Annual Holiday Hang-Ups Have Begun

What is it about Christians that makes them want to suck the fun out of everything?

The Thanksgiving leftovers are barely in the fridge and more than one of my theologically educated friends have already self-righteously declared that one mustn't celebrate Christmas until December 25. Or is it December 24? In case you are about to let me know which of these it is, let me assure you with utmost emphasis, that I don't care.

This is arguably the most celebrated time of year. Families gather, houses are festively decorated, we bring out our favorite traditional recipes, and we give each other gifts to express our love. 

We should be attending parties and enjoying concerts and watching TV specials. So why are so many determined to stamp the fun out of the holidays by shoving their particular hang-ups down everyone else's throat?

The one that is particularly bothering me this year is the idea from religiously correct, Christian purists that we shouldn't enjoy Christmas until it is officially, liturgically Christmas - that is, until tradition says Baby Jesus is actually born. Up until then, it's only Advent, a time of expectation and waiting. God forbid we should enjoy a little Christmas caroling or set up our manger set too early.

Don't worry, the hangups of past years continue to bother me. There are many other ways people are determined to take the joy out of the holidays this year as well:

- The war on Christmas. Whether you say an innocent "Merry Christmas" to a coworker or wish your neighbor a casual, "Happy Holidays," it's the same as declaring whether you vote Republican or Democrat. I'd prefer not to be attacked for they way I sincerely wish a fellow human being a happy season. Can we just express friendly tidings to each other without getting into a "war" about it?

- Don't take the Christ out of Christmas. The people who make this plea are particularly galling. Whether you like it or not, there is a lot more to the holiday season than the traditional story of the birth of Christ.  Winter Solstice celebrations long predate Christmas. It's the darkest time of the year and we need something to lighten things up. If someone wants to go to the holiday parade and decorate a tree, drink eggnog, or take their kid to see Santa at the mall, why isn't that ok? If you want to go to Christmas mass and worship Baby Jesus and all that stuff, by all means go ahead and do so. But leave everyone else alone. I believe the story of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer has moral relevance even though it isn't from the Bible. What is it about Christians that makes them want to suck the fun out of everything?

- Christmas is too commercial. Yes, yes, yes, this complaint is as old as Christmas itself. Can I make a suggestion? Get over it. That is something which is simply not going to change. If the commercialism bothers you, don't participate in it. If gift giving is too much of a greed-fest for you, give non-commercialized gifts such as donations to a charity, or give time to a cause that's important to you. Your loved ones will appreciate the effort to help others, and they don't have to lug a bunch of junk home that they may not really want.

I realize my rantings are very Christmas/Christian centered. That's because I'm a Christian (who happens to enjoy secular Christmas as well). I'm perfectly ok with it if you disagree with me or have a different point of view, or would rather talk about Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Years, or another holiday. Celebrate this season however you want. I plan to do the same. I'll leave you alone if you will do me the same courtesy. Just don't suck all the fun out of my December because of your hang ups.

If Eggs Are Delivered, Shouldn't it be an Easter Chicken?

There are things about Easter that I don't understand.

I get the religious part of it. For Christians, after 40 days of subdued contemplation (Lent) and a particularly mournful Holy Week, Easter is a colorful celebration of new life. In my church, the lights literally go on and the music suddenly turns from hushed understated vocals to joyful full throttled organ and bells. It makes sense this holiday occurs during spring, when grass turns from brown to green and flowers start to pop out of the ground.

But outside of church, when American culture tries to jump on the Easter bandwagon, I get a little confused.

Secular Christmas, I get. I understand traditions around the winter solstice. I know where Santa originated and how the ancient pagan and Roman celebrations echo through our late December celebrations.

But what does a bunny delivering eggs have to do with Easter? In point of fact, why would a bunny be bringing eggs anyway? If something is supposed to deliver eggs, wouldn't an Easter chicken make more sense?

I suppose someone thought that since Christmas had Santa, Easter had to have some magical character who mysteriously visits in the dark of night, leaving things for children. It's like the Easter bunny evolved to make Christmas's lame holiday cousin more fun.

Yes, I said it. Easter is lame compared to Christmas.

Sure, Easter is liturgically more important, and actually more central to the Christian faith. For most of Christian history, Christmas wasn't even celebrated, or if it was, it was a drunken festival for hoodlums and troublemakers.

