As always in our time, Christmas is provoking dissent from people
who don’t want Christian symbols on public property or Christmas
carols sung in public schools.
Many Christians find this annoying and churlish. Some even feel that
Christianity is being persecuted.
The columnist Michelle Malkin writes, “We are under attack by
Secularist Grinches Gone Wild.” Pat Buchanan goes so far as to
speak of “hate crimes” against Christians.
I disagree. In some parts of the world, from Sudan to China, Christians
really are being persecuted, even murdered. But what is going on in
America’s symbolic opposition to Christianity is something different.
Sometimes I think the anti-Christian forces take Christ more seriously
than most nominal Christians do. The Western world, including many
of those who consider themselves Christians, has turned Christmas into
a bland holiday of mere niceness. If you don’t get into the spirit,
you’re likely to be called a Scrooge.
The natural reaction to Christ is to reject him. He said so. In fact,
when he was taken to the Temple as an infant, St. Simeon prophesied
that he would be a center of contention. Later he predicted his own
death and told his followers they must expect persecution too.
His bitterest enemies weren’t atheists; they were the most religious
men of his age, the Pharisees, who considered his claims blasphemous — as,
by their lights, they were.
Nice? That’s hardly the word for Jesus. He performed miracles
of love and mercy, but he also warned of eternal damnation, attacked
and insulted the Pharisees, and could rebuke even people who adored
him in words that can only make us cringe.
To many, he was a threat. He still is. We honor him more by acknowledging
his explosive presence than by making him a mere symbol of nice manners.
At every step of his ministry, he made enemies and brought his crucifixion
closer. People weren’t crucified for being nice.
The negative witnesses
Some people think you can take Christ’s “teachings” and
ignore his miracles as if they were fables. But this is to confuse
the Sermon on the Mount with the Democratic Party platform. Chief among
his teachings was his claim to be God’s son: “I and the
Father are one.” “Nobody comes to the Father except through
me.”
His teachings are inseparable from his miracles; in fact, his teachings
themselves are miraculous. Nobody had ever made such claims before,
enraging pious Pharisees and baffling his pious disciples at the same
time. After feeding thousands with the miraculous loaves and fishes,
he announced that he himself was “the bread of life.” Unless
you ate his flesh and drank his blood, he warned, you have no life
in you.
This amazing teaching was too much. It cost him many of his disciples
on the spot. He didn’t try to coax them back by explaining that
he was only speaking figuratively, because he wasn’t. He was
foretelling the Last Supper.
At virtually every step of his ministry, Christ accompanied his words
with miracles. And the remarkable thing is that his enemies disputed
the words rather than the miracles. Of the wonders he performed, there
was no doubt; they attracted, and were witnessed by, large crowds.
It was their meaning that was controversial.
The blind saw, the deaf heard, cripples walked, lepers were healed.
Where did he get the power to do these things? From God or the devil?
He used them to certify his power to forgive sins, the claim his critics — enemies,
rather — first found outrageous.
His claims still reverberate. The Gospels attest the total coherence
of his mission, the perfect harmony between his words and his deeds,
even the careful order of his progressive self-disclosure. His modern
enemies, many of them professed Christians, don’t try to disprove
the miracles; they simply assume he never performed them. And now some
of them assume he never spoke many of the words the Gospels record
him as saying.
This skeptical attack floors me. The poet Tennyson remarked that Christ’s
greatest miracle was his personality. Could anyone else — the
four simple authors of the Gospels, for example — have made him
up, and put such resonant words in his mouth? “Heaven and earth
will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” That’s
another claim that seems to be holding up pretty well.
Such a strong, indeed unique, personality could only meet strong — and
unique — resistance. This is why Christians shouldn’t resent
the natural resistance of those who refuse to celebrate his birth.
In their way, those people are his witnesses too.
The Reactionary
Utopian archives
Copyright © 2010 by the Fitzgerald
Griffin Foundation. All rights reserved. This column was originally published
by Griffin Internet Syndicate on December 23, 2004.
Joe Sobran was an author and a syndicated columnist. See bio
and archives of some of his columns.
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