Perceptions from a Pewboy

This was the title of my Christmas Eve sermon this year: “Bing, Bowie, and a Baby in a Manger.” Allow me to explain.

Back in the 1970’s, I spent a good portion of my December watching all of the Christmas specials that the three major networks televised throughout the season. There were the children’s Christmas specials: Rudolph, Frosty, the Grinch, and Charlie Brown. Everyone knows about those. But there were also the family Christmas specials that were hosted by a variety of celebrities.

If you are not old enough to have experienced the 1970’s, this may be a bit difficult for you to understand. But the cultural and social climate of the 1970s created an environment that made it possible for nearly half of the celebrities in Hollywood to host a televised Christmas special. For example, on December 8th, NBC might televise the “Dean Martin Christmas Special,” featuring special guests Sammy Davis Jr. and Raquel Welch. On December 12th, ABC might televise the “Perry Como Christmas Special,” featuring special guests Jim Nabors and Rosemary Clooney. On December 16th, CBS might televise the “Andy Williams Christmas Special,” featuring special guests Lena Horne and the Osmond Brothers.

Bob Hope hosted a Christmas special. So did Johnny Cash. So did John Denver. So did Sonny and Cher. My goodness, back in 1978, even R2D2 and C3P0 hosted their very own Christmas special! These Christmas specials were all about the same. There were Christmas songs, performed amidst holiday settings, that were as colorful as they were cheesy. There were holiday skits that were maudlin enough to tug at the audience’s vulnerable heartstrings. And normally, every special concluded with the host and all of the guests singing one of the “night songs”—either “Silent Night,” or “O Holy Night,” thereby bringing the entire production to a poignant closure.

The king of the celebrity Christmas specials was none other than Bing Crosby. In the 1960’s and 70’s, Bing Crosby hosted 15 Christmas specials, the last of which was televised in 1977, shortly after Bing’s death. The most noteworthy thing about Bing Crosby’s final Christmas special is that it featured a guest appearance by David Bowie, the eccentric and somewhat androgynous rock star who was at the height of his popularity in 1977. Bowie’s appearance on Bing’s Christmas special was no doubt an intentional effort on the part of network executives to bridge the cultural and generational gaps that were developing between older and younger members of the television audience.

The most remembered segment of that 1977 Christmas special was a duet between Bing Crosby and David Bowie. The duet was preceded by a carefully choreographed skit that went something like this: The doorbell rings. Bing Crosby answers it, only to find David Bowie at his door. David Bowie explains that he’s a neighbor living down the road and that he needs a piano so that he can practice his music. Bing Crosby invites David Bowie into the house, they exchange pleasant conversation about their families and the celebration of Christmas, then they make their way over to the piano, upon which happens to be a lovely Christmas duet: Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth. They sing it together.

It was a significant moment of television history that many people continue to describe as the bridging of a chasm that had never before been bridged—specifically, the chasm between the world of the classic crooners and the world of rock and roll. Bing represented the big band era. Bowie represented loud guitars, crashing drums, and cryptic lyrics. Bing represented cardigan sweaters. Bowie represented tight pants and make-up. Bing represented “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas.” Bowie represented “Ground Control to Major Tom.” Bing and Bowie, in other words, represented two entirely different worlds that were so different from one another and so often alienated from one another that it had come to be believed that there could be no common ground between them.

And yet, in a simple moment of Christmas music, the worlds of Bing and Bowie intersected in a way that was as significant as it was poignant. A simple Christmas duet became a cultural bridge between two worlds that were thought to be irreconcilable.

Perhaps part of the reason why Bing and Bowie’s duet is on my heart at Christmastime is that I find it to be a good metaphor for the kind of bridge-building that took place on that first Christmas night, 2000 years ago. I say that because, when we dare to look beneath all of the romanticized notions that we might have of the Christmas event, when we dare to travel beyond our sanitized nativity sets and our comfortable Christmas carols, what we find in the Christmas story is a God who brought together two worlds that were thought to be irreconcilable. Think about it this way: Bing and Bowie bridged the alienated worlds of crooners and rock and roll stars with a single duet. Far more impressive, however, is the way in which the God of the Ages bridged the alienated worlds of divinity and humanity with the birth of a single child.

That, after all, is the mind-boggling good news of the Christmas story, isn’t it? Somehow—and that word “somehow” is the right vocabulary to employ here, if we are going to maintain an appropriate sense of wonderment—somehow, in the mystery of gracious divinity, the God of the Ages traveled from eternity to the present moment; somehow, the God of the ages traveled from a heavenly throne to a Bethlehem manger; somehow, the God of the Ages traveled from divine accoutrements to human skin.

Why? Why would God make that kind of trip? Well, that question is answered in a single verse of Scripture, a verse that many Christians memorize when they are very young: “For God so LOVED the world, that he gave his only Son.”