But these days, Christmas is the big one. That's when we pull out the stops, decorate our houses, and travel across the country to be with our families.

We try to work up some enthusiasm for Easter, but conjuring a bunny and decorating eggs doesn't quite do it. Even those disgusting marshmallow peeps don't add much more than a stomachache to the party.

Most of us don't get extra time off work. We might make an effort to go to church. Some of us might have Sunday dinner with the extended family. There may be leftover ham and cheesy potatoes during the following week. But Easter ain't no Christmas.

Don't get me wrong. I like Easter. I like spring and watching children hunt for eggs. I like looking at the ladies' hats in church. I like eating ham and cheesy potatoes.

But I don't understand the bunny. If some people enjoy it, that's ok. Maybe someone can explain it to me.

Mary's Tired Feet in the Time of Trump

You think it's tough being a progressive liberal in the time of Trump, try being a Jew under Roman occupation a couple of thousand years ago.

Mary was just a teenager, finding herself pregnant and attached to Joseph who was probably just as bewildered as she was. As if that weren't enough, they had to walk - WALK - from Nazareth to Bethlehem to take part in a census. They didn't have cars in those days, or buses. The mythology presumes they had a donkey, but there is no scriptural evidence of that. Even if they did, one donkey for two people, one of whom was pregnant, wasn't going to speed things up much. As part of an occupied people, they didn't have any choice in the matter. They had to go.

We always see the beautiful creche, so lovely and serene, with angels floating above, gentle farm animals laying about (again, no scriptural basis, except for sheep, which can be inferred by the presence of the shepherds). We don't think much about the walk. The dusty, sweaty walk to Bethlehem and how dirty their feet must have been, and how tired and sore those feet were. Much is made of foot washing in the Gospel. That is why. When you walk everywhere in sandals on dusty unpaved roads, your feet get pretty dirty. Add to that a late term pregnancy. Can you imagine the misery?

And then, to reach your destination only to find that there are no vacancies at any of the inns. Wouldn't that just about push you over the limit?

The storytellers who passed the Gospels down first orally, then in writing, must have glossed over it a bit. After all, this was about the birth of Jesus Christ. It would be unseemly to portray Mary as exhausted and Joseph as grouchy. But if there's any truth to the story, you know they were at the end of their rope when they reached Bethlehem and thought they couldn't go on, only they had to. It had to be a relief to finally be able to take shelter in nothing more than a stupid barn.

I don't know much about childbirth, but I'm sure a barn is less than ideal.

Veneration of Christ as the divine Messiah is all well and good, but the point of the Christmas story is to show that Jesus was born as a person sent by God to live among regular human beings so that we could relate to him, and he to us. If Jesus's mother could have dirty tired feet, if she could be exhausted and even grouchy, then I can relate to that.

Jesus didn't grow up in a royal household, surrounded by privilege and luxury. He probably lived a middle class life at best, educated and cared for, but hardly spoiled. We don't know a lot about his early life, but his parents weren't rich. They most likely worked hard, lost their patience occasionally, but did the best they could.

There were always the Romans to deal with. Those oppressors who would eventually arrest and execute Jesus, who would himself suffer exhaustion, pain, and even death at their hands.

I don't care whether the story is literally true. It's a great story. It inspires me, as it has others for many hundreds of years, to try to keep our own exhaustion, our dirty feet, our pain, our perseverance, and even our deaths, in perspective.

Because it doesn't end there. Jesus's life and death, his exhaustion, his parents' dirty feet, his sacrifice meant something. It reminds us that human though we are, as Jesus was sent as God to live among us, we are made in the image of God to live among each other. He brought, and brings, hope, healing, and love to a broken, suffering world. We are meant to do the same.

I am depressed about what is happening in the world today. To keep from falling into utter hopelessness this week, I'm meditating on Mary's tired feet. How she must have wondered if she could continue. But she carried hope, healing, and love within her. She had to go on.

Phyllis Schlafly Was Pure Evil, But Jesus Loves Her Anyway

Phyllis Schlafly is finally dead.

Ding dong.

She was one of the worst, WORST, examples of a human being claiming to be a Christian I can think of, right up there with Jerry Falwell and others of their ilk. She was notoriously homophobic and anti-feminist. She is most well known for the defeat of the Equal Rights Amendment but she did plenty of other damage as well.

