December is here. Many of us in Canada are busy preparing for Christmas.
Statisticians tell us that the majority of people in Canada are no longer Christian. Almost every world religion is represented in our population. Many claim no belief in God at all, yet still the stores gear up for Christmas.
Have you ever wondered why the general public celebrates Christmas? Ever felt as if they’re taking over our Christian celebration? I did—until one Christmas Eve about twenty years ago, when an experience changed my attitude completely.
That year I planned to tell Mary’s story—a monologue I had written from the perspective of Mary, the mother of Jesus on Christmas Eve at my church. To add to the magic and the reality of the story, I wanted a real baby to play Jesus rather than a doll. Since I needed to hold the baby while I told the story, the child had to be younger than three months. At the time, we had no babies in our congregation.
One day, while having lunch with a friend, she proudly announced that her newest granddaughter, Taylor, had been born the day before. Perfect, I thought. She agreed to ask her son and daughter-in lay if Taylor could take part in our Christmas Eve service. Her parents didn’t attend church, but they loved Grandma and were delighted to show off their new little girl.
On Christmas Eve, when it was time for me to begin, Taylor’s dad placed his precious two-week-old daughter in my arms. The lights dimmed. I stepped into the spotlight. Silence filled the sanctuary—deep, complete, holy.
I began, “Just look at my baby. Isn’t he beautiful?”
The moment was magical. The silence was broken by the cries of Taylor’s three-year-old brother, “That’s not your baby! She’s my sister!” Tears poured down his cheeks. I stopped my story, walked over to him, and gently reassured him that I was only borrowing his baby sister. I would give her back when I was finished.
That night, after the service, I reflected on the little boy’s pain. Of course, he didn’t want me to claim his new sister. He was excited about her. He had waited a long time for her.
And then it struck me: when I complained about everyone celebrating Christmas, I was reacting just like that little boy. That’s not your faith. Christmas isn’t your celebration. It’s mine because I’m Christian.
I needed to remember that Christmas is not mine to own. Christmas is God’s gift to the world. Jesus came to teach us to love, to be kind, to pursue justice, to live humbly and gratefully. He didn’t ask whether we believed before offering his love.
Of course, everyone wants to join the celebration. Christmas brings joy. For this one season of the year, we are friendlier, more accepting, more loving. We meet people in the stores and on the street, we smile, we wish them Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. We gather as families—even travelling long distances—we smile at strangers, we think of those who have less, and we share what we can. Some of us even come to church.
There is something about Christmas that draws out the best in us. I’m glad so many of us celebrate Christmas in Canada.
(The rest of the story, “That’s Not Your Baby”, is found in Janet Stobie’s Christmas short story collection, “Can I Hold Him”, available from her website www.janetstobie.com)