I thought for a long time about whether or not I should write this post. I'm not sure I can do it and avoid edging into the judgment and slander side of how I feel. I'll try my best not to sin.
A friend invited me to a Christmas play at a church in town this last week, and I went because I like my friend and I like plays. A good combination, no? As soon as the choir came out to rev up the audience with some "Christmas Carols" (I'll explain the quotation marks in a minute), there was an incongruity in me. I felt totally alien from this church culture. Even though they are my brother and sisters, I felt uncomfortable and foreign. The choir, with outrageously large grins sang songs I'd never heard before about the Christmas spirit, hating fruitcake your friends make for you as a gift, and forcing your spouse to put up thousands upon thousands of lights even though he's afraid of heights. I felt no Christmas spirit. I felt amazement at the array of glittery, Christmas-treed sweaters (I thought it was a joke at first). I felt appalled at the blatant gender roles and subtle negativity towards women (as bakers of said rejected fruitcake waltzing around in frilly aprons and as drill sergeants of said trembling husbands). I felt baffled by the rampant consumerism in the props and multiple costume changes for the maybe 50 actors. I did not feel Christ honored.
The play went through the various ways that (British) Christians have celebrated Christmas historically, as a means to change the cold heart of the protagonist, a man too busy and cold to see the true meaning of Christmas. He comes around eventually, and asks the female protagonist to tell him more about her faith. The story was fine, if a little fluffy. The performance was fine too. There are some talented actors and singers. But it felt like a false front - I wondered where the poverty of Mary and Joseph came into play in the buying of gifts, the glittery outside, and the superficial carols. I wondered how many widows and orphans could have been fed and clothed with the money spent on costumes alone. I wondered if the audience left with any true Awe and Gratitude that the Mighty King came down to be born as a cold, poor, crying baby for their sake. I wondered what the pastor acted like when no one was looking.
And it made me grateful to be in the church community I'm in - where I can be genuine in joy or sorrow or fallenness. Where I know who my pastor is - for his strengths and struggles - and how the money is spent. I am thankful for our striving for meaning and truth. I am mostly thankful for our focus on Christ.
I recognize that, in the words of my friend, I am a Judger. It's a good thing I worship a God who redeems even that and who turns my sin into prayers for humility, centeredness, and gratitude. And our kids' Christmas play is this Sunday - maybe I'll feel the same way. Maybe I'll realize that my relationships with the little actors makes all the differences.
