Birth of Jesus

One brisk winter day, Fred and Jim were helping to set up the nativity scene for the Christmas pageant.  Fred was going to be playing Santa that night, just as he did every year at home for his children.  He enjoyed seeing their amazed looks, their acceptance of Santa as an old, intimate friend, and how they believed so easily in spite his own obvious absence each time.  “They believe because they want to believe, he thought, “and they trust their parents to tell them the truth.”

Jim had his own problems.  As he placed the baby Jesus into the manger, he couldn’t help wondering if the Christmas story was just as fake as the plastic doll, the animal cut-outs, and the children in bathrobes with towels wrapped around their heads.  Ever since his wife Cynthia had died ten years ago he had slipped into a skepticism turned cynicism.  His wife was gone; he couldn’t feel her with him any more than he could feel God’s presence.  Everything was gone, but his children.  He made no pretenses about Christmas.  He asked what they wanted for Christmas and then went out and bought it.  It was still a secret, but there was no talk about Santa.  Little Susy had asked if Santa was real.  Without thinking he had just blurted out, “No, and get back from the tree or you’ll knock something off.”  He looked away trying to ignore his daughter’s expression as if she had just been slapped.  What was worse was that he feared if she had asked him about the baby Jesus he might have said the same thing.

Jim watched as Fred readjusted his Santa hat that he wore all around at Christmas time.  “He really gets into this stuff,” Jim thought as he remembered seeing Fred’s house the night before.  You can hear the tinny sound of Jingle Bells coming from the glowing Santa with the reindeer whose nose is blinking.  There are so many lights on his house it’s a wonder planes don’t come in for a landing.  Fred was also the narrator for the pageant and would read the Christmas story.  He always read with such feeling and with such a sense of mystery that you felt he was revealing hidden secrets from the Dark Ages.

“Say, Jim,” Fred began, “do you really believe this stuff, I mean, that he’s real?’

“Well, of course he’s real.  Don’t you tell your kids that?”

Jim hesitated, “Sure.  But some people say he never existed, that it’s all a bunch of stories.”

“We know he existed,” Fred countered, “and now his spirit lives on in our hearts.”

“So you don’t believe that he is still alive, but that he just ‘lives on in our hearts?’”

Fred adjusted his hat again and, curling his thumbs around this suspenders, said in a deep voice, “At Christmas time, I am him, Ho, Ho, Ho!”

Jim stared at him in bewilderment, “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” Fred returned.

“I’m talking about Jesus.”

“What?”  Fred was totally lost as if he had just woken up in the middle of a movie.

Jim explained, “I asked you if you believed all this stuff about Jesus, his birth and all,”

Fred was just beginning to get on the same chapter and verse.  “I thought you were talking about Santa Claus and I was saying how there really was a St. Nicholas and that his spirit of giving to children still lives on in our hearts. I wasn’t talking about Jesus.  How could you think I was talking about Jesus?”

Jim was now beginning to feel a little defensive.  “It seems to me that if we tell children there really is a Santa Claus and there really is a Jesus, how are they going to know the difference when they grow up and find out there really isn’t a Santa Claus.  And then when they get older and their spouse dies and they begin to wonder if there really is a Jesus.”

The light went on Fred’s head — a Christmas tree light in Fred’s case.  “Jim,” he began, “the tradition of Santa Claus and my belief in Jesus Christ are two very different things.  The one is just for fun.  Kids are smart enough to know the difference.  My kids know it’s me at Christmas time, but they suspend their disbelief and enjoy the time.” 

He moved closer to the little wooden manger and took off his hat.  “I have no doubt that Jesus lived, and I believe that he truly lives on.  I suppose sometimes I believe because I want to believe and other times because I must believe.  But eventually I always find that what I experience in life confirms to me that my faith in the Gospel stories is right.”

In spite of the cold of the auditorium, Jim felt a warmth deep inside him.  He smiled as he thought of the Christmases he had shared with Cynthia, how they had sung carols around the Christmas tree, and she had read the story of Jesus’ birth.  For a moment he sensed her near, the feeling that she wasn’t really gone.  There was more good in remembering her than in trying to forget.  He knew also that he did believe the Bible, what it taught about Jesus and all.  He had only forgotten what it meant.

