We enjoyed a wonderful few days at the ocean over Thanksgiving, returning home to begin out Advent rituals ... preparing the house for Christmas, buying the Christmas trees, shopping for presents for the family, finding the seasonal delicacies imported from England and Germany. Decorating the trees is always bitter sweet, with so many memories as we unpack the boxes or trinkets bought and given to us over the years. We still have a few ornaments the kids made for us thirty something years ago—a little worse for wear now, but too precious to discard. It has been our practice to buy one or two new pieces each year, often with a purpose in mind. Each piece has a memory—the little plush dog in remembrance of Candy, our sweet little poodle; the cute tiny teddy Jane found the year her dad Tommy passed; the Christmas throw dated 1996, our second year in the USA. So many memories. So much goodness to think back upon. The annual ritual marks the passing of the years. For me it's always a mellow time—a time to reflect and be grateful.This year, more than others I can remember, our preparations have been disturbed by the pervasiveness of world events—the Paris terror attack, its aftermath and the near panic reaction of world leaders; the Syrian civil war and the continuing rise and threat of ISIL; the ongoing refugee crisis in Europe; more tension in the Middle East than I can remember; domestic terrorism in the USA; continued and aggravated racial tensions and the consciousness-raising of Black Lives Matter; climate change in renewed focus with the Paris climate talks.
The disturbance feels very much like fear, and the world seems to be a fearful place just now.
It had crossed my mind, given all that is taking place, that our preparations for Christmas might be a little crass—perhaps fiddling while Rome burns. But what's the alternative? Cancel Christmas? Hunker down in the fortress after purchasing a handgun or two, just in case? To do so would be to give in to fear. That's a bad strategy. When fear takes hold the likely results are never good. Out of fear, we often overreact, or else act irrationally. People often suffer. In social terms, fear produces something that looks and feels like fascism—authoritarian government (the "strong leader"), restriction of freedom, repression of dissent, distrust of the Other, nationalism ("my country right or wrong"), and scapegoating (blaming the, often innocent, minority). Already in France we are seeing the increased support for the far right Front National party. In the United States gun sales have soared in the past week, share prices in Smith and Wesson are up, and the President of a major Christian University has called for his students to carry concealed hand guns. Fear does that to people.
On reflection, a better strategy in response to fear is faithfulness rather than fascism. But faithfulness to what? Perhaps faithfulness to our highest principles and truest myths, because they express our better selves.
I'm thinking of principles like goodness, kindness, charity, courage, sharing, forgiveness, freedom, equality, and tolerance. When we give in to fear—personally and collectively—those principles often get lost in the panic response to "do something." Whether the "something" is foolish, cruel, ill-advised or simply wrong matters little. Fear is the enemy of goodness, truth, and beauty. An ever present temptation in times of fear is to abandon principles in order to protect those same principles—in effect to put out fire by fire. Faithfulness to our better principles, when circumstances suggest fight or flight, is a difficult, but better path.
Our principles are closely tied to the myths we tell and live by. By myth I mean those stories that tell us profound truths and which shape our self-understanding. The myths I am thinking of in this season are of nativity—"love came down at Christmas," shepherds and angels, and a birth in a stable—of a Dickensian Christmas, with hope for the poor and Christmas plum puddings and goodwill to all; of St. Nicholas, who became Santa Claus, giving gifts to all; of the tunes we hum along to "Winter Wonderland," "I'll be home for Christmas," and "Jingle Bells," full of warmth and kindness. Sentimental, crass, irrelevant? Perhaps. But what an antidote to the cold and lifeless death cults that rule by fear and want us all to tremble at their threats. Better to teach our children about Santa, his reindeers and gift-giving, than to teach them how to fire an AK-47.
If you pay attention to the myths you will find hidden within them the principles of our better selves—goodness, kindness, charity, courage, sharing, forgiveness, and tolerance. Principles are best told in stories, and stories give birth to principles. It's difficult to know which came first: the story that embodies the principle, or the principle that gives rise to the story. Did the principle of generosity cause Dickens to write the character of Scrooge, or has Scrooge given us a story from which we derive the principle of generosity?
If Advent is a time of preparation for the celebration of Light, the Darkness encroaches and threatens to overwhelm. It has ever been such. But how to respond to fear of the dark? By faithfulness to the principles and myths that feed our better selves. So, I shall continue to enjoy the magic of the Christmas stories, the traditions and rituals, and hope for a better world.
+Ab. Andy