La Noche Before Christmas

I've had this buried away somewhere for a while, and found it again here. I read it to my Jr. High Bible class today, and it passed the "that's pretty cool" test. Enjoy.

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS! FELIZ NAVIDAD!
By Lalo Guerrero, 1956

Twas the night before the Christmas, and all through the casa,
not a creature was stirring - caramba, que pasa?
Los ninos were all tucked away in their camas,
some in vestidos and some in pijamas.
While mama worked late in our little cocina,
papa had dozed off before the nublina.
The stockings were hung with mucho cuidado,
in hopes that San Nico would feel obligado
To bring all the children, both buenos and malos,
a nice batch of dulces and other regalos.
Outside in the yard there arose such a grito,
that I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito.
I ran to the window and looked afuera,
and who in the world do you think that it era?
St. Nick in a sleigh and a big red sombrero
came dashing along like a crazy bombero!
And pulling his sleigh instead of venados,
were eight little burros approaching volados.
I watched as they neared, and this quaint little hombre
was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre:
Ay, Pancho! Ay, Pepe!, Ay, Cuca! Ay, Beto!
Ay, Chato! Ay Chopo! Maruca! y Nieto!
Then standing akimbo with his hands on his pecho,
he flew to the top of our very own techo!
With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea,
he struggled to squeeze down our old chiminea.
Then huffing and puffing, at last in our sala,
with soot smeared all over his red suit de gala
He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos,
for none of the ninos had been very malos.
Then chuckling aloud, looking very contento,
he turned like a flash and was gone con el viento.
And I heard him exclaim, and this is verdad,
Merry Christmas to all! Feliz Navidad!

Are we troubled with him?

"Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.” When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. " (Matthew 2:1-3)

I’ve wondered at times what is meant by the last statement in this passage – “and all Jerusalem with him.” It’s easy enough to understand why Herod would have been troubled by this news. Herod had a clue, however faint, of the threat this “King of the Jews” represented to his authority.

But why was “all Jerusalem” disturbed with him? We’re talking about the Jews, who were looking eagerly for the appearance of their Messiah. Why would the fulfillment of their greatest hope have been troubling to them? It’s particularly ironic that Jerusalem joined Herod in being troubled, since he stood as the most prominent representation of the bondage from which they awaited deliverance. Perhaps, even though they were ruled over by Rome, their preference at the time was to endure whatever hardships that involved in order to maintain some sense of peace; whereas the arrival of a new King might create too great a shift for that peace to survive.

I wonder also if this sense of trouble had something to do with the way the news was announced. The magis’ statement was not, “Where’s that cute little baby with the glowing head? For we saw his picture on a card, and have come to gaze serenely at him.” The Magi had come looking for a King – someone who not only posed a threat to the authority of a Gentile king, but who would claim absolute authority over the Jews, thereby disturbing whatever remnant of peace they were currently clinging on to.

The question then becomes, what about us? Do we find ourselves troubled by the entrance of a king into our lives? Do we fear that it will shake things up too much, or inconvenience us in a way we’re not prepared for? Do we prefer Baby Jesus over King Jesus? I fear that often, we would rather constrain the role of Jesus to a nice little Christmas gift from God, who brings us seasonal cheer but doesn’t claim the absolute right to rule our lives.

This Christmas season, even as we consider the wonder of all that God did in sending His Son for us, let’s carefully avoid any attempt to take Jesus off His throne and put Him back in the manger. Let’s trust Him to rule our lives, and even to shake them up as He sees fit, for our good and His glory.

The Postmodern Express

I recently watched The Polar Express with my kids. In case you haven't seen it, the movie is a computer-animated, Christmas- (or holiday-) themed movie about a young boy’s crisis of faith. The quality of animation was excellent, it was reasonably entertaining (even for an adult), and its essential message would have made the devil smile.

When the movie starts, the unnamed boy hero is evidently trying to determine whether his parents have lied to him about the existence of the jolly old elf, when a locomotive shows up out of nowhere. The conductor invites him to come aboard for a trip "to the north pole, of course!".

He boards the train, and has a series of movie-extending adventures in the process of getting to the important part, where he's supposed to meet the big guy at the north pole. But when Santa is about to make his grand entrance, the hero comes to the disturbing realization that he can't hear the bells on Santa's sleigh. And as Santa emerges to greet his worshipful elf-slaves and a few select kids, the hero realizes that as hard as he tries, he can't see the guy. Now at the height of his crisis, hero squints his eyes, flexes his psychological muscles, and forces out, "I believe!". At which point the magical music of the sleigh bells becomes perfectly clear to him, and Santa himself approaches him in plain view.

To draw a conclusion at this point could be considered premature. To say that hero was creating a reality that was true for himself alone might legitimately be called conjecture. Except that I kept watching.

A few minutes later, when the priveleged kids are boarding the train for their trip home, the conductor punches each child’s ticket in such a way that the punch-pattern spells a particular word. One child’s ticket is punched with the word “learn”, to remind him not to be such a know-it-all; another’s is punched to read “lead”, as the conductor has seen in her certain leadership qualities that should be developed and used. When hero’s ticket is punched, the life-defining word given to him was “believe”. Then the conductor said this to him (this is the kicker): “Thing about trains is, it doesn’t matter where they’re going; what matters is deciding to get on.” In other words, it doesn’t matter what you believe, so long as you believe it sincerely. This was the primary message of the movie, and it was a strategically veiled promotion of the faith-component in the philosophy called postmodernism.

My concern with this movie is NOT that it promotes some sort of belief in Santa Claus. That's a subject for another post, maybe. My concern is with what the movie says about faith. The kind of faith promoted in the Polar Express is decidedly postmodern, and is completely incompatible with the biblical concept of faith. Biblical faith has unseen reality as its object; postmodern faith alledgedly creates unseen (personal) reality by its own power. For all practical purposes, the movie doesn't even promote the idea that Santa exists. But it does promote the idea that he, or anything else, can exist for you if you simply choose to get on the train.

Frankly, I'd rather throw myself in front of it.