presbyterians, for example - seem to regard a knowing rejection of nostalgia and its adjacent sentimentality as a badge of our spiritual sophistication, as if to say, "Yes, we believe in God, but we are much too intelligent to be subject to emotions." But, our nostalgia doesn't mean that we have forgotten "the reason for the season," reminded as we are by the signs on innumerable churches each year. Nor does our nostalgia mean we take the brain less seriously than the heart.

What brings us together, we know, is the miracle that never ceases to be a miracle however many department store bags are stacked in the spare room. And that miracle is attended by feelings and memories that evoke feelings. The season is many things, but it is also wistful, as rich in simple emotions as any wedding - or any funeral. And this is not a pagan thing, or a foolish thing, just a human one. And doesn't that make sense?

Christmas is, after all, the festival of the incarnation, the stubborn reminder that God is more dedicated to the flesh than any hedonist. God risked everything to become human. God still does. And, so, we celebrate Christmas again. And, again, we risk remembering, and feeling, and being as human as God.

Merry Christmas to you, your family, loved-ones and congregation from all of us at Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary!

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