I don't want to talk about her any more except to say that I hated her for the harm she did to people like me and the people I love. I could never forgive the awful things she did and the horrible things she said.

If I believed people could go to Hell when they died, I would revel in the thought of her burning there for all eternity.

But I don't.

A fundamental part of my Christian belief is that God extends grace and salvation to everyone (now whatever that is, whatever that means is open to interpretation).

As one of my friends posted on Facebook today, "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus." Romans 3:23-24.

You see, though I, like Phyllis, have hate in my heart; though I cannot see past my anger and inability to forgive; though I am blinded by rage at this horrible, horrible woman, I realize that God is bigger than I am.

God is bigger than my fear and rage and hate. God's grace is vast enough to encompass and forgive both Phyllis and me in spite of our sin, that which separates us from God's love.

When I calm down, I might pray that as Phyllis transitions into the next phase of her existence, her spite and hate might give way to real peace and love, that the light of true grace might shine where the darkness in her soul once resided.

I might pray the same for myself and all the rest of us as well.

Obnoxiousness Not Limited to Religious Fundamentalists

The only thing as obnoxious as a judgmental religious fundamentalist is an obnoxious, judgmental atheist.

I'm not talking about those with sincerely held beliefs who make a personal choice to live a certain way.  I'm talking about people who think their way is the only way and that those who are different are evil. Crusades to change everyone else run the continuum from Bible-thumping Christian to evangelical vegan. If you don't conform, you are wrong.

While we're at it, let's include self-righteous vegetarians in this list.

Not all atheists and vegans are obnoxious, of course. And some of my best friends are vegetarian. But they accept the fact that I eat meat and I respect their right not to.

I, in fact, am strongly Christian, but I do everything I can to not be confused with the self-righteous evangelical fundamentalists which so dominate the media these days. I just hate it when the "Christian perspective" is represented by individuals who's values contrast so sharply with mine.

Case in point: the media coverage of Caitlyn Jenner, which has been overwhelmingly positive and supportive of her gender transition, often goes to "Christians" for the alternative point of view. Naturally, twits like Mike Huckabee are quoted with their idiotic references to Jenner's sinful motives (as if one would become a trans woman just to see naked girls in the shower) and so on, with the underlying assumption that all other Christians share that point of view.

I couldn't disagree more. In my mind, and in the faith communities with whom I associate, the only acceptable Christian response to gender transition is compassion and acceptance. If the Christian gospels were set in the 21st century, I'm quite sure that Jesus would be hanging out with transgendered individuals as well as others who are estranged from the current religious establishment.

My vegan, atheist, and spiritual  friends and I share common values of justice, tolerance, and global awareness. We share a belief in science and the scientific method. There are more similarities than differences between us.

The Truth Behind the Christmas Myth

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior… He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.”
- Mary, mother of Jesus, in the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 1

Some expected the messiah to come in a huge, apocalyptic ball of fire swallowing up evil doers. Others expected a new King, dressed in a purple royal robe, riding in on a fine white horse with a huge righteous army to overthrow the corrupt government.

When John the Baptist started to publicly repeat the prophecies of Isaiah, it caught the attention of the religious power elite (perhaps the equivalents of our Pat Robertson or the Pope). The idea of a messiah coming to upset the status quo was distressing to them. Their power was threatened. But John was too elated to care what they thought. "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way of the Lord'".

Mary's words in the Gospel of Luke (the Song of Mary, or Magnificat) are meant to be sung. She rejoices in being blessed with the chance to serve God. She magnifies the Lord.

Most mainline American Protestants are not good at expressing faith with outward joy. At best, we might utter a monotone litany of praise.

Rather than reflect quietly on the meaning of it all, we could be moved, inspired by John's and Mary's joy, to proclaim to the world that our Savior is coming to save us from the darkness of sin.

The “S” word.

Please don't cringe or roll your eyes at the mention of sin.

Sin is nothing more, and nothing less, than separating ourselves from God.

This estrangement is at the root of bad things like hate, discrimination, dishonesty, abuse, oppression, racism, all the "isms," - and things less dramatic, like just being so busy that we don't seem to have time to care for the people around us.

