Do you hear what I hear?

I've always loved Christmas, it seems the whole world is alive with a spirit of something, perhaps the very tiniest whisper of joy echoing down the years from a cold and drafty stable?  Whatever it is, as a child, I remember looking forward to it with an eagerness I could ill-contain.  It wasn't the gifts, I never really got any to speak of.  It wasn't the family gatherings, mine were a mess.  Perhaps, it was the one speck of childish wonder in an otherwise murky existence?  There was something in the food, the inexplicable warmth of friends and family (other peoples, I just got to watch), the lights, and even the snow and stars seemed more bright, stark, and beautiful.  But most especially it was the music.  I loved the old hymns and their strange words and haunting melodies prophesying that 'nails and spear would pierce Him through, the cross be borne for me and you,' even as we sang about and celebrated the birth of this One, 'the babe the son of Mary.'

In college I discovered what it was for a thousand voices to join together in a work as splendid as Handel's Messiah and thought perhaps it was a foretaste of Heaven.  Of course all that is illegal or offensive or politically incorrect or something now.  Even Santa and Frosty the Snowman are controversial nowadays.  They tried for a few years to play insipid Christmas songs about happy christmas trees and santa babies, but now the malls and shopping centers are mysteriously silent wherein years past, that was the whole reason I could tolerate a trip to the local store this time of year.  I am glad the insipid song craze has perished, silence is always to be preferred when good music or conversation cannot be had.  But I wonder what it is all about, for all these folk who theoretically cannot stand even a reminder of St. Nicholas, let alone mention of the Christ child?  Do they still hear those ancient echoes of 'peace on earth, good will to men?'

But why is it offensive?  Why must it be banned from the public sphere?  We have plenty of mythical figures that do not offend and of which we think nothing when we see pillows, folders, and t-shirts emblazoned with their likeness or hear the theme song from the TV show (think Star Wars or your favorite animated character).  Why does this particular myth offend so?  Because it is true and our mortal flesh quakes at the implications thereof.  Like those shepherds of long ago, trembling before a heavenly host proclaiming news they could not comprehend, a joy too terrible to understand, we aren't sure what to make of it all or what it will make of us, if we should listen.  But ignoring it or banning it doesn't make it go away, just ask the Romans.  It has survived empires.  It will outlast the world itself.  Perhaps it is time to dig out those old hymns and actually listen to the words.  It is the mystery of Christmas that I love.  God become flesh, enigma indeed!