"UU Contributions to Christmas"

A Sermon by the Rev. Daniel Charles Davis

For the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Winston-Salem, NC

December 24, 2006

Christmas is a very accessible holiday, for at its core is the birth of a child. There are stories of angels, stars, and wise men, but all pale in comparison to a baby in a manger – a baby, the most fragile form of humanity. Each of us has been a baby, weak and vulnerable. But our apparent weakness is deceptive…when you stop to consider that each of us contains the potential to save the world. Unitarian Sophia Lyon Fahs wrote:

For so the children come
And so they have been coming
Always in the same way they come born of the seed of man and woman
No angels herald their beginnings
No prophets predict their future courses.
No wise men see a star to show where to find the babe that will save humankind.
Yet each night a child is born is a holy night,
Fathers and mothers sitting beside their children’s cribs feel glory in the sight of a new life beginning.
They ask, "Where and how will this new life end?
Or will it ever end?"
Each night a child is born is a holy night
A time for singing,
A time for wondering,
A time for worshipping.

This poem is read in almost every UU fellowship every Christmas. I thought it was our own little addition to the Christmas tradition. Then I found out that UUs have made more than a small contribution to Christmas. Among those contributions are the popularity of Christmas trees, the story of Scrooge, the image of Santa Claus, and "Jingle Bells."

Charles Follen was a German immigrant to this country who taught at Harvard and became a Unitarian. He brought one tradition from the old country, and a Unitarian writer named Harriet Martineau wrote the following story about it in 1835.

THE FOLLEN CHRISTMAS TREE, 1835
by Harriet Martineau
from Retrospect of Western Travel (1838)

I was present at the introduction into the new country of the spectacle of the German Christmas-tree. My little friend Charley and three companions had been long preparing for this pretty show[. . .] The tree was the top of a young fir, planted in a tub, which was ornamented with moss. Smart dolls and other whimsies glittered in the evergreen, and there was not a twig which had not something sparkling upon it [. . .] It really looked beautiful; the room seemed in a blaze, and the ornaments were so well hung on that no accident happened, except that one doll’s petticoat caught fire. There was a sponge tied to the end of a stick to put out any supernumerary blaze, and no harm ensued. I mounted the steps behind the tree to see the effect of opening the doors. It was delightful. The children poured in, but in a moment every voice was hushed. Their faces were upturned to the blaze, all eyes wide open, all lips parted, all steps arrested. Nobody spoke, only Charley leaped for joy. The first symptom of recovery was the children’s wandering round the tree. At last a quick pair of eyes discovered that it bore something eatable, and from that moment the babble began again. They were told that they might get what they could without burning themselves; and we tall people kept watch, and helped them with good things from the higher branches. When all had had enough, we returned to the larger room, and finished the evening with dancing[. . .] By a little after eleven Charley’s father and mother and I were left by ourselves to sit in the New Year. I have little doubt the Christmas-tree will become one of the most flourishing exotics of New-England.¹

Charles Dickens was an English Unitarian friend of Harriet Martineau, and he also wrote about the Christmas tree:

I have been looking on, this evening, at a merry company of children assembled round that pretty German toy, a Christmas Tree. The tree was planted in the middle of a great round table, and towered high above their heads. It was brilliantly lighted by a multitude of little tapers; and everywhere sparkled and glittered with bright objects [. . .] Now, the tree is decorated with bright merriment, and song, and dance, and cheerfulness. And they are welcome. Innocent and welcome be they ever held, beneath the branches of the Christmas Tree, which cast no gloomy shadow! But, as it sinks into the ground, I hear a whisper going through the leaves. "This, in commemoration of the law of love and kindness, mercy and compassion. This, in remembrance of Me!"²

But Dickens is most remembered for his story of Scrooge and Bob Cratchet and Tiny Tim. In A Christmas Carol, Scrooge felt that Christmas was a humbug – which was actually the prevailing opinion of the day. Most Christians thought the winter celebrations were too tainted with paganism to be fit to honor the birthday of Jesus. But Scrooge did not celebrate any happiness in life. He did not spend money on the poor. He did not even spend money on himself. He was consumed with obtaining wealth and thought of any enjoyment as silly.

Scrooge was visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present, and the Ghost of Christmas Future. And the next morning he awoke with joy, having learned that Christmas is for giving and sharing.

In many of his books, Dickens showed a concern for the poor, and in this season especially we must remember those less fortunate than others. This month I was made aware of a prayer written by Ina J. Hughes for the Children’s Defense Fund that reminds us to care for each precious child. Here is an excerpt:

We pray for the children […]
who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can’t find any bread to steal,
whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We pray for the children
who spend their allowance before Tuesday,
who throw tantrums at the grocery store and pick at their food,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed […]
who squirm in church,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at and
whose smiles can make us cry.
We pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who aren’t spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep.
We pray for children who want to be carried
and for those who must,
for those we never give up on and
for those who don’t get a second chance.
for those we smother [...]
and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.

All of us are born helpless and are saved by the goodwill of those around us. Christmas celebrates the birth of the Child Jesus, and many carols of the season sing promises of peace. Those promises seem empty in the face of today’s suffering. We cannot look back and hope that magic will save us; we can only be saved if we realize the miracle of each and every child.

Edmund Hamilton Sears, a UU minister, wrote "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." He writes of the special night that Jesus was born, but he also writes of the broken promise of Christmas:

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long,
Beneath the angel strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love song which they bring:
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing!³

As we celebrate Christmas, we must listen for the echo of angels. The song of peace is heard only when we choose to sing it. The night that each of us was born was indeed a holy night. We are the angels we are waiting for, children and former children join in the song of salvation: Peace on the earth, goodwill to all.