Category: Love

A Disruptive Christmas

On January 12, 2025

Once again Christmas gives rise to glorious celebrations including music and carols, Christmas trees and candles, and gifts given and received. The actual stories, however, expect more. Take a look at Matthew and Luke. Most people know the cast: Mary, Joseph and Jesus, shepherds and wise men. Less known are Elizabeth and Zechariah, the parents of John the Baptist, born a few months before Jesus. Then there is King Herod, who rules by permission of Roman occupying forces, and finally an old man, Simeon, who gives a blessing.

Key to the stories is the tension between the angelic announcements and responses of those involved. The announcements proclaim new acts of salvation which will restore the nation, bring release from enemies, revelation to the Gentiles and peace on earth. The responses are quite varied: the women display confusion and fear, leading to excitement and praise of God, while Zechariah is so disturbed that he is struck speechless. There is fear among the shepherds, and even King Herod is so afraid that he plots to destroy all new born males if he cannot find the child predicted to be king. The wise men wish only to bring gifts and avoid aiding Herod’s plans. Zechariah recovers his speech to sing a new song, but only after allowing his wife to give his son the name of John, rather than his father’s name according to tradition. Then there is a final blessing by Simeon, who was granted his wish to see the salvation promised by God. There’s a lot of things packed into these stories and you may be able to identify with some aspect. No wonder the Christmas carols show no limits in joyfully celebrating reconciliation and peace at the appearance of the Messiah.

What we have, then, are stories of great joy mixed with fear and death of new born children and a final escape in the night taking Jesus to safety in Egypt. It is obvious that the writers could not forget that the salvation revealed in Jesus generated resistance and conflict. Indeed, the New Testament is dominated by the question: If Jesus really is the Son of David and the Christ, why did he die? It is therefore fitting that the story includes fear and resistance because the birth of Jesus intends to disrupt things as they are. In the songs of Mary and Zechariah there is the contrast between the humble, the faithful who fear God, and the hungry (or poor), versus the proud, the rulers and the enemies. The contrast between light and darkness represents the difference between the peace generated by faith and righteousness versus the violence and warfare of the world. .

Some of the songs intend to calm our fears. First, we are reminded that what will happen is in line with the promises to Abraham and the covenant of Moses. Time and again the fears of parents and shepherds are allayed by the assurance that God is faithful to the oath sworn to Abraham and our fathers. Bringing John’s birth into the story of Jesus is a step toward uniting the followers of John and Jesus. A dramatic move is the way Mary, who is young, unmarried and without child, ends up singing a song derived from Hannah, the mother of Samuel. Mary is therefore connected not only to Hannah, but also to Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel, the patriarchal wives, who all bear children late in life as promised by God. Since Mary is not old or barren, the point seems to be to place Jesus’ birth in this history of children born by God’s unexpected grace against human doubt and fear.

Assuring us of God’s faithfulness does not rule out that God intends something radically new. The references to rulers, the proud, and enemies probably refer to the current ruler who has collaborated with the Romans in occupying Israel. Besides being a political and economic burden, foreign occupation violates religious law, meaning that everyone has been compromised and in need of ritual purification. No wonder that John the Baptist will end up preaching repentance and washing in the Jordon as the first step toward true religion. Likewise, Zechariah’s reference to light and darkness can refer to keeping or violating the law. So he proclaims that the rescue from their enemies enables the pursuit of holiness and righteousness. Such liberation is, according to Simeon, extending light to the Gentiles and peace to Israel, or as the angels said to the shepherds, God is glorified in heaven and there shall be peace on earth.

But here’s the hard part: If Christmas is about a new act of redemption, a transformation of the world, and then Christmas will involve changing lives, with tensions and struggles. The early Christians knew this because that is exactly what happened in the story of Jesus. There was resistance, opposition, suffering, and death. We must therefore recognize that the uncomfortable and shocking side of the Christmas story reflects what happened between Christmas and Jesus’ death on the cross. So in our time there is resistance to the celebration of Christmas if it means disrupting things as they are. Either the promise of Christmas is confined to a limited time and space, or the promise is adjusted downward so that it does not threaten the world, be it those in power or average folk who would rather leave things as they are instead of having them change.

