Showing posts from December, 2017

Jesus was a refugee

There is so much tradition and nostalgia around Christmas, the customs and traditions cast big shadows. They are often seen as the principal signs of the holiday, instead of as garland. But tonight, let us remember... Christmas is real. Now I love Miracle on 34th Street, and It’s Wonderful Life, and Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. I like Christmas trees and houses decked with lights and reindeer. I love carols and candles, giving and receiving gifts, and holiday food and parties as the nights have been growing longer. But forget the cartoons. Forget the little drummer boy and Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, and Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. Forget Ebenezer Scrooge, and the jolly old fat man in the red suit. Forget even the nativity scenes. There’s nothing wrong with these, some are perfectly lovely, some are true expressions of faith. Every now and then we need to go back and remember that the actual baby Jesus was not a character in a story. Like every other newborn child, he wa