As human beings, we are always to some degree, separated from God.

But as Christians, we believe that while we don't always see God or feel God's presence or grace, and though we neglect to remember God through prayer and deed, God never forgets us - God never leaves us.

Of course, life doesn't turn into a fairyland of gum drops and lollipops the minute we remember that God loves us. We continue to live in a tough, churning world. But the knowledge that God hasn't turned a cold shoulder gives us the chance to hope and to have courage and to take steps to overcome the separation. This is grace.

This time of year, we remember the promise that God loves us so much that he sent a simple, human representative to share that grace with us.

Don’t get hung up on whether it literally happened. The truth behind the myth is valid. The story conveys God’s love in a way that we can understand.

Jesus was said to be a simple sandal wearing man, wandering through the country, like John the Baptist, peacefully challenging structures of oppression, upsetting the status quo, caring for the reviled sick and outcast, feeding the hungry, nurturing the poor in spirit with teaching and compassion – things that we should do ourselves, today.

This is more revolutionary than if Jesus were a King with a big army. This is revolutionary because it was and is done without the threat of hellfire. It is done without bombs or violence. In fact, power isn't taken from the authorities as much as it is given to those who never had it before. The power is rooted in the knowledge that nothing, nothing separates us from God.

This message of freedom and love is how Christ continues to live among us. No wonder we are excited.

And our excitement, our elation, like Mary's, moves us to throw up our arms and sing for joy.

We celebrate the birth of a savior who, because we Christians live in his name, because he lives in us, empowers us to share that freely given grace by fighting for justice, working for peace, and living as an example to others.

Our souls magnify the Lord this Christmas. And sincere Christians everywhere, despite our differences, proclaim the coming of a Savior, the triumph over sin, and the anticipation of joy.

Secular Holiday Hijacked by Religious Radicals

Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I am a life-long practicing Christian. I have a degree from a theological school. I go to church every week. I participate in faith-based rituals around Advent and Christmas Eve. I love the beautiful sacred music this time of year.

And unlike the vocal zealots on the news, I have no desire to cram my faith down the throats of those who simply wish to gather with friends and family over some eggnog, exchange gifts, and enjoy some colored lights during this gloomy month.

I contemplated many titles for this entry of BillsWeek:

• Waging Peace in the War on Christmas
• Let’s Take the Christ Out of Christmas
• Jesus is NOT the Reason for the Season

The point is, I’m sick to death of hearing from right wing Christians about the “true” meaning of the holiday and how those who celebrate secularly are misconstruing “the reason for the season.”

Merriment this time of year goes way back before the time of Christ. At least 10,000 years ago in the northern hemisphere, people celebrated the returning of light after the darkest nights of the year.

Light was no trivial matter to these pre-common era people. In Europe, in particular, light meant warmth and the ability to grow food. Light meant survival.

Solstice traditions and festivals evolved into major celebrations. When the Christian church started taking over in the first millennium, these celebrations were seen as dangerously frivolous, probably the work of the devil himself. Universal popularity made it impossible to forbid the festivities, so the church cleverly usurped the time and turned it into a celebration of Christ’s birth.

The timing of Christmas has nothing to do with Jesus’ actual birth. If you are really a fundamentalist, you shouldn’t celebrate in December at all. Indications from the Christian scriptures point to a spring birth (were those shepherds watching over lambs?).

The church still couldn’t subdue the revelry, however. In England, as late as the 1600s, this time of year was marked by major carousing and hooliganism. Respectable people stayed off the streets for their own safety.

In some places, only the Roman Catholic Church celebrated Christmas. Protestants, including those Puritans who so faithfully established some of the original American colonies, distained Christmas. The only reason Protestants began to celebrate Christmas in church was because so many were sneaking over to experience the beautiful Catholic Christmas mass.

So I’d like to invite all those extremists who are offended by the modern celebration of Christmas to celebrate the season in whatever way is meaningful to them. But this is The United States of America. We have freedom of religion here. If we want to visit Santa at the mall, put a plastic snowman in our yard, play hockey with a fruitcake, light a menorah, or observe the solstice in the manner of Pagans and Wiccans, get off our backs.

I think most people are like me: enjoying a combination of religious tradition and secular celebration. But because I don’t want to assume that your beliefs match mine, I will simply wish you:

Happy Holidays!

