It’s that time of year again. The time when I complain about holiday music. To be clear, I love Christmas carols. In other words, music that is about the birth of Jesus and the joy we experience in that. Songs like O Holy Night and Breath of Heaven always bring tears to my eyes. I carry my CD player all over the house so I can sing along at the top of my lungs.
What I don’t like are the holiday foolishness that passes for Christmas. I don’t want a hippo or my two front teeth, I don’t want to sing about Santa Baby or wanting to be home for the holidays. This isn’t the season of falling in love. I don’t mind an occasional White Christmas or songs that reference snow, but not too often.
I know this sounds scroogey, but I hold on tight to the real meaning of Christmas, which includes the joy of giving, wonder that God would become human, the fulfillment of God’s dreams for us, deep gratitude. We don’t focus on that enough. We need to keep Jesus and love and generosity in Christmas.
Which doesn’t mean that I only say Merry Christmas. Part of God becoming incarnate is a reminder to love everyone, especially those who don’t believe what you believe. There is no worse way to convey the love of Christ than a snarly and judgmental greeting.
Fundamentally I pray with Joy to the World and O Little Town of Bethlehem. They express through word and tune the fullness of my heart in this season. I don’t want to be distracted by secular expressions that have nothing to do with the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us.
I try not to be crabby about it. But in case anyone needs reassurance, I really do not want a hippopotamus for Christmas.