[Dialogue] Spong on Christrmas. Don't give up! the last to graphs are the key (for me)

[KroegerD at aol.com]

December 20, 2006 
Watching Christmas being  Celebrated in Europe  
This year I watched Christmas dawn in Europe. It provided me with new  
insights into this holy day and an understanding of the state of Christianity on  
the continent as well. In this Christmas essay, I will try to recreate that  
experience for you.  
It began in Scandinavia with a majestic Advent portrait that only Mother  
Nature could paint. After concluding a series of lectures in Norway, my wife and  
I drove with a Norwegian pastor to Rattvik, Sweden, a journey of about six  
hours. It was a cold day with snow falling in the morning, but a sparkling sun  
broke through in the afternoon. Twilight arrives early in the North Country 
so  darkness began to fall about 3:30 p.m. As we navigated those snow-covered 
roads  with metal studded tires, the rays of the setting sun in the west 
illumined the  spruces and pines with their snow-covered branches making them look 
like the  ideal Christmas tree that each of us has always imagined. To top off 
this  incredible scene, the bare silvery birch trees were covered from tip to 
root  with a layer of ice that sparkled in the sun's rays, making a magical 
fairyland  scene. The holiday season could not have been more beautifully 
introduced for  us.  
Later, in Stockholm, we saw the national Christmas tree of Sweden, a giant  
spruce standing at least 120 feet tall, being put into place. The branches of  
the lower twenty feet of the tree had been sawed off so that pedestrians could 
 walk safely under it. It is set up annually at the mouth of the harbor in  
Stockholm to welcome those arriving in this lovely port. Since the city curls  
around the port, it can also be seen from almost every vantage point in the  
metropolitan area. The people of Scandinavia live with enfolding winter  
darkness, so light is terribly important to them. This tree will play its part  in 
hurling back that darkness and shining as a beacon of hope, inviting people  
into its warmth.  
The theme of light is carried out all over Scandinavia. Lighted candles are  
everywhere, in homes and offices. I learned to appreciate the power of a 
candle  more than ever before. Its light is alive, flickering and creating dancing  
shadows, while electric lights are static. Small candles adorned our table at 
 breakfast in each place we visited. Touched by this experience, Christine 
and I  vowed to fill our home with more candle light this winter.  
We Christians call Christmas the Festival of Light. The date for the  
celebration of Christmas was picked, not accidentally I believe, to be in the  center 
of the darkest season of the year, reflecting the northern hemispheric  roots 
of our faith. The winter equinox is also the season of the Jewish winter  
festival called Hanukkah. Behind both of these religious observances stands that  
day that was observed by our primitive forebears, who did not understand the  
patterns of the movement of "heavenly" bodies. They only knew that when 
winter  came the daylight seemed to be swallowed up by an invading power of 
darkness. In  that era the sun was quite frequently invested with divine qualities 
and so, as  winter came, both the sun and the deity it represented appeared to 
be dying.  Then the day came, which we today simply call "the shortest day of 
the year,"  when the relentless retreat of the sun halted and it began its slow 
but  inevitable return making it an almost universal day of worship. 
Christmas and  Hanukkah both catch that theme as part of their message. Throughout 
human  history light shining in the darkness has been a symbol of God, defined as 
the  Source of our life, and has become the object of worship. It might be 
the light  of the sun, moon, stars and even the gift of fire. The lighting of 
candles in  our houses of worship is evocative of so many things in our human 
past and  identifying the Christ figure with light and life indicates that we 
still touch  those ancient roots of our humanity without being fully conscious 
of them.  Watching the season of Christmas emerge in the lands of the far north 
brought  these images once more to my consciousness and forced me to 
understand why the  biblical Christmas story tells of a star that shined in the night 
sky and of a  heavenly host of angels that illumined the world's darkness to 
sing to a group  of common shepherds.  
We went to Germany next for a stop in Frankfurt that, since the partition of  
Berlin after World War II, has grown into Germany's cultural and business  
center. We had a five to six hour layover between trains in Frankfurt, so we  
walked into the old original center of the city with its cobblestone streets and 
 where the main "platz" is surrounded by ancient buildings and several 
majestic  church structures marking the boundaries of the first settlement. No signs 
of  the destruction that occurred in World War II now remain. As we neared 
this  ancient city center, great numbers of people standing with umbrellas in 
the  light rain were waiting expectantly. An ancient well-lit carousel was 
giving  children and a few adults, the thrill of going up and down on wooden horses 
as  they floated in circles with faces glowing. Newly erected booths were 
selling  everything from hand carved Christmas ornaments to German sausages on 
buns with  mustard like American hot dogs. A platform was set up on which 
dignitaries  gathered. Behind this platform was a giant fir tree rising high above 
the crowd,  but still shrouded in darkness. Having no idea what we had stumbled 
into, we  asked two policemen, who told us that the national Christmas tree 
was about to  be lit and a musical festival would soon begin. In less than 
thirty minutes with  one flip of the switch by the Lord Mayor, the tree was ablaze 
with lights and  three spectacular young tenors, probably in their thirties, 
began a Christmas  concert of carols both sacred and secular. Some were in 
Latin (Adeste Fidelis),  some in German (O Tannenbaum), some in English (Rudolf 
the Red Nosed Reindeer),  but all were beautiful. Christine and I, far away 
from home, were touched by  these details of the great Christmas celebration. 
When the tenors took a break,  the festival continued with a brass ensemble 
playing from the rooftop of the  soaring Lutheran Church that bordered this square. 
