Christmas. Ho Hum

Even as a child, I was uneasy about Christmas. Although I had the same anxiety as other children about what presents I was getting, there was something very annoying that Icould not, at that time, explain.

Born and raised in the Black Church, I attended the obligatory Sunday school despite all attempts to avoid it. In filtering out all the myth and dogma, which even then offeneded me, I came to love the historical Jesus, that was when Jesus was a Jew. This guy made sense and his philosophy, if embraced, gave me a chance of growing up to be a pretty good man.

Each year, Christmas became more and more commercial. Spend more money. Buy more stuff. And if you didn't participate you were a cheap-skate, lacked the Christmas spirit and just an all around Grouch. But I thought Christmas was about Jesus. He was a pauper. He taught us not to store up things on earth for weather to corrupt and thieves to steal. What's up with all this scurrying around to find the best gift, going into debt and feigning good spirit? Wasn't this supposed to be the celebration of Jesus's birthday?

It is so tacky to throw a party and not invite the host. The big lighted tree with piles of gayly wrapped gifts beneath, the carols, the feast, the nativity scenes all in evidence. But where is the host of this shindig? Where's Jesus?

Let's remember what this is -or should be- all about. When we go into our big opulent churches and sing those great Christmas hymns, let's listen to the words. Let's worry less about immersing our kids in theology, but help them to hear the words of the man for whom we threw this party. He was an amazing prophet and his teachings wait silently while we celebrate a myth.