The days were very cold, and they were growing shorter. On each afternoon's walk my shadow looked longer. Several difficult problems had made my mood as somber as the setting. One by one the Christmas decorations began to appear—tinsel, wreaths, lights. Yet these did not brighten my outlook.
For some time Christmas had not been my favorite season. The mounting excitement, the relentless merchandising, the tinkling of carols, all seemed like a mockery of anything truly satisfying. Since I avoided secular merriment, I thought I was honoring the spiritual sense of Christmas. But in actuality I looked forward to the undemanding gray of January and simply ignored Christmas.
This year, however, I had occasionally been reading individual books of the Bible. As I turned one morning to the Gospel of John, the opening verses moved me. I read of the Word that was God, the life that was the light of men, the light shining in darkness, the word made flesh. At first I felt only the glory of the advent of Christ Jesus. But this made me want to feel differently about Christmas.
I was especially struck by John's assertion "And of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace." John 1:16. As a Christian Scientist, I considered myself a faithful disciple of Jesus and longed to express more fully the spirit of Christ, Truth. But how often I felt as though I were trying to emulate the Exemplar from a standpoint far removed from his, one that possessed hardly any grace. Yet John linked the Saviour's appearance with the coming of grace to all. As I pondered this passage it occurred to me that my seasonal gloom was less the result of others' materialism than of my own. I needed a new sense of Christmas, one more open to the Christ, God's message of good to humankind.
To human perception, of course, Christmas celebrates the appearance of an infant born amid the humble creatures in a stable, with shepherds and wise men arriving to pay homage. The child, who was proclaimed the Saviour, brought to earth goodness so wonderful in could only be of God.
But what is the deepest import of the Saviour's mission? Does Christmas only mark the beginning of a wonderful but brief interruption of life as usual by an otherworldly power, as is often assumed?
For the first time Christmas seemed compellingly meaningful to me. I saw the nativity as uncovering primal reality; as revealing God's man; as opening the way for men and women to discover their true selfhood to be spiritual.
The Gospel of John, studied in the light of Christian Science, shows us something new and different about Jesus' appearing and mission. We're told that the Word was God. In its very nature the Word, that which is spiritual, could not intervene in its opposite, that which is material. But divine Life, God, could not remain forever hidden. It must break through the mistaken sense that existence is material, as light destroys darkness. Spiritual reality must assert itself over the entire belief that life is finite, prone to suffering, sickness, and eventual annihilation.
In the first Christmas, then, supernatural power did not come to a material world. Rather, through the life and works of the Way-shower, Life broke through the mortal ignorance that constitutes a material realm. As Mary Baker Eddy, the Discoverer and Founder of Christian Science, says in The First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany, "I celebrate Christmas with my soul, my spiritual sense, and so commemorate the entrance into human understanding of the Christ conceived of Spirit, of God and not of a woman—as the birth of Truth, the dawn of divine Love breaking upon the gloom of matter and evil with the glory of infinite being." Miscellany, p.262.
If the advent of Christ Jesus was in fact the showing forth of spiritual man and creation, the implications for all men and women are enormous. It means that the holiness and dominion he manifested so fully are available to all. Because Jesus appeared, we can see what it means to be created by God. We glimpse the grace that, as John proclaims, must be our heritage too.
What a difference this made! For the first time Christmas seemed compellingly meaningful to me. I saw the nativity as uncovering primal reality; as revealing God's man; as opening the way for men and women to discover their true selfhood to be spiritual. It showed me the grace possible for me.
Details that to my uninspired thought had seemed no more interesting than a routine holiday pageant were now deeply moving. Mary's selfless acquiescence in the unprecedented angelic announcement, the sheltering stable in a bustling town, the humble shepherds and the wise men drawn by an unusual star, the dreams that told Joseph of the child's holy origin and of the need to seek safety in Egypt—all illustrated to me the way in which God's holy order asserts itself. Spiritual reality penetrates the darkest, most fixed earthly conventions.
This new understanding of the nativity made powerfully plain to me the demand truly to become a disciple of the Master. We are not really mortals wistfully hoping—or stolidly refusing—to rise above a discouraging fleshly nature. Our selfhood in reality is spiritual. We are able to follow the great Exemplar because the grace he perfectly illustrated is also our heritage. Ultimately, we have no choice but to follow him, because the spiritual birthright he fully manifested is also ours. In fact, the same holy power that forwarded the nativity impels our own discipleship. Stirring our thought, it breaks the tranquilizing illusion that life is a matter of worldly expediency. It quickens in us the spiritual sensitivity, courage, and humility through which real, spiritual identity becomes substantial to us.
There was no apathy or cynicism in my remembrance of Christmas that year. Even the most familiar carols, sung by a spirited church congregation, seemed rich in meaning. The problems concerning me began to seem less concrete, and as spiritual reality broke through, they were increasingly proved to be insubstantial.
The true meaning of Christmas is so profound, so magnificent, that material sense would always diminish it with tinsel and triteness. But no trivialization of the season can alter the revealed fact that man is spiritual. This is God's incomparable gift to humankind. It arouses us to put off the dullness, fear, and selfishness that would root us in matter, and to put on the dominion and holiness that are rightfully ours. We are truly able to follow the Master because we can progressively surrender fleshly thinking for the grace that belongs to all the sons and daughters of God.
Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord. And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God and the Father by him.
Colossians 3:16, 17
