A Christmas Skit

A Christmas Skit

Santa Claus and a Sunday School Teacher are seated in chairs facing the congregation. A Child is seated in a seat between them. The Child stands up to deliver the first speech.

Child: Everyone talks about “the true meaning of Christmas”--the Christmas specials on t.v. say it’s all about giving, and being with your family--but then everyone acts like it’s all about getting a lot of cool stuff and breaking your diet and not worrying about gaining weight, and for me, it’s hoping that my relatives won’t embarrass me too much this year. But what is it really about?

Child is seated. Santa Claus stands up.

Santa Claus: The meaning of Christmas is really quite simple. Christmas is a holiday for making children happy. Especially good little children. Good little children who listen to their parents, follow the rules and act unselfishly deserve a reward. And bad little children--well … we won’t mention them …

Santa Claus is seated. Sunday School Teacher stands up.

Sunday School Teacher (addressing the Child): Don’t listen to him, young man. Christmas is not about deserving presents and getting them. On Christmas we remember that God gave us a present we didn’t deserve and that present is better than any gift imaginable.

Child (excited): [if a boy] Really? Is it a real helicopter with homing missiles?
[if a girl] Really? Is it a pony with rainbow hair?

Sunday School Teacher: (Sigh) No, it’s Jesus.

Child (disappointed): Oh … rats …

Sunday School Teacher: The gift is that Jesus enters into our hearts, just like he entered the world as a newborn baby at Bethlehem. If you have Jesus in your heart, you don’t need any other gifts.

The Child looks shocked and horrified. Santa Claus rises from his chair in anger.

Santa Claus: What do you mean by that? What are you trying to do here, say that I’m somehow wrong because I think giving and getting gifts is the true meaning of Christmas?

Sunday School Teacher: Well, yes. And to be quite honest, I think you’re disgustingly materialistic. (To the Child) Don’t you agree, young man/lady? (The Teacher takes hold of his/her arm)

Child: Well, um … maybe …

Santa Claus: Of course he/she doesn’t agree with you--he/she wants presents! Just like any little boy/girl would. (Addressing the Child and taking hold of his/her other arm) Isn’t that right?

Child: Well … I don’t know …

(Santa and Teacher ad lib insults cast at each other while pulling the Child back and forth)

Enter Jesus from the back of the sanctuary

Jesus (authoritatively): Just a cotton pickin’ minute!

Santa and Teacher drop the Child’s arms and freeze, gaping toward Jesus as he approaches.

Santa and Teacher: (Gasp) It’s Jesus!

Jesus: Yes, it’s me. And it looks like I got here not a moment too soon.

Teacher (shyly): We were just talking about--

Jesus: I know what you were talking about. I am Jesus, after all. And you, Santa, ought to be ashamed of yourself.

Teacher (loudly whispering to Santa): I told you your outlook is greedy.

Jesus: I never said he was making children greedy. Santa, you know what your sin is. You said just a minute ago that you give presents to good little girls and boys, didn’t you?

Santa (sheepishly): Well, yes, I did …

Jesus: And which children get the most presents? Is it the children who are the most obedient to their parents? Is it the ones who are the least selfish?

Santa: Well, no, not exactly …

Jesus: Then who is it? Who gets the most and the best toys?

Santa does not answer; he stares at the floor and scratches his head awkwardly.

Jesus: The wealthiest children get the most and the best toys. And what about the poorest children?

Santa: Well, if poor children are very good I do a special Christmas miracle, you know--I make sure that by my magic, an especially virtuous orphan or abused child will somehow receive just as great of a gift on Christmas as normal middle class children do.

Jesus: Oh, sure, Santa. Come on. We’re not talking about Christmas Specials on t.v. here, we’re talking about the real world. In the real world, on Christmas Day, orphans grieve for their parents even more than almost any other day of the year, and abused children get slapped in the face, or much worse, by their intoxicated parents.

Santa: I know, Jesus, but if we put that on t.v., it would just make people depressed--and who wants that during the holiday season? Holidays are a time for joy and celebration.

