Revolution

When I watched The Muppets Christmas Carol this week, I enjoyed the music and the humor and the artistry, and I was struck by something that probably only students of Christian cultural history–even casual ones like myself–would notice: two competing visions of Christmas, one waning in the 19th century and one on the rise in the same time period.

The revelry and excess and drinking at Scrooge’s old boss Fozziwig’s (in the Dickens’ original Fezziwig) party were typical of a long period of time in which drunken revelry was the predominant celebration of Christmas. Such bacchanalia were tied to ancient Roman celebrations of Saturnalia in mid-December, characterized by drunkenness, feasting, role reversal, and gift-giving.

Meanwhile the domesticity of the Cratchit family Christmas, and the charitable collections of the men who visit Scrooge’s place of business, are emblematic of a deliberate attempt to rectify those excesses of early Christmas celebrations by refocusing the holiday in the home, on children, and on good works. This is the old Christmas that many people long for when decrying the commercialization of contemporary Christmas–even though it wasn’t all that long ago, from a broad historical perspective, and more importantly, even though, from the very beginning the shift toward domesticity and children brought with it consumption and spending. That specific flaw in the “let’s go back to Christmas as it used to be” argument is a sermon for another year.

What’s important to me these days–and in fact, has been on my mind going back to last December–is the way that for centuries Christmas, alongside and mixed up with Yule/the Solstice, and to a lesser extent Chanukkah and Kwanzaa, has functioned as a sort of blank canvas upon which segments of Christianity and secular culture alike cast their vision of the meaning and proper observance of the holiday. The “reason for the season” has never been exclusively the birth of Christ two millennia ago in Bethlehem.

Many of you have probably seen a couple memes that have circulated through social media for the past few Decembers. One of them depicts apparently homeless Joseph and Mary in front of a bodega. Joseph pages through Yellow Pages, propping the receiver of a payphone between his shoulder and ear. Signs in the windows behind him advertise Weisman Cigarettes and Starr Beer. Pregnant Mary sits astride a coin operated rocking horse, her sweatshirt emblazoned with Nazareth School. In the background a lighted Dave’s Motel sign declares No Vacancy and New Man ger (manager with the A missing).

The second meme, in the vibrant colors and style of icons, shows the Holy Family as undocumented immigrants crossing a moonlight desert. Joseph with a backpack, Mary with Jesus wrapped in a shawl worn as a babycarrying sling across her chest.

This December those memes have been joined by photographs of Nativity scenes at several churches in different US cities. In some of these scenes the stable, devoid of human figures, displays a sign reading ICE was here–suggesting that the Holy Family has been detained. Other scenes, likewise devoid of human figures, display signs stating that the Holy Family is in hiding due to ICE activity in the neighborhood. In still others, the infant Jesus is shown with zip ties around his wrists.

Meanwhile, as we heard in this morning’s second reading, back in 1943 Germany, sitting in prison, Europe in ruins around him, Dietrich Bonhoeffer recalled and described Albrecht Altdorfer’s 1513 depiction of the Holy Family sheltering in the ruins of a destroyed building. That painting shows Mary and Joseph and the baby in the manger barely visible behind a crumbling brick pillar, under a wood beamed floor only partially intact. Through his recollection of this sharp contrast to other Renaissance era Nativities that were plush, or pastoral or ornate, the theologian urges the celebration of Christmas even amidst contemporary ruin.

I can hear the cries of the “victims” of the (imaginary) War on Christmas: "how dare you paint our holly jolly holiday with a woke brush! Politics out of Christmas! Why can’t we just have a nice traditional, pious, cozy and bright Christmas?"

Oh, so many answers to those objections:

Woke wasn’t a thing in 1943 or 1513. So my reading an 82 year old Bonhoeffer letter aloud here this morning, and Bonhoeffer himself describing a painting from 400 prior to his writing of that letter, aren’t indications of wokenness. They are reports of historical events: a letter that was written, a painting that was painted.

Second, as I already mentioned, there never was a purely wholesome or non-consumer driven Christmas, and the holly jolly Christmas celebrated in song and television and movies was at times, well, jolly to dangerous extremes.

Furthermore, there have been periods of time in which, and groups of Christians for whom, the birth of Christ was little more than a blip on the Church calendar. No decorations, no feasts, no gifts, no music, not even a day off work or a special church service.

In addition to all these ways Christmas has been that blank canvas onto which visions of society have been cast, in recent decades religious progressives, including but not limited to Unitarian Universalists, in a commitment to interfaith understanding, have increasingly lifted up the theme of light in the darkness of the northern hemisphere winter that is common across holidays from Chanukkah to Solstice, Advent and Christmas to Kwanzaa. False equivalencies, appropriation, and transmission of shallow or incorrect information and practices are but a few of the pitfalls inherent in such an approach to “the holidays.”

And, there is power and potential in celebrating interfaith and cross-cultural similarities. Deepening understanding, breaking barriers, combining economic and other community resources are among the benefits.

Candles, fire, and colored bulbs shining forth from deep darkness, central to Advent, Christmas, Yule, Chanukka and Kwanzaa, are striking, evocative symbols of hope, perseverance, guidance and possibility. They are the most frequently highlighted points of connection between these December observances, but they are not the only point of connection. As I wrote in my December newsletter column last year, the theme of revolution also unites these holidays and holy times that are in terms of history, significance, practice, and ritual so very different one from another.

