With Thanksgiving just behind us
and Advent just begun, the alternative reality’s version of
the liturgical year (ARVLY) is launched. It starts with Thanksgiving
and ends with the Super Bowl—this observation has been shared
with some of you many times.
Another harbinger of the beginning of the ARVLY is the early arrival
of Christmas stuff in stores and malls and even some churches. (On
the front lawn of a Pittsburgh church, the nativity scene has been
in place now for at least a week!). Cheesy Christmas music is inescapable.
The bell ringers are out in force offering us an opportunity to practice
some almsgiving. The US Postal Service daily delivers requests to
me from agencies that range from the Sioux Indians to the Democratic
Party to share my wealth with them.
The social Christmas season is here. The Church’s Christmas
season is still far off. The two are not the same. Try not to confuse
them and you won’t get bent out of shape.
Reports on life in the marketplace state that most merchants make
as much as 80% of their yearly profit on these season sales. It would
be economic suicide for them not to capitalize on the hordes of shoppers
determined to spend money.
Lest we get too huffy condemning filthy capitalists, I not so gently
remind you that these merchants and their employees are the ones who
put their bucks into the Sunday collection envelope, the source of
your salary and mine.
Wedged in these days of blatant consumerism is the ancient and revered
feast of St. Nicholas. He is the St. Nicholas, the fourth-century
sainted bishop of Myra, who provided money to young women for their
dowries. He is often depicted carrying three bags of gold.
(I think it is interesting to note that the coat of arms of the Medici
family displays three gold balls. This family was the big bucks family
of the Italian renaissance. Their coat of arms is the source of the
three balls one associates with a pawn shop.)
He practiced spontaneous benevolence. Of course, his image and persona
were severely distorted in the nineteenth century with the emergence
of Santa Claus, that “jolly old elf” whose belly shook
“like a bowlful of jelly.”
There seems to be a reconciliation of the essence of Santa Claus in
the growing popularity of the visiting of Santa Claus at the parish’s
Christmas crèche.
That is dangerous iconography to have a fictitious figure attached
to the incarnational Jesus. It confuses what is and what ain’t.
Some people might not be able to tell the difference.
So, let Santa hold court in the middle of one of his temples in the
“Visit Santa in the Mall.” Let St. Nicholas preside over
our Advent and Christmas preparations—and that would include
shopping.
Thomas Talley, the learned Episcopalian liturgy professor, wrote in
a back issue of the GIA Quarterly [fall 1991, vol. 3, no. 1] a marvelous
piece on Advent. In his essay he commented that the shopping with
all of its hassles displayed a massive campaign conducted by a large
number of people who are out buying something for someone else.
St. Nicholas would be proud.
St. Nicholas, pray for us . . . because we just can’t wait.
