There is one hard and fast rule in the Mathis Household: There can be no Christmas music until after Thanksgiving Day.
Thus, sayeth the father.
I'm out on an island on this one, I'm afraid. Rebecca grew up in a home where Christmas music played freely and without delay. Like the vast majority of people, Rebecca's family enjoys the sights and sounds of Christmas and doesn't want to delay its arrival. Understandably, they want to maximize the season of glee.
My reasoning for postponing the onset of 'All-Things-Christmas' is motivated by self-interest. Yes, I love November, and I want to preserve the festive, autumnal moment of Thanksgiving. But the truth is, I was born on Thanksgiving Day, and I do not wish my birthday diluted with Ho-Ho-Hos and Elfin-Merriment.
The role of the Grinch will be played by yours truly.
Now, before you impale me on a candy cane, understand that other killjoys will make a theological case for waiting until we 'Deck the Halls.' The season of Advent—that is, the four weeks before Christmas Day—acts as a time of preparation for Christ's arrival. Think of Advent as a kind of count-down to Christmas. For those who are judging me harshly, consider this: Some churches do not play Christmas hymns until Christmas Eve! These churches will argue that a season of delayed gratification is good for our spiritual development.
I know. That's a bit of a hard sale. Especially this year, it is.
Just yesterday, I read in a newspaper that there has been a rush to put up Christmas lights and displays earlier than ever before. Eager to light up their corner of the neighborhood, people want transformation. They're craving the warmth and loveliness of the Christmas season, and they want to step inside their snow globes as soon as possible.
The pandemic, the accompanying grief, and our murderous election season have all conspired to annihilate our collective joy. We desire consolation and recovery. We want light amid the darkness. We want to hope for a brighter future and the assurance of a peace that bears fruit for ourselves and our families.
The prophet Isaiah captures our moment well: "Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins." (Isaiah 40:1-2)
There is good news in Isaiah's pronouncement. Light will scatter the darkness. God, Emmanuel—God with Us—will be our Good Shepherd and will inaugurate a new and glorious day.
Thus, God's people are called to get ready for this moment when God breaks into our world. "In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God." (Isaiah 40:3)
So why not? Why should we delay the distraction of joy that we're all craving? Certainly, it can never be too early to prepare for Christ's arrival in our lives, and to do so with festive lights and a lovely nativity scene.
"Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, "Here is your God!" See, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep." (Isaiah 40:9-11)
So, break the rules. Find your Christmas lights and dust off your artificial wreaths. Polish your porcelain creche and attend to the angel that tops your tree. Cue up Nat King Cole's, 'The Christmas Song,' and air out that hideous holiday sweater you own.
To steal a verse from Johnny Mathis (and songwriter Jerry Herman), "We need a little Christmas."
We do, indeed.