Jesus: Oh, yes, I know that--I’m not trying to dampen your holiday spirits--I’ve been known to be quite the “party animal” myself. If you don’t believe me, read Matt. 11:19. So of course I don’t mean to take away any of your joy in celebrating with family and friends.

Teacher: But, Jesus, then you must mean that the joy comes from within, from inviting you into our hearts, with the willingness of the virgin Mary, who bore that precious little baby on Christmas Day.

Jesus: Well, I do have to admit, I was a very cute little baby. And you’re right that, in a sense, I want to repeat the miracle of the incarnation in everyone who follows me. But you guys keep distracting me from what I came here to tell you today.
The Christmas scene I was born into was not one of comfort and security. It was not a warm, cozy middle class household. There was no roaring fire and no mashed potatoes with gravy on the first Christmas day.

Santa: I’m sorry, Jesus--if I’d’ve been around back then, it would have been different!

Jesus: I doubt it. Like I said, Santa, your rare, one-shot Christmas miracles have done very little to help working-class families like mine. And this is the point I’m trying to make here. That my incarnation is more than something to just give you all a sense of wonder and awe at the mystery of it. I came here, I became a human being, so that I could take on the likeness of people you call immoral or sinners: the tax collectors, the drug dealers, addicts and alcoholics, the prostitutes. I came here for the impoverished, broken families pungent with the stink of evil and despair. I was not born an infant so that I could be cute and adorable, but because I was willing to give up everything for people who are in need. And I mean, really in need.

Sunday School Teacher: But, um, Jesus, you said I was right, about welcoming you into our hearts, didn’t you?

Jesus: Yes, I did. And when you welcome me into your heart--that is, when you become part of my body, my church here in the world--that means you will be continuing my work. That means having compassion for the sinners, the outcasts, the poor, and bearing my light and my message of forgiveness and grace to the dark world into which you all, also, were born.

Child: Um, Jesus?

Jesus (kindly): Yes, child?

Child: I’m sorry, but I’m a little lost--what is the real meaning of Christmas?

Jesus: Christmas is about my incarnation. It’s a reminder that I came into this world, and that I am still here, in human form. I was born as a human being in Nazareth, and I am in you when you are in my love. Having my love in you means love for your family, your friends, and also for people you dislike, or are afraid of, and especially for people who are poor and suffering. Christmas is a time for enjoying and celebrating this love and forgiveness as you share it with your family and friends, and also, I hope, with people who are really in need. Does that answer your question?

Child: Yeah, I guess … but it’s still okay if I get excited about presents, right?

Jesus smiles big and gives the Child a hug.

Jesus: Yes, of course!

Santa picks up a sign with the words “THE END” written on it. Characters all stand, bow and walk out.

Grief [not serious]

My glorious sandals finally bit the dust. I've had them since I was 13. I feel a great sadness--they were like faithful friends over these significant 8 years. And what's more, I've been reduced to wearing the flip-flops I've had since I was eleven. (I admit they are about a half size too small.) They're fine for slipping on as you take out the garbage, but after a while, they chafe.

*Sigh* ... it's hard saying goodbye to old shoes ...

(Not) Asking Questions

Since I've been in graduate school, I'm not sure if I've asked a single question in class. I do think of questions, but they're always things I'd rather figure out for myself than have the prof. explain to me. I suppose that's kind of the way graduate school ought to be. And also, I'm more interested in hearing what my peers think about subjects.

I do wish the format of these classes was less of the "classic" pattern--prof. lectures, students ask questions, prof. answers. I wish there was more class discussion--with not just profs., but also students answering other students' questions. And brainstorming sessions. And in Family Therapy and Pastoral Counseling, we could practice in small groups the kind of therapeutic exercises we're learning to use with people seeking counseling.

One of my classes is more like that. The first hour and a half is lecture, and then the second hour and a half is small group stuff. (Yes, that's three consecutive hours of classtime. Ugh!)

