The Boogey Man And Christmas

I’ve had some clever ideas in my time.

For instance, it once occurred to me that figure skating would reap a much larger television market share if patches of thin ice were hidden around the rink. Just imagine the potential for excitement: “She’s attempting a double axel with a—uh oh! Her chance at a gold medal just disappeared into freezing water.”

Similar logic could be applied to other lagging small screen genres. Imagine women’s daytime talk shows hosted by those guys from Duck Dynasty or morning news panels demanding nuanced, balanced and thoroughly researched answers from pundits.

Yeah, right.

Adults construct fantasy worlds every bit as elaborate as those concocted by children at play. In my version of NCAA football (on XBox, naturally), Nebraska wears pink uniforms and mighty Western Illinois won the Big 10 title for the third year in a row, lead by Heisman trophy quarterback Franz Kafka.

XBox users can change player names, alter uniforms and even give them new hairstyles. In my virtual world, every member of the Crimson Tide sport mullets.

Talk about your misspent adulthood. But I’m not alone.

Grown-ups concoct some interesting alternative realities. Some find boogey men in imaginary spaceships hiding behind comets or in contrived conclusions based on the skimpiest understanding of Mayan calendars. Others compare modern life against a fantastic “good old days” era, one whitewashed of racism, poverty, drug addiction or other very real problems.

Many accept such wild ideas as fact.

Instead of imaginary friends, however, adults are more likely to believe imaginary threats. And so even highly placed, dapper adults sink into the surreal.

Civil War general George McClellan famously insisted he was outnumbered on Virginia’s peninsula when his 100,000 or so faced a column about a quarter his size. He refused to accept facts stating otherwise issuing from the army’s front line commanders.

During the recent presidential campaign, I heard the “Obama wants to make us a socialist country” mantra from several corners, often voiced with sincere concern—notwithstanding the lunacy of such statements. Although a president can shape policy, only Congress determines the law of the land. Besides, our Constitution asks the government to provide for “our common defense” and promote our “general welfare.”

To what extent is ultimately determined by officials elected by the voting population.

Leaders of the National Rifle Association religiously confront any attempt to limit semi-automatic weapons or Teflon coated bullets. Ban them, they cry, and soon we will soon outlaw gun ownership outright. Of course, they also point out that gun ownership is written into the Constitution and therefore almost impossible to scratch from our list of rights.

So what’s the problem? Oh, yeah—fantasy worlds.

Oftentimes, these adult distortions begin with the recognition of inconvenient fact.

In the political realm, inconvenient truths can be obscured by a chorus of loud voices. Josef Goebbels, Nazi Germany’s propaganda chief, observed that if you shout a lie long enough, people start to accept it as fact. The idea was not original to him, nor did it die with him.

America’s growing multi-cultural identity presents the opportunity for some to create invisible adult boogey men and shout them until many people believe. On the streets of New York you can hear 800 different languages. The nation includes patriotic Christians, Jews, Muslims and citizens of other faiths. Up to ten percent claim no religion at all.

Bill O’Reilly discovered in this a “war” on Christmas.

Yes, a few well publicized challenges to nativity scenes on public grounds, the rise of an inclusive greeting like “happy holidays” and other random outbursts (the handful that call for “holiday trees,” for example) have occurred as the nation adapts to its growing diversity.

Things change over time. Change, in turn, tears at our former securities both real and imagined. The friction that arises from this often causes some to lash out.

But O’Reilly’s fantastic interpretation of change apparently caused him to renounce his faith. “It is a fact that Christianity is not a religion,” he said. “It is a philosophy.”

I doubt Jesus would see it that way. Sure, anyone is welcome to live by his teachings—that is, to be guided by the philosophic elements. To truly believe that Jesus is the son of God who suffered and died to redeem our sins, to seek forgiveness through the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, well, that by definition is religion.

Sorry, Bill.

This time of year I wish those living out angry fantasies would allow the rest of us to enjoy the spirit of Christmas.

Oh, there is a basis in fact. The emphasis on gifts, Santa Claus and other secular elements does tend to obscure the Christian message. These challenges have been around for more than a century, though. Clement Clarke Moore’s much loved poem, “A Visit From St. Nicholas”—you know, “Twas the night before Christmas”—first appeared in 1823, after all. By the turn of the century, newspapers were assuring children that “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”

On the other hand, religious scholars agree that Jesus’ birth occurred on some other day, most likely in the spring. The early church settled on December 25 for many reasons, including the fact that it was already long established festival period.

There may be smattering of naysayers out there, anxious to erase the heritage of a Savior’s birth. A majority of Americans, however, identify with the Christmas holiday. And most who care little for the religious aspect hardly wish to interfere with the goodwill it brings.

Not much of a war; more like a patch of thin ice or an imaginary monster under the bed.