Why would God make the trip from divine accoutrements to human skin? Scripture would have us to believe that God made the trip Because God loves us that much. “In fact,” God proclaims “I love you so much that I am willing to become the bridge. I am willing to come to you in Christ, because I know that you cannot come to me. And I refuse to allow your sin to keep us apart. I refuse to allow the alienation of your disobedience to prevent us from being in right relationship. Therefore, I will become flesh, thereby bridging the chasm between us that you on your own are not able to bridge.”

Back in 1977, Bing and Bowie built a bridge between alienated musical worlds by singing an unexpected duet. 2000 years ago, the God of the Ages built an infinitely more significant bridge between divinity and humanity by wrapping himself up in human flesh, thereby making possible a redemptive duet of salvation, sung by both the angels of heaven and the children of earth. I’m still celebrating that good news as I make ready to enter into a new calendar year.

I confess that I am somewhat of a sentimental fool when it comes to Christmas cartoons and Christmas movies. Tara and I own a good number of them on DVD and watch them every year around this time. One of the things that I have noticed about many of the best known Christmas cartoons and movies is the way in which they often revolve around expectations that are either shattered or, if not shattered, then radically redirected.

In “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, for example, Charlie Brown expects to be despised and humiliated when his sickly Christmas tree bows under the weight of a single ornament. But his expectations are radically redirected when he discovers that the other children have decorated his tree in such a way that the tree becomes something beautiful.

Charlie Brown expected failure. What he found was an unexpected success.

When Bob Cratchit arrives at the offices of Scrooge and Marley on the day after Christmas, he expects to find the same parsimonious and abrasive Ebenezer Scrooge that had been there every other day. But Bob Cratchit’s expectations are radically redirected when he discovers that Ebenezer Scrooge has had a conversion experience, one that inspires him to raise Bob Cratchit’s salary.

Bob Cratchit expected the same old Scrooge. What he found was an unexpected new man.

When the Grinch steals all the presents and decorations from Whoville, he expects all the who’s down in whoville to cancel Christmas. But his expectations are radically redirected when he realizes that the who’s down in Whoville are singing all the louder on Christmas Day.

The grinch expected sadness. What he found was unexpected joy.

In it’s a wonderful life, George Bailey expects to be arrested when he arrives at his home. But his expectations are radically redirected when he realizes that his friends have collected money on his behalf. George Bailey expected imprisonment. What he found was unexpected friendship.

And in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, Clark W. Griswold expects his 25,000 imported Italian twinkle lights to light up. But his expectations are radically redirected when, with the entire family standing on his front lawn, he plugs in the lights and nothing happens.

Clark W. Griswold expected bright lights. What he found was darkness.

So many of the best known Christmas cartoons and movies, you see, revolve around expectations that are shattered, or, if not shattered, radically redirected. Maybe that should come as no surprise to us. Because, after all, the story at the heart of Christmas, is a story that also revolves around redirected expectations. My hunch is that thousands of people in first century Palestine expected their messiah to manifest himself as an heroic military leader or as a radiantly majestic monarch. But their expectations were radically redirected when the Messiah arrived as an infant in swaddling clothes. Some were expecting a General or a King to come out of the messianic arrival. What they found was a vulnerable child.

A portion of Christmas music with which I am familiar puts it this way:

Some were expecting, some were expecting a militant Lord.
Who came with an army and ruled with a sword.
And some were expecting, some were expecting a dazzling array
Of bright lights and banquets and brilliant displays.
But God chose the silence, God chose the silence of a Bethlehem night
When he gave us himself, and he gave us his light.

I am thankful for a God who is not limited by the boundaries of our often myopic expectations.

Is there a song in your heart these days?

Although I do not have any hard statistics to support what I am about to write, my sense is that Christmas is the most musical season of the year. The world about us may offer other occasions for music throughout the year, but those occasions tend to involve only selected groups of people in isolated places. During the Christmas season, however, it seems that the majority of the population chooses to sing—or at least to listen to the singing of others.

This reality can hardly be described as a surprise. The Christmas good news, after all—the coming of a Savior—is far too glorious to be confined to the spoken word. Rather, the good news of Christmas demands the rhythm, poetry, and vibrancy of our richest and most diverse music. Only the tones, chords, and melodies of music can give adequate expression to the mystery and miracle at the heart of our Christmas celebration.

I wonder if the angels sang when they communicated with the shepherds on that first Christmas night? I wonder if the shepherds hummed a tune of praise as they walked back to their flocks after seeing the Christ child? I wonder if Mary and Joseph sang some sort of lullaby to their baby boy? It wouldn’t surprise me if they had. It was the kind of night that called for music.

