Saturday, December 7, 2013

Chapter I: Advent - Reflections on St. Nicholas

Yesterday was the Feast of St. Nicholas. Like many Americans, I know St. Nicholas better in his incarnation as Santa Clause. Unlike most Americans, I never believed that Santa Clause was real. In our family, we considered Santa Clause a game – something for my grandparents to be silly with and have some fun. My mom, in particular, disliked the jolly old elf, and by the time I was 10, he was fairly well banished from our festivities and Christmas décor except for the few gifts which my grandparents signed “from Santa Clause!”

This didn’t scar me. I’m actually quite glad my parents never messed with the foolishness of trying to make us believe Santa Clause was real. Not only would it have taken away from the real meaning of Christmas, it also would have taken away from the fun of the game with my grandparents.

Until yesterday, I had no real knowledge of what St. Nicholas’ Day was. Oh, we listened to the
Adventures in Odyssey episode featuring St. Nick every year, and I think my German roommate after college gave me a little gift on 6 December. In fact, I thought the real Saint Nicholas was from Germany and had lived in the Middle Ages! 

Some very dear friends invited over for my first Feast of St. Nicholas. It was quiet and calm – just the type of festivity I like. They had the table decorated with oranges, sweet cakes, and little Santa Clause figures – and, of course, their advent wreath with only one candle lit. Earlier that morning, Saint Nicholas had left little goodies in their shoes, and they have a precious picture of their little girl, just shy of 2 years old, trying to figure out what an orange was doing in her shoe when she got up that morning!

Before dinner, we read a family devotion in which we thanked God for our church leaders and asked Him to give us a spirit of humility. After enjoying a delightful slice of rum cake made by Pennsylvania monks, we adjourned to the living room to read more about the life of the Saint Nicholas.

Most Protestants shun saints. In fact, the only two saint's days that most Protestants will be familiar with are St. Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day. There are good reasons for Protestant squeamishness. Many of the tales told about the saints are doubtful at best; many are just ridiculous and make a mockery of real miracles and piety. Also, in some streams of Christianity, the practice of commemorating the saints has turned into near-worship in practice, though not in theology. There are definitely some down-sides to commemorating the saints.

Yet I think we miss out some as well. Christianity is more than just a religion – it’s a faith that desires to control everything in the person believing it: religion, spirituality, politics, economics, sociology, romance, and the list could go on. Having cultural days, even if some of the myths surrounding those days are somewhat dubious, is a great part of Christian heritage that many Protestants, especially in America, miss out on.

But this is long beside the point. I promised some reflections on Saint Nicholas and my experience celebrating his feast, and here they are:

#1: I do not pray enough for my Christian leaders. I’m convicted by this today as I think about the reaction I had upon hearing about a sermon given by a very famous west coast pastor in which he told his congregation, 'Some of you, God hates you.... God hates, right now, personally, objectively hates some of you.' Needless to say, I was less than charitable in my response. In fact, I really wanted to pass on a meme of Saint Nicholas punching him in the face.

The thought of praying for him never crossed my mind. Prayer is not easy for me; it never has been. It is not my go-to reaction. I wish it was. The Feast of Saint Nicholas specifically delineates a time to thank God for and pray for the leaders of His Church. I may really, really disagree with some of them – to the point that I don’t identify them as 'mine'. But I should never stop praying for them.

How many conservatives out there pray for Joel Olsteen, Rob Bell, Katharine Jefforts Schori, or other leaders we disagree with? I don’t. And I feel a lot more affection for those leaders than I do for many who are actually closer to my own theology. I’m ashamed to admit I’d much rather spout off about them than pray for them.

It’s a challenge for me: next time I need to critique a Christian leader, I'd like to spend a minute in prayer for him or her first.

#2: I know this one may not be new, but I think a return to the Biblical concept of submission to our leaders, specifically our church leaders, is in order. Again, I’m preaching to myself. Submission doesn’t mean blind obedience. It means respect. It means a willingness to obey if asked to do something appropriate. It means not clinging to my 'rights'. It may mean telling our pastors, 'I’d rather not do that, but I will do if you tell me to.' And it requires us to really trust God that He will provide just the leader we need for where we are and where He wants us to go – even if that means one’s leader is from a different stream, theological persuasion, or political party. But remember: submission can only authentically come after prayer. Submission to a leader whom we aren’t daily lifting in prayer to God is foolhardy and dangerous.

#3: Doctrinal integrity is important, but Christian civility is even more important.* Some people jokingly (I hope) posted memes and comments about yesterday being 'Hit A Heretic Day'. This has its roots in the, probably (hopefully) mythical, story that Saint Nicholas actually smacked Arius across the face during Arius’ presentation at the Council of Nicaea – right in front of Emperor Constantine. I have to admit I find this anecdote amusing, but I think it’s alarming that I find it amusing.

Christians, sadly, know very well how to be uncharitable and mean-spirited. For whatever reason, this often comes out most toward one another. One of the questions one of my favourite professors asked the Church to ask in relation to a certain despised segment of sinners is, 'Whose people are these?' The point was that we often view this particular group of sinners as the 'enemy', yet many of them were actually raised in the Church and may even be Christians. How much more so for active Christians who may have slipped up on their theology? The fact is that, much of the time, they are ours.Yet we are often tripping over ourselves in anticipation of kicking them out of Christianity altogether.

Yes, our favourite heretic, our favourite heretical system of theology, our favourite heretical leader, our favourite heretical book writer, our favourite heretical theologian... they are ours. Orthodoxy is only important insofar as it shows us how God loves us or how we ought to love others - slapping a rival across the face is not exactly 'loving'.

The fact is, Saint Nicholas’ behaviour at the Council of Nicaea had more in common with the Pharisees and the Romans than Jesus or the Apostles. If this story must be told, it should be told with shame and a warning: Christian leaders, especially those faced with the challenge of dangerous heresy, often resort to unchristian means of debating the issues and lambasting the person with whom we are debating (or, worse, about whom we are talking). That is sin, and violates the Second Greatest Commandment.

There was an old Adventures in Odyssey episode called 'Rights, Wrongs, and Reasons' in which Whit plays a game with Connie and another girl dissecting whether things were 'right-right' – that is, whether the right thing was done with the right motive. The point was made that, even with the best of motivations, the wrong thing is still the wrong thing. It doesn’t matter what point of doctrine we are defending or how committed to 'Truth' we are, if we are uncharitable, we have become just as guilty as the worst heretic.

*This entire point has caught me off-guard. When I initially began it, it was designed to discuss how important it is to fight for pure doctrine and hold Saint Nicholas up as a hero for his actions at the Council of Nicaea... I’m not sure how it turned into a condemnation of the action.

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