"[W]e could cast all the various celebrations coming at us in this month as revolutionary [I wrote]–that is to say, upsetting the natural or expected order of things.

"[Christmas]: A baby in place of a mighty ruler. A baby whose birth nevertheless brought terror to the heart of Herod. A baby who would grow into a man who would disrupt the accepted order of things over and over again–showing a preference for outcast, a disregard for the letter of religious law. Revolutionary leadership.

"[Yuletide/Solstice]: Peoples of the northern hemisphere for centuries, and still today, celebrating in the longest nights of the darkest time of the year, in defiance of a perfectly understandable impulse to cower in the fear that the sun might never return. Revolutionary revelry.

"[Chanukkah]: The Maccabees resisting both the attractions of hellenization and the coercion to submit to it. Jews through the ages and around the globe holding tight to their identity. Revolutionary resistance.

"[Kwanzaa]: A holiday born out of the Watts Riots calling African American families and communities to honor their heritage, celebrate their existence, envision their future–all that was then and is still now under attack. Revolutionary celebration.

"One of the songs of the season insists, “we need a little Christmas now.” If I remember the scene correctly, Mame and her hybrid chosen/bio family were starting the decorating a bit early because a run of bad luck and disappointments had them needing a little cheer right then, not later."

In 2024 I wrote "This December we need a little revolution now. Let’s look to these holidays and holy times for reminders that revolution takes many forms, shows up in unlikely places, sometimes looks like something else, and while it demands our hearts, it often lifts our spirits, too."

We still need a little revolution now in 2025, perhaps even more than last year.

We need the revolutionary message of homeless/migrant Holy Family memes that are in fact not woke, but rather in their portrayal of “the least of these” harken back to Mary’s declaration upon learning she was pregnant with God’s child:

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.

We need the revolutionary message of courageous pastors and church boards and congregations displaying nativity scenes that aren’t so much political as they are profoundly prophetic–stark reminders that from before his birth Jesus was destined to upset the order of society, and was therefore from the moment of his birth in danger from the hands of empire.

We need the revolutionary message sent by celebrations of the sun in the shortest days of the year–calling us to trust in the return and growth of things we cannot yet see, things of power, of life, of possibility.

We need the revolutionary message of the Chanukkah menorah burning in the windows of homes for eight nights–assuring us that miracles do happen here, now in the age of reason and information, and many miracles of those miracles are born of faith and perseverance.

We need the revolutionary message of the kinara, with its red, black and green candles standing for the seven principles of Kwanzaa–declaring the strength there is in knowing who we are, who our community is, and what values hold that community together.

From the Bacchanalia-tinged revelry and excesses of the middle ages to Puritan era edicts forbidding the observance of the holiday, from the 19th century attempts to domesticize the holiday, and up through the late twentieth century/early twenty-first century impulse toward lifting up deep and seemingly universal themes running through Christmas and other winter holidays–through all these ages and societies, observances of Christmas the music, the images, the rituals, both reflect and shape the needs, the values, the events of any given era. It makes sense therefore, that today, when unfettered presidential power and obscene wealth in the hands of the few, coupled with insatiable greed, are destroying lives, devastating communities, flouting the rule of law, and smashing the fabric of our country–it makes sense at this moment in history that artists and faith leaders and faith communities are bringing forth prophetic elements of the story of Jesus’ conception, birth and early years, and calling our attention contemporary empire and injustice, drawing clear parallels between that ancient story and our lives today.

May we find in these installations and works of art, and the old familiar songs, stories and poems, both inspiration and sustenance to engage in the revolution that will save our world. Amen.

Meditation for 12/14/2025

"Let Christmas come," we sing, "when days are short and winds are cold." But a Grinch taught us years ago that we can’t stop Christmas from coming. Ready or not, like it or not, hate it or not, it comes just the same.

So let us come, when days are short and winds are cold.

Let us come to this season with ears to hear angels’ songs and glad tidings; to hear ancient melodies and fresh harmonies; to hear hopes and fears of all the years.

Let us come to this season with eyes to behold wonders of candlelight and firelight and brightly colored bulbs; to behold wonders in faces full of joy; to behold wonders hidden in daily rounds.

Let us come to Christmastide with expectant souls to receive revelations, with spacious hearts to welcome what gifts might be offered, and with open spirits to sway and bow and lift with the blessings of the season.

Let us come into the holiness of short days and cold winds and pregnant possibility. Amen

"Let Christmas come," we sing, "when days are short and winds are cold." But a Grinch taught us years ago that we can’t stop Christmas from coming. Ready or not, like it or not, hate it or not, it comes just the same.

So let us come, when days are short and winds are cold.

Let us come to this season with ears to hear angels’ songs and glad tidings; to hear ancient melodies and fresh harmonies; to hear hopes and fears of all the years.

Let us come to this season with eyes to behold wonders of candlelight and firelight and brightly colored bulbs; to behold wonders in faces full of joy; to behold wonders hidden in daily rounds.

Let us come to Christmastide with expectant souls to receive revelations, with spacious hearts to welcome what gifts might be offered, and with open spirits to sway and bow and lift with the blessings of the season.

Let us come into the holiness of short days and cold winds and pregnant possibility. Amen