Well. Now I've just got to figure out how to try to get some changes going ... I doubt the current generation will ever change stripes. But maybe. Who knows?

orientation week

It's orientation week here at Fuller. One thing I've noticed about orientations--whether for college, seminary or a new job--is that they sure make people act weird. It's understandable. We've all been in some way uprooted. Many have left behind a support network of family and friends. Everyone is nervous, awkward, trying to look good and impress. Many people come off as overly confident, posturing, anxious to find their place in the pecking order.

It may not bring out "the worst" in people, but it certainly reveals an unflattering side.

The Mermaid Chair

My grandmother lent me a copy of The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd. If it belonged to me, I would have torn it to shreds, gnashed bits of it with my teeth, contemptuously spit on the rest and burned the remains. Like what I did to a couple of the “Left Behind” books--though for different reasons.

My main problem with The Mermaid Chair is that it glorifies the protagonist’s adultery, making it out to be some kind of unavoidable, courageous, live-giving act. The way adultery is portrayed so often in books and movies, it would seem our culture doesn’t consider it to be, necessarily, a bad thing. But it is. And to call evil good is a vile injustice.

If someone were to write a book or make a film wherein the protagonist is having a mid-life crisis, and decides to bravely throw caution to the wind, and allow his desire to overtake him and rapes a 16 year old girl, then slashes her to death, thus freeing himself from the shackles of a monotonous marriage and coming to that wondrous realization that he can do something that will surprise himself--oh, yes, and he has no regrets, because the act made him feel so “alive”--if someone, as I say, wrote such a thing, people would be utterly disgusted. And they would know how I feel about The Mermaid Chair.

it figures ...

So, this afternoon I noticed there was a yellow light on on my laptop that I'd never noticed before. It turned out to be a little switch that enables the computer to detect and connect to a wireless network. As it turns out, all the time we've been living here, we could have connected to a wireless network for free, and instead we've been using a slow dial up connection.

Man. Ignorance is not bliss. Oh, yes, and of course, we are leaving on Tuesday. Well ... 4 days to enjoy wireless internet is better than none.

idol worship

People often say that idolatry in modern times means “putting anything in the place of God”--and people talk about how their career or their spouse or their own comfort becomes their “idol.” This makes the term “idol” very useful for thinking about sin in our lives.

But I think the original, intended meaning of the term is lost that way. When the Hebrew Scriptures talk about “bowing down to Baals” they mean paying obeisance (praying to, offering sacrifices to, and literally bowing down before) a carved image.

I think the carved images people were worshipping typically were meant to represent some awe-inspiring force in nature--like the cycle of the seasons, birth and death, sex, life-giving rainfall, sun and earth. The idea of worshipping any of those forces is foreign to Americans.

It may be because we are so far removed from the physical processes whereby such natural forces sustain life. The sun, rain (or rivers) and dirt are still responsible for giving us food, but we don’t feel that reality with our hands (sowing seed, turning soil) nor with our stomachs (full in times of plenty, empty during a drought)--instead, we go to the grocery store. We never worry about the grocery store running out of food. We’re not part of the process of food being grown and harvested or slaughtered.

We’ve even separated the act of sex from the cycle of birth and death. Nowadays, with birth control and modern medicine, sex is no longer necessarily an activity which is likely to result in birth and/or death for the woman and/or her child.

So, in 21st century America it would seem that the awe-inspiring forces of nature have been reduced to abstractions, trivialities (“I hope it’s sunny so I can go to the beach Saturday”) and inconveniences (“Oh darn; it rained, and the parade was canceled”). So, we don’t really have a problem with worshipping idols.

Of course, our way of life leads to problems of its own. It seems that part of what the Hebrew Scriptures teach is that instead of worshipping blocks of wood or stone that we ourselves carved into images, we should recognize that the true creator and author of the earth and its fullness--the person who’s actually responsible for sending the life giving rain and the terrifying snow storm is YHWH, the God of Abraham, and of Isaac and Jacob.

So, it would seem if we’re not even inspired to worship of nature, we may have a hard time giving God the worship that is his due. I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe we just are more inspired by intellectual, interpersonal or cultural stuff that gives God glory, since that’s what our lives revolve around.

I only slept for 3 hrs. or so last night. My insomnia was probably due to anxiety/excitement about our impending move. Ack! So much to do, still!