The following is an excerpt from my new book, Near Christianity. These paragraphs are taken from chapter 2:
"On the Border of Always Winter and Always Christmas"
In this chapter I quote C. S. Lewis's view on "Xmas." He writes, "Christmas cards in general and the whole vast commercial drive called “Xmas” are one of my pet abominations. . . . If it were my business to have a “view” on this, I should say that I much approve of merrymaking. But what I approve of much more is everybody minding his own business." In the following, I contextualize this idea by using a passage from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
.....
Peter,
Susan, and Lucy are on the run. Edmond has chased the White Witch in search of
Turkish Delight and so he is not with the rest of the children. The reader will
remember, however, Edmond’s peril and the sound of the Witch’s sleigh. She is
the one who rides on a sledge drawn by two reindeer. The sound of jingling
announces her arrival because her reindeer have harnesses of scarlet leather
covered in bells. She has turned Mr. Tumnus to stone and she holds Narnia under
a curse: always winter and never
Christmas. It is then only natural for the young reader to feel Lucy’s fear
at the sound of bells:
It seemed to Lucy only the next minute (though really it was hours and hours later) when she woke up feeling a little cold and dreadfully stiff and thinking how she would like a hot bath. Then she felt a set of long whiskers tickling her cheek and saw the cold daylight coming in through the mouth of the cave. But immediately after that she was very wide awake indeed, and so was everyone else. In fact they were all sitting up with their mouths and eyes wide open listening to a sound which was the very sound they’d all been thinking of (and sometimes imagining they heard) during their walk last night. It was a sound of jingling bells.
Lucy—and
the reader with her—expects the sound of bells to mean doom. Instead the
children meet the person they least expect: Father Christmas. When my children
were reading this book with me, I asked, “Do you know who Father Christmas is?”
Even though we never called St. Nicholas by this name in our house they were
both certain that it was Santa. True to form, Father Christmas brings gifts. Unexpectedly,
and true only within The Lion, the Witch
and the Wardrobe, Father Christmas signals an end to the Witch’s magic. Or
(if you are like me and read this story for merging mythologies) Father
Christmas anticipates the end of exile and oppression. “‘Locks and bolts make no difference to me,’ said Father
Christmas.”[1]
His arrival marks the liberation from Narnia’s long winter.
This
story, like every good Christmas story, contains an unexpected gift. The
children, of course, receive gifts. But the greater gift is a literary irony: when
almost certain doom is anticipated by jingling bells, an equally grandiose but
opposite character arrives. The reader is taken from dread to hope in the
process.[2]
This unexpected turn is the gift. Moreover, it is only a gift if it is
unexpected.
Now
I come to my point. The children in this story are not asking for presents. They have written no letters to Santa. They—along
with the young reader—are entirely unaware that Father Christmas is even in
this story. Lucy is a refugee hoping to escape and survive. She is stranger in
a strange land and under no illusion of entitlement. The gift (charis means both gift and grace in
Greek) is not an entitlement. Doesn’t
this make the arrival of Christmas all the sweeter?
The
trouble with what Lewis called “Xmas” is that too many of us feel entitled to
it. And if we feel entitled to Christmas, don’t we rob it of its most gracious
virtue? Isn’t a sense of entitlement fundamentally opposite to a sense of
grace? I am of the opinion that the appreciation of grace requires the
experience of an unexpected turn.
Of
course, those who celebrate Advent (and I would recommend this over a “culture
war”) can hardly meet Christmas unexpectedly. Advent is about remembering and anticipating,
after all. We can, however, anticipate without a sense of entitlement. My guess
is that this will make Christmas time more enjoyable for our neighbors and for
us.
[1] C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (New York: HarperTrophy,
1978), 114-117.
[2] To play up further the contrast between
Father Christmas and the Witch, consider this: the Witch offers a false gift,
Turkish Delight. This is a “gift” that takes more from Edmond than it promises.
On the other hand, the historical St. Nicholas (upon whom Father Christmas is
based) was the Bishop of Myra, which is located in modern-day Turkey. So in
contrast to the Witch who promises Turkish Delight, Father Christmas is himself
from Turkey. Given the Turkish connection, it may also be relevant that Lewis
names the White Witch “Jadis.” The word for “witch” in Turkish is cadı pronounced, jah-duh. “Aslan,” in Turkish, means lion. (My thanks to folklorist
and friend, Nathan Young for his help.)
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