Jim snatched the hat away from Fred and put it on.  “Come on, we need to finish up.  Santa still has some more presents to buy!”

For some people, their feelings about Jesus are not much different than how we talk about Santa Claus.  When they get older they sort of grow out of the Sunday School stories and face the harsh realities of life.  Even people who still believe the stories sometimes forget what it all means in their lives.

I don't know of any serious scholar today who argues that Jesus did not really exist.  Not only would you have to disbelieve the Christian sources, but others as well.  The Jewish historian Josephus, for instance, writing near the end of the first century, mentions Jesus:

About this time there lived Jesus, a wise man, if indeed one ought to call him a man.  For he was one who wrought surprising feats and was a teacher of such people as accept the truth gladly.  He own over many jews and many of the Greeks.  He was the Messiah.  When Pilate, upon hearing him accused by men of the highest standing among us, had condemned him to be crucified, those who had in the first place come to love him did not give up their affection for him.  On the third day he appeared to them restored to life, for the prophets of God had prophesied these and countless other marvelous things about him.  And the tribe of Christians, so-called after him, has still to this day not disappeared. (Antiquities, 18.63)

Although historical critics argue how much of this text is genuine, other than the part about being the Messiah, there is no reason to doubt its authenticity.  In addition, we have the writings of Roman authors such as Pliny, Suetonius and Tacitus.  Jesus is referred to in the Jewish writings.  In the Mishnaic tractate Shabbath (104), Rabbi Aquiba (early second century) described his encounter with a follower of Jesus: "Once I was walking in Sepphoris (a city near Nazareth), and I met Jacob of Chepat Sichnin, and he said to me a word of Minuth (a Christian teaching) in the name of Jesus Ben Pantiri, and it pleased me."  As you may know, the word "Ben" means "son."  It was customary for the Jews to designate Jesus like this as a way of defaming him, bringing into question the legitimacy of his birth.

We have then independent corroboration of the basic facts about the historical existence of Jesus from hostile witnesses.  Historians, whose job it is to be skeptical, accept much less evidence for other historical personages.  Even though the gospels were written by followers of Jesus, we should be fair and give them the benefit of the doubt, and listen to their stories, not so much demanding modern critical standards of history, but understanding the story that unfolds and the meaning the authors are trying to get across.  Most of all, hear the voice of God's Spirit as he teaches us and touches us with the message of the gospel.

When I create a document in the computer that will be sent to a printing company to be printed in full color, I have to send them color separations.  The computer will print a separate page for each color of cyan, magenta, yellow and black.  From these four colors, the printing press creates the full color images.  The gospels are like that.  We take the four gospels and from them create a composite image of who Jesus is.  If we look just at the Gospel of Mark, for instance, we wouldn't know anything about Jesus' birth nor much about his resurrection.  If we only read the Synoptic Gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke, we would miss the wonderful miracles and messages of Jesus that the Gospel of John presents

For some people who claim to be Christians, the historical Jesus is of little interest to them.  They merely use the name of Christ to refer to the divine essence.  It would not really matter much to them what name you used.  You might as well use the name of Santa.  There is very little relationship between the Christ to whom they pray and the Jesus described in the Bible.  The Christ who brings the power of love and healing and forgiveness in our lives is the Jesus that the Bible tells us was born in Bethlehem, who was the miracle wrought by God, announced by angels, and worshipped by the lowly shepherds and the exalted magi alike.  It is He who came as a light to the Gentiles and for the glory of Israel.

There's nothing wrong at Christmas time in Santas and reindeer and Christmas trees.  Maybe we could do with a little less fruitcake, but most of the Christmas traditions are outlets for the joy we experience remembering the birth of our Savior, Jesus.  We soon will be taking down the decorations and gradually remove all the vestiges of Christmas, the needles and the tinsel, but our adventure in faith continues as our relationship with the baby Jesus matures.