Diatribe: Being Gay and Christian

I go to work, do laundry, have dinner, watch TV, and pay my bills. But of course, I am gay and that affects who I am.

To me, being a gay man means:

Contentment when my boyfriend puts his arm around me on the sofa. I love to sit in the driver's seat, with him as the passenger in my car, and rest my hand on his shoulder. There's an electric charge when our two pairs of lips touch ever so casually. Being gay is awareness of being sexual. It means being capable of firey attraction and heart-pounding lust and powerful love with other men. But there's more.

Being a gay man means:

Appreciating bright colors. Delight at the newest line of kitchen gadgetry at Crate and Barrel. Being able to tell my coworker that the song, "June is Bustin' Out All Over," is from the musical Carousel, not South Pacific. But I don't fit every stereotype. I'm the only gay man I know who doesn't own an iron. I spend about 5 seconds on my hair every day. And yet I'm gay.

To me, being a gay man means:

I can stand in a long line at Arby's and be unconcerned as strangers watch my gay friend fix my shirt collar.

To me, being a gay man means:

The sweetness of new love, the promise of a long term relationship, commitment to having a life together. Then, bitterness at the failure of a relationship. And the comfort of being reminded that I have just as much right to be divorced as a straight person.

To me, being a gay man means:

Beaming with pride when family members who 20 years ago couldn't say the word gay, not only belong to P-FLAG, but stand as activists and counsel others who suffer the same struggles they once did.

To me, being a gay man means:

Remembering how I couldn't communicate with grandparents about the truth in my life. The closest they ever came to discussing it was once asking of a same sex couple, "which one of you does the cooking?"

To me, being a gay man means:

Having to think about relationships in ways that most straight people just take for granted. Who leads while dancing? Who pays for the date? What are our roles with each other? Should we try to achieve something like marriage or define something new? Should we try to have children? We can't accidentally have them - we have to really want them first, work hard to get them and be committed to them because we can't take for granted that they won't be taken away.

To me, being a gay man means:

Being active in church my whole life. Getting a seminary education. Using my training and talents to teach, write and preach, working like a dog to help the church change the world. But not feeling like I could take my boyfriend to the Sunday School picnic. Realizing that no matter what I've done for the church, my gifts were considered invalid because I am gay. Finally leaving that church behind. Living without church. But yearning for that community. Believing in that vision. Continually called by God to find a new niche where my gifts and training are welcomed and affirmed, my relationships not only acknowledged but celebrated.

To me, being a gay man means:

Driving along a busy street, windows down in the perfect sunny weather, a car full of boys pulling up, yelling "faggot" and worse. Driving faster to get away only encourages them. To shout back could be dangerous. But to then go to church and tell my congregation what happened and to feel their shared outrage and support is to know that there might be some sort of holy redemption and hope.

To me, being a gay man means:

Living with HIV and AIDS, regardless of whether the virus resides in my own body.

I had this conversation on a date: He says,"This is my favorite restaurant. My first boyfriend took me here." I ask, "Do you ever run into him here?" He replies, "No, he's dead." We don't talk about it much anymore, but many of our friends and lovers are gone.

There is grief when AIDS takes loved ones away. I have fear when my own body is weakened by HIV - my energy compomised as a virus tries to undo my health. There is pure rage when families (and for that matter, churches and governments) will not support, care for, or comfort those sick with HIV. But just as often, I see HIV bring out the goodness in people. I'll never forget how proud and touched I was as I watched my mother step in to attend the hospital bedside of a person very sick with AIDS when his own mother would not.

To me, being a gay man means:

Living and loving, as fully as possible, knowing that I am a whole, valued, child of God. I am more aware of my sexuality than nongay men because I have to affirm it regularly. Slowly, gradually, the majority of society ceases to fight me on this. Whereas I was once challenged to educate every single person about myself and my orientation, I now almost take it for granted. Straight people may not approve or understand, but the responsibility is now on them to deal with it. And gradually, I think they might just be starting to get it after all.

Finally, to me, being a gay man means:

Pride. Every last Sunday in June, thousands and thousands of people of all orientations walk, sing, dance, and flounce down East Colfax Avenue. I feel absolutely exillarated because I belong in this diverse community of lively, colorful people.