To illustrate the disruptive nature of Christmas, consider the way Christmas intends to transform time and space. For us in the northern hemisphere, our calendar consists of twelve months, all properly named and associated with the four seasons. Days of the week have specific names and repeat themselves every seven days. Time is organized and regulated as to what we should do and expect. Then along comes Christmas, always on the 25^th of December, but not the same day of the week. It sets up a distinctive configuration of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day—this year being Tuesday and Wednesday. We are not accustomed to have sacred things on Tuesday or Wednesday, but maybe Sunday. Suddenly two days of ordinary time are the stage for changing the world. Ordinary time tells you when to work or attend to personal interests. It tells you that some own most of everything and others are supposed to be happy with little food or health care. It reports where wars are destroying children and cities but not when they will end, since they are considered a normal way of doing business. Sacred time tells you that God is near, mandating repentance, reconciliation and peace. Thus Christmas is disruptive, since even we who are worn out by ordinary time are not sure we want things to change. Of course shepherds are afraid since they have little to say about anything, but so are rulers, who fear losing power, even to the point of killing children. Mary is called to accept a role in God’s plan without knowing how this is possible. Like Abraham, long ago commanded to kill Isaac, she must trust God. Then, almost in comic relief, but not quite because it too is so serious, against tradition Zechariah allows his wife to name their child and regains his speech. These things do not happen in ordinary time but are made possible because the sacred is disrupting things.

In a similar way our space is changed. A tree is brought into the house, decorations change the interior space, and at the center of this sacred space is a manger with a child surrounded by people summoned by God to bear witness to what God is doing in this world. Words and actions confined to the sacred space of churches now appear in our homes but also public squares and the airwaves. Recall again how the carols talk about some very heavy stuff: God being near, people reconciled, peace on earth. All this is very threatening to those who rule according to their own interests, as even today they would keep to their schedule of killing children in Ukraine and across the Middle East. They resist the encroachment of the sacred, but since they are unwilling to declare outright war on it, they try instead to confine it to a few days in December or to small sacred spaces. They ask us to capitalize on the joys of shopping and parties in the hope that you will have a “Merry Little Christmas.” The very words make one wonder what a Big Christmas would look like. Nevertheless, Christmas, with its fear, sorrow and joy, resists being confined in the hope that we will dare to celebrate a world transformed. In spite of the cultural forces organized to mute the message, it still intrudes with news of peace on earth, good will among all people. In one sense what defines the church is precisely this: it is a community on earth that persists in living in the reality of God’s reconciling love all the time.

Let me close with two things. First, my son and editor, Nathan, in these days of remembrance of President Jimmy Carter, ran across these words of Carter from his speech upon receiving the Nobel Peace Prize: “War may sometimes be a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, never a good. We will not learn how to live together in peace by killing each other’s children.”

The second is a memory of mine from our years living in the Chicago area. On the roof of the Merchandise Mart in downtown Chicago, every year they would light a big sign proclaiming Peace on Earth during the Christmas season. Then I discovered that the sign was there all year, only the lights were not on. It made me wonder what would happen if they were left on all year. It was culturally acceptable to have the lights on in December and part of January and to then turn them off so we could get back to ordinary time. A little bit of disruption is acceptable but having the lights on all year would be too much. That, no doubt, would raise all sorts of questions. And that is why Christmas is disruptive.

Love and Justice

By Peter Schmiechen

On October 25, 2024

In Family, Grace, Love, Politics, Theology

In 1961 my wife, Jan, and I joined CORE, the Congress of Racial Equality. We were 23 and I was in seminary in St. Louis. Core was committed to breaking down the walls of segregation. The organizing committee consisted of about ten people, holding meetings Sunday evenings. They were all professional people, older than we were. One young man by the name of Clay later became a U.S. Congressman. We didn’t know much about the racial problems in St. Louis or about how to change things. So we listened. I was especially interested in the interplay between theory and strategy.

Mainline Protestants had developed a consensus about the priority of love. Love can be defined in many ways, from satisfying our needs to love of another or God without regard for oneself. Given the priority of Jesus giving his life for service of God and neighbor, Protestants leaned toward thinking of the highest form of love as self-sacrifice for God and others.