It was indeed heavenly music.  The Christ symbols were everywhere and the 
peace and love that Christmas seems  to engender the world over, covered us too. 
When the evening was complete, we  went to a nearby restaurant and by 
candlelight we ate a Christmas dinner of  roast goose, potato dumplings and red sweet 
cabbage, all German specialties.  When we walked back to catch our train we 
felt as if we had been lifted into a  kind of timeless wonder, something that 
Paul Tillich might have called "the  eternal now."  
That train took us on to Paris and then to Limoges, the southernmost part of  
our European journey, where our daughter is living and working for a year. 
This  would be the only holiday visit we would have with her so we turned the 
two days  we were together into being first Thanksgiving and then Christmas. 
Limoges  cooperated with our fantasies by lighting their Christmas decorations 
the night  we arrived, but the contrast in the content of the French holiday was 
quite  stark. France is a deeply secular country and religion is actively 
opposed in  official circles. So, search as I did, I never found a sacred symbol 
of the  Christmas season. Trees, yes; tinsel, yes; stars, yes; festive air, 
yes; but no  manger, no shepherds or wise men and no Christ Child. The people 
with whom I  talked indicated that the church was simply no longer a factor in 
French  society. Atheism, they said, was the religion of the French and only a 
very few  still frequented Sunday worship. The cathedral in Limoges was 
basically a  tourist attraction not a place of worship, even though services were 
held for a  few elderly folk. The reasons for this secular mentality are 
complex, but a few  facts might be illumining. The Protestant Reformation never took 
hold in France.  Those who responded to the themes of the Reformation, called 
the Huguenots, were  persecuted, killed or expelled from the country. This 
meant that the dominant  Roman Church in France did not go through any of the 
internal reforms that might  have brought it out of its authoritarian medieval 
style and into dialogue with  the modern world. It therefore, remained at its 
pre-reformation worst as an  institution. It was both dated and insensitive, 
siding with the most  conservative and repressive elements of the French monarchy 
("Let them eat  cake!"). When the pressure for reform erupted in the French 
Revolution, French  Christianity was universally identified as the enemy of the 
people. When the  revolution succeeded, anti-church and anti-clerical 
feelings were rampant. Even  today, with French democracy well established, the 
Church is less a factor in  French life than I have observed it to be in any other 
European country I have  visited.  
Does this mean that religious yearning in France is dead? I don't think so.  
In a conversation with two non-church going adults, both in their 30's, one  
said, "I really love the cathedral here." "Why?" I asked. "Because it stands 
for  unexplained mystery and wonder," she answered, "it seems to call me to be  
something more." She then said: "I believe in God, but not the God I meet in  
church. I sense God in the empty cathedral with its upward sweep. I wish  
organized religion were more like the mystery of an empty but inspiring  
cathedral."  
I've thought about that conversation many times. I suspect others have had  
similar thoughts without having the words to articulate them. I am left with  
that as the Christmas message from Europe. Christmas is still, to many, a 
season  of light, warmth, music, carousels and haunting visions of God who is 
mysterious  but real, symbolized in an empty but awe- inspiring cathedral. Is it 
possible  that the God of literalized scripture, dogmatic creeds and 
incomprehensible  doctrines, based on ancient formulas, has actually served to crowd God 
out of  Church and out of life? Perhaps the truth is that the search for God 
today must  go on outside the church, not inside it. The star of Bethlehem 
shined on the  world not the church. Perhaps individual Christians today are 
called to be the  place where Christ can be found. It is an idea worthy of some 
thought.  
John Shelby Spong _Note from  the Editor: Bishop Spong's new book is 
available now at bookstores everywhere  and by clicking here!_ 
(http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0060762055/agoramedia-20)   
Question and Answer
With John  Shelby Spong 
James Keenen via the Internet writes:  
Please comment on the very recent book by John Danforth, "Faith and Politics: 
 How the Moral Values Debates Divides America" I realize it will take a while 
to  get to this, but I eagerly await your views on his views.  
Dear James,  
John Danforth is a rare combination in American politics. He has been a  
Republican senator from Missouri, the ambassador to the United Nations and an  
ordained priest of the Episcopal Church. He actually served as the clergy chair  
of the Committee to nominate a new Bishop for the Episcopal Diocese of 
Missouri  just a year ago. As a senator, he stood in that wing of the moderate 
Republican  Party that gave us Nelson Rockefeller, William Scranton, Thomas Kean, 
John and  Lincoln Chafee, Susan Collins and Olympia Snow. His one departure from 
that  noble tradition was a significant one when he served as the Senate 
floor manager  for the nomination of Clarence Thomas for his seat on the Supreme 
Court. Justice  Thomas has been undistinguished at best and out of the 
mainstream at worst.  
Senator Danforth's book states what I believe are the core values of this  
nation but he develops them in contradiction to the "values" that seem to  
emanate from America's vocal religious right. His faith is deeply informing of  his 
life and of his public service, but the narrowly focused religious agenda  
that marks today's Republican party is the target of most of his book.  
I believe that the Rev. John Danforth has been an effective and competent  
public servant in both his Church and his political career. His is the voice of  
reason and sensitivity. He escapes the stridency of today's brand of 
politicized  religion that repels me as deeply as it repels him. His book is a solid  
contribution to the current religious and political debate. I wish 
Christianity  could produce more John Danforths and fewer Pat Robertsons. I wish the 
Senate  had more John Danforths and fewer Sam Brownbacks.  
John Shelby Spong  

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