The Lion, the Witch, the Grand Canyon, and Christmas

One thing that stands out to me about C. S. Lewis' book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is the way Narnia changed because of the coming of Aslan. Remember? Prior to his arrival Narnia was a cold place, a dark place, a place where it was always winter yet never Christmas.

But after Aslan's coming, Christmas returns, and shortly thereafter, Spring arrives, the snow and ice melts, rivers start to flow and everything begins to bloom again. Birds sing, skies are blue, the days lengthen and warm. The wicked queen is vanquished and the four children sit on the thrones of their castle at Cair Paravel.

Aslan's coming changed so much about the world of Narnia. But Aslan's coming pales in comparison...

Think of the difference the day Jesus Christ was born, Christmas day, made!!! Christ's influence on the world was immeasurable. The story of Christ's birth is a story of promise, hope, and a revolutionary love. So, what happened? What was once a time to celebrate the birth of a savior has somehow turned into a season of stress, traffic jams, and shopping lists. And when it's all over, many of us are left with presents to return, looming debt that will take months to pay off, and an empty feeling of missed purpose. Is this what we really want out of Christmas?

What if Christmas became a world-changing event again?

I think of the old pioneer who was travelling westward across the southern part of our great country. One day he came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the Grand Canyon. He stared, unbelievingly at the sight before him: a vast chasm one mile deep, eighteen miles wide, and stretching left and right farther than the eye could see! He gasped, “Something must have happened here!” What if, a stranger to Christmas, came upon our celebrations and observed our lives? Would that stranger gasp and say to themselves ”Something must have happened here!”? And would that something be something that changed the world?

We Catholic Americans lament the loss of a religious “Merry Christmas” to the lowest-common-denominator “Happy Holidays” as a greeting at this time of year. We may be disappointed when some forgo the expressions “B.C.” (Before Christ) and “A.D.” (Anno Domini—In the year of our Lord) in favor of “C.E.” (Common Era) and “B.C.E.” (Before the Common Era). We find the diminishing influence of Catholic values in American society disconcerting. Many are angered at the removal of the manger scene from public property.

I have come to wonder at the same time whether or not it also represents a kind of seismic shift in the foundations of our lives as Church. Have we Christians begun to cease reckoning time and history on the basis of the birth of Jesus? After all, have we not long since ignored what Jesus taught? What is the point of pretending that his birth is the center of history, if his teaching, particularly his teaching of non-violent, active love of friends and enemies, fails to occupy a central place in our lives, both individually or communally?

And yet, the point that I am trying to make is that something definitive, irrevocable, and extraordinary did happen on that night in Bethlehem. Human history is divided into time "before Christ" and time since his coming, and, we believe, history itself will come to an end with his second coming. The Incarnation is the critical point upon which the entire human story is bent, as a door opens and closes upon its hinges.

Do we Catholics continue to live with the same old fears that have haunted humanity from the beginning; have we have ceased to reckon our history from the perspective of the birth of Jesus Christ? Is it any longer the unique, decisive moment in human history for us and for the world, the moment in which everything changed once and for all? Our witness to hope and against fear has faltered. As a consequence, the rest of humanity is able to put Jesus on the shelf alongside other gods and heroes in its pantheon of powerless deities. And Christmas becomes just another of the "happy holidays" among all the others observed around the world.

Perhaps, however, Christmas can be different again, and perhaps we can make it so. We can make the difference of Christmas apparent to the world around us, to those whose lives touch ours. In order to do this, we do not have to join the chorus of voices that demand that Christmas and the Church be restored to the place of privilege and prestige that it had in American culture at one time. Still less are we under a divine calling to spend like crazy, as if the nation's economic recovery depended on whether or not we buy that flat-screen TV for Christmas. Nor does it do any good to lament the diminishing influence of Christian values in society, as if it were society's fault that the Gospel finds less and less of a place in it.

On the contrary, it seems to me more of the blame for that can be can be found in the fact that we, who know that we are called to become Love, cannot even cease waging war, practicing torture, divorcing, and aborting our children at about the same rate as non-believers, and committing the myriads of acts of violence and cruelty that spring from our own nature and fears. The fact that we sometimes attempt to justify it in the name of Jesus only serves to render him less credible to people everywhere.

Ultimately, it makes no difference to the Catholic Christian whether the world sees in the infant Jesus the source of all that is. It makes no difference to the Catholic Christian whether the world reckons its history from the unexpected miracle of His birth. It makes all the difference in - and to - the world, that you do, however.

To this end, may the Divine Presence be yours this Christmas Day.