I Definitely Smell a Pork Product of Some Sort

Why, oh why, did I agree to give a talk on the meaning of Christmas? I actually agreed to do this thing. The true meaning of Christmas. What the heck? I mean, I know I'm supposed to talk about Jesus' birth and its theological/spiritual/dietary significance in the Orthodox traditions, and maybe something about when Christmas was first celebrated (336) and where
(Rome) and how we all now do as the Romans, but man alive.

And all I can think of is that blasted South Park 'Spirit of Christmas' video. The real meaning of Christmas?

'Ham?' Cartman asks inquisitively of Kyle, who responds:

'No, it's not *%&ing ham, you stupid *%&^...It's presents, Cartman, presents.'

This bodes no good. I'm going to be quoting Christmas hymns with a giant blowup of the Nativity icon behind me, looking down disapprovingly because I can only oscillate between ham and presents.

Oh, how I do love ham, though. Presents, too, I s'pose. Of course, now that I am all growed up, my wife and I find it simpler to simply pick out what we want. Efficient? Yes. Accurate to my taste? Absolutely. Surprising? Not so much. On the other hand, it has helped me finally stop rattling presents, a habit which always seemed to deeply offend my father.

Ah well, enough of that. Back to this presentation. I'm nervous because it is my first such presentation. I am, as it were, giving a paper. It's a very short paper. And it's not terribly scholarly. And it will have pictures. But it is still a paper, consarnit. Of course, speaking about the theology of Christmas in the Orthodox tradition is easy in one sense: I am not in want of good material to draw from.

The icon alone is so rich I could probably do a whole talk about it without even trying. The cave and the swaddling clothes connect Christmas to Pascha (and, of course, Holy Week) and so suggest that we interpret Christ's birth in light of his death and resurrection. The simultaneous presence of all characters imaginable in the Gospel Nativity Narratives (Mt. 1-2, Lk. 1-2) parallels the hymnography: today the virgin...today the cave...today the earth, the shepherds, the magi, the stars...a newborn child, God before the ages. All things come together in this moment to welcome the Son of God who has become man and taken upon himself the full reality of our nature. This is because all humans, animals, all of creation, have waited anxiously for this moment, and now all of creation will share in God's 'goodwill toward man.'

It is a strange thing, I think, to interpret Christ's birth in terms of his death. It casts a certain pall over Christmas celebration and all that 'Jesus' birthday' stuff people seem to like to do. But, of course, Augustine says of every man's birth: 'It is terminal--he will not get over it.' Birth implies death, as simply as that. Of course, in Christian terms, this implication is the result not of God's creation but of sin's intrusion on creation. Death is not, in that sense, natural. It presents, therefore, something of a theological problem that Jesus died. It means that in the incarnation, God bound himself to death, to that which is entirely inimical to him. Jesus submitted to its power--or rather, as man he did so, while as God he destroyed its power. This distinction of natures acting from the same person, Christ, brings us back to Nativity. It is because of what we hear at Theophany and see at Easter that we can look back to Jesus' birth and say, 'aha! I understand it now.' So we must interpret his birth in light of his death, because his death implies his resurrection, and his resurrection his divinity.

It is also true that by interpreting Jesus' birth in light of his death we commemorate the salvation which we receive by God's Incarnation. The acts of Jesus do not simply demonstrate the object of our worship or simply show us his divinity as something to be remarked upon from a distance. Jesus' ministry explicitly involves us in his life. 'The Father has life in himself and He gives the Son to have life in himself, and the Son gives this life to whomever he wills.' The events which mark Jesus' life come to mark our own. How?

It is not a matter of us being revealed as members of the Trinity or finding a god-consciousness. Far from it. It is rather our participation in the continuing presence of God on earth--the Church--by our participation in its fasts, feasts, commemorations, and, most importantly, its sacraments. We enter into the life of God by receiving the Holy Spirit (Pentecost, Acts), which we receive only within the Church. Thus, our life is bound to God's, and so we become by adoption what Jesus is by nature: sons of God.

Our lives can now have the possibility of reflecting Jesus'. This possibility is open as long as we remain 'in him', That is, as long as we remain in contact with him--in relationship. Again, this is a possibility mediated by the commemoration of the last Supper, by which we enter into Jesus' 'Voluntary and life-giving Passion.' It is initated by baptism, by which we enter into his death and resurrection, modeled first in his baptism which we remember on Theophany. We enter into his birth by the same means, being annointed with the Oil of Chrism, the Oil of Gladness, the oil which makes us christoi annointed ones. We enter into the same mission of evangelisation, the same life of self-giving and worship of God.

This, in a nutshell, is what Christmas holds out to us. It commemorates the day, the moment, this possibility first appeared. Apart from the Incarnation in all its Chalcedonian reality, we have no hope. Within the Incarnation, we have perfect hope. We have perfect life because Christ took our life upon himself and used it to conquer death. We have perfect love because God gave himself entirely for us in taking the form of a man.

If I just draw out these ideas--that the Nativity matters so much because it is now that God joins himself to man and that it is understandable and accessible in light of the death and resurrection of Christ--I should have plenty for twenty minutes.

I may also mention the Nativity Fast, Theophany, and the connection of revelation to redemption. But I'll try not to, you know, go nuts.

I may, however, go nutz.