Is 9:2-7 & Ti 2:11-14
24 December 2008
Christmas Eve
“Have a Zealous Christmas”
“There won’t be any Christmas this year.” I imagine we’ve all heard statements to that effect. Maybe even we ourselves have said something along those lines. “This year, there’s going to be a lean Christmas!” What would prompt such a statement? How could we possibly prevent, or even hinder, the arrival of Christmas?
Of course, I understand that what’s usually meant by that kind of sentiment is financial difficulty. It’s the feeling that there’s little, if any, money available to be spent on Christmas presents. I have two quick responses to that. First is the notion that gifts that cost money are better than ones someone has created, using their God-given imagination. Second is the way we mimic the Grinch, who by stealing presents from Who-ville, thought he actually could stop Christmas from coming.
Don’t misunderstand me: I’m not saying buying Christmas presents is a bad thing. (I’ve been known to do it myself!) What bothers me is how we as the church so mindlessly—so robotically—imitate our culture. We turn Christmas into an arms race in which those without are made to feel less worthy than those with. Nothing could be less Christ-like.
I have to confess, it’s that mentality which almost ruins Christmas for me. It’s that, and the sensory overload (beginning in October, sometimes September) that perhaps can be expressed by the saying, “familiarity breeds contempt.” Although, I should add, familiarity with what? Is it really with Christmas, or is it with Christmas as economic stimulus package? Or, Christmas as cheesy store decorations?
Kathleen Norris, whose book Acedia and Me I finally finished reading, has her own problem with Christmas. Three years ago, she wrote about the “many defenses [we have] against hearing the Christmas readings and taking them to heart.”[1] She speaks of images that are very familiar.
For example, look at our Old Testament reading in Isaiah 9. It begins, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (v. 2). And how often have we heard the wonderful language of verse 6? “For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
We’re used to hearing these messianic titles, but what is it that brings all of this about? Look at the end of verse 7: “The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” Zeal! That’s not something we usually associate with Christmas. It sounds a little too extreme, too fanatical.
But then, look at our epistle reading in Titus 2, beginning with verse 11: “the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all.” Okay, that doesn’t seem like it’s overly…out there. Still, as the passage goes along, things begin feel more fervent. And at the end, we read that Jesus “gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own who are [get ready for it!] zealous for good deeds” (v. 14). “Zealous for good deeds.” There’s the “z” word again!
This is where we get to our sister Kathleen’s ambivalence about Christmas. “I tend to enjoy Advent, with all of its mystery and waiting,” she says, “but find it difficult to muster much enthusiasm when Christmas Eve comes around. I know I’m cheating myself, succumbing to my usual temptation to sloth, which Christian tradition understands as not mere laziness but as the perverse refusal of a possible joy. The ancient monks saw zeal as the virtue opposed to sloth.”[2] Zeal as a remedy for sloth!
I can see myself reflected in her words. Is there something about which I could positively say, “I am zealous!”? What would that look like? And if I have trouble seeing it, could I at least claim to be zealous in wanting to be zealous?
I find myself agreeing with her when she says “zeal makes us nervous…We prefer the protective detachment of irony or sarcasm, and regard zeal as pathetic if not pathological. When [someone] exhibits too much passion over anything…we label that person as obsessive or compulsive, and mutter, ‘Get a life.’”[3]
I don’t think very much convincing is needed when I say that even religious zeal can be bad. Those kinds of zealots throw bombs, burn down abortion clinics, and show up at military funerals, claiming that this is God’s vengeance. No, I don’t think very much convincing is needed when I say that religious zeal is probably the worst of all.
The long history of Benedictine spirituality addresses this; it’s aware of it. Chapter 72 of the Rule of Benedict distinguishes between the “wicked zeal of bitterness which separates from God” and the “good zeal which separates from evil.” We need not fear this kind of zeal. The reason for that is because it’s grounded in love.
Joan Chittister comments, “Good zeal provides the foundation for the spirituality of the long haul. It keeps us going when days are dull and holiness seems to be the stuff of more glamorous lives.” She adds that “sanctity is the stuff of community in Christ and that any other zeal, no matter how dazzling it looks, is false. Completely false.”[4] The glitz and glamour of our Christian cult of personality is shown to be false. It’s empty.
I’m not just talking about those characters on television. I’m referring to the ambition, the drive, which leads us to push an agenda that ignores the words of Benedict to us: “Let [us] prefer nothing whatever to Christ.” The trick is avoiding that false zeal and embracing the genuine article.
Somewhat of a trick is needed to dig through the layers of tradition, both good and bad tradition, which surrounds Christmas. Too much of how we celebrate Christmas smothers the genuine, good, and life-giving zeal of its promise.
Here’s a final word from Norris on that point: “The zealous love of this God has already appeared among us in the flesh to train us for a new life and teach us how to welcome him when he comes again in glory…If we feel utterly exhausted, drained of all feeling and weary with worldly chores and concerns, so much the better. Our weakness is God’s strength. Our emptiness means that there is room for God after all.”[5]
Making room for God is probably the best definition for zeal. So let me do one better than wishing you, “Merry Christmas!” Have a zealous Christmas!