But how does love as self-sacrifice relate to the struggles of justice which involve conflicting self-interests and struggles of power, or even restraining evil doers to protect the defenseless? And of course, many wanted to know how such self-sacrificing love related to the clash of national interests which demanded citizens to join military action against another state. One solution was to argue that the church was bound by the standard of love, while the state was obligated and permitted to use power to resist evil and achieve justice. But that left some questions. For example, were believers as Christians obligated to be pacifists? Or, could Christians utilize power in politics or in the pursuit of justice in society? My Father, a pastor, leaned strongly toward pacifism, although he supported WWII. Yet he did not know what to make of political action, which routinely involved power. His caution also extended to the direct action programs in the civil rights movement. As a result, the split between love and justice involved theoretical issues and personal decisions.

In the face of this impasse, Reinhold Niebuhr had presented a bold alternative. He declared Christians must chose both: love as self-sacrifice was indeed the highest ethical standard but Christians were also obligated to pursue justice and protect the defenseless. But here’s the catch: In most cases, justice in this world can only be achieved with various levels of coercion. This was obvious for Niebuhr in WWII, but long before that he discovered that achieving justice in social struggles involved some form of coercion, as in the case of removing the practices of segregation. Then, having shocked all his liberal religious friends by arguing some degree of coercion is permitted, he turned and argued that non-violent coercion was morally and practically superior to violent coercion.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. took this idea and developed a strategy for change, based on non-violent coercion. Other groups, such as CORE, followed in developing effective strategies. In our small group meetings we were asked to think about applying non-violent force to change segregation. This meant we would interrupt business at “Whites Only” lunch counters at Woolworth’s, but not do physical harm to people or property and not respond in word or act with violence if something happened to us. We were also told that we could be arrested. That caused us some pause. We had never been arrested and we had no idea what effect such would have on Jan teaching in a public school or my being in seminary. We knew that our parents would not be pleased about our getting arrested, or even just participating. After weeks of discussion and soul searching we decided to go ahead.

As I recall, the sit in succeeded in disrupting business as usual at the lunch counter. Some white people were not very happy and said so. A reporter took our names and we were listed the next day in the newspaper. But no one got arrested. This of course was small stuff compared to the sit-ins and demonstrations that would come across the south where demonstrators were beaten and some were killed. Soon the City Council introduced a proposal to require public places to be open to all people. This brought an interesting twist. At the CORE meeting prior to the vote, someone asked by anyone knew a respected member of the Council. To everyone’s surprise, the student in the back row (me) raised his hand and I was asked to call him. He was a member of the church my Father had serviced in St. Louis. But I had last seen him when I was 8 years old. Somewhat nervous I called him and we had a good talk and he said he would think about it. He voted for the change. Somehow, his own moral compass and his friendship to his pastor prompted him to reverse course. Even in the rough and tough politics of City Hall, love and friendship still displayed great power. We continued to be a part of the group until we went off to the east for further study.

During that time, I heard Dr. King in St. Louis. One statement stuck with me: he said he was not asking us to love black people but to refrain from lynching them. That always reminded me that the issue was not an attempt to suddenly reach the highest level of moral achievement (loving one another, or the white fear of intermarriage) but justice as freedom from violent and repressive practices. Segregation was and is a form of terrorism because it devalues some people. It is state sponsored violence. Those that deny that sin can be embedded in the social practices and laws of society need a history lesson. People were suffering and dying. Right then. So what were we going to do about it? Appeals to love seldom did much to change systemic racism and violence. Dr. King offered an alternative: An incremental plea based on a non-violent strategy to reduce violence against blacks and facilitate the possibility of living together. Now this may not sound like much, but back then it was a huge step forward.

There was no doubt that non-violent coercion was a use of force. At that lunch counter we prevented people from eating there. The sit in took money away from waitresses and Woolworth’s. We could claim it was not violent but it still was coercion. Was it justifiable? For Dr. King (and Niebuhr) it was justifiable in light of the suffering and threat to life. Read Dr. King’s Letter from Birmingham Jail to get a sense of his deep disappointment when religious leaders told him he should be patient. Patience and appeals to ethics had not changed much. The same can be said when “thoughts and prayers” are extended to the victims of gun violence today, or when only condolences are offered to women denied medical relief by force in the face of rape and incest. The disregard for suffering knows no bounds. That is why Dr. King sought a third alternative of non-violent coercion in the cause of justice. It is less than self-sacrifice, though many have been sacrificed in the process. Acts of non-violent coercion are a form of justice that spares us the terrible consequences of violence and perhaps embodies the hope of reconciling love. In spite of all the resistance and suffering, even Dr. King could dream.