In the 1989 film “Christmas Vacation,” Clark W. Griswold (played with staggering dexterity by Chevy Chase) and the entire Griswold family offer some noteworthy life lessons in the unfolding of that film’s familiar narrative. Some of those life lessons are these:

IT IS ALWAYS TIME FOR PRAYER (even when stuck under a moving truck):
Clark: “We’re all right! Thank God we’re all right!”
Ellen: “Clark, we’re stuck under a truck!”
Clark: “Do you honestly think I don’t know that?!”
Ellen: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. And forgive my husband. He knows not what he does.”
Clark: “Amen!”

IT IS GOOD TO CAPTURE A SIGNIFICANT MOMENT (even when Audrey’s eyes are frozen):
Clark (standing with his family in the frigid cold forest in front of their newly discovered Christmas tree): “The most enduring traditions of the season are best enjoyed in the warm embrace of kith and kin. Thith tree ith a thymbol of the thpirit of the Grithwold family Chrithmuth.”

POLITENESS GOES A LONG WAY
Clark: “Your mother waxes her upper lip?”
Ellen: “She has for years.”
Clark: “Hmm. Doesn’t show.”

ALWAYS BE READY TO DISPLAY PASSION FOR YOUR VOCATION
Bill: “What’s that new thing you got over there at food and drug?”
Clark: “Oh, the Crunch Enhancer? Yeah, it’s a non-nutritive cereal varnish…what it does is it coats and seals the flake, preventing the milk from penetrating it.”
Bill: “Yeah, it’s a beautiful product.”
Clark: “Yeah, I like it.”

A FAMILY CAN SHARE INTIMATE MINISTRY TOGETHER
Grandma Nora: “Sweetheart, your Grandma Nora’s got a real painful burr on my heel. If you rub it for me, I’ll give you a whole quarter. Okay?”
Russ: “A quarter?”
Grandma Nora: “And I’ll give Audrey a quarter too. Audrey!”

IGNORE THE CYNICISM OF OTHERS WHEN INVESTED IN SOMETHING IMPORTANT:
Margo (while watching Clark decorate his house): “I hope he falls and breaks his neck.”
Todd: “I’m sure he’ll fall. But I don’t think we’re lucky enough to have him break his neck.”

NEVER FORGET FROM WHENCE YOU CAME
Grandpa Clark (in front of the brightly lit Griswold home): “It’s a beaut, Clark!”
Clark: “Thanks, Dad. You taught me everything I know about exterior illumination.”

LEAVE A TENDER MOMENT ALONE
Grandpa Art (in front of the brightly lit home): “The little lights are not twinkling.”
Clark: “I know, Art, and thanks for noticing.”

BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY
Grandpa Art (to little Rocky): “Have you got a kiss for me?”
Eddie: “You better take a rain check on that, Art. He’s got a lip fungus they ain’t identified yet.”

NEVER TRY TO PREDICT THE MYSTERIOUS MOVEMENT OF GOD’S HEALING GRACE
Grandma Frances: “Oh my gosh. [Ruby Sue’s] eyes aren’t crossed anymore.”
Eddie: “That’s something, ain’t it? She falls in a well, eyes go crossed. She gets kicked by a mule, they go back to normal. I don’t know.”

ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE SURPRISED BY JOY
Eddie: “You surprised [to see us], Clark?”
Clark: “Surprised, Eddie? If I woke up tomorrow with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn’t be more surprised than I am right now.”

ANIMALS DESERVE OUR TENDER CARE
Eddie (looking at his dog, Snots): “He’s cute, ain’t he? Only problem is, he’s got a little bit of Mississippi leg hound in him. If the mood catches him right, he’ll grab your leg, and just go to town. You don’t want him around if you’re wearing short pants if you know what I mean. A word of warning though: If he does lay into you, it’s best to just let him finish.”

WASTE NOT, WANT NOT
Eddie (as Clark cuts the turkey): “Save the neck for me, Clark.”
Clark: “Okay, Eddie.”

CHRISTMAS IS BEST SEEN THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD
Clark: “Hey kids. I heard on the news that an airline pilot spotted Santa’s sleigh on its way in from New York.” (The children’s eyes light up with excitement around the table.)
Eddie: “You serious, Clark?”

IT REALLY IS THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS
Clark (upon opening what he thinks is his Christmas bonus): “It’s a one year membership in the jelly of the month club.”
Eddie: “Clark, that’s the gift that keeps on giving the whole year.”

WE’RE NEVER TOO BUSY TO BE HEALTHY
Clark (upon discovering a squirrel in his house): “Where’s Eddie? He usually eats these things?
Catherine: “Oh, not recently, Clark. He read that squirrels were high in cholesterol.”
Clark: “Thank you, Catherine.”

ALWAYS HAVE ONE ANOTHER’S BACK
Grandpa Clark: “Squirrel!”

THE BRIGHTNESS OF CHRISTMAS IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
Clark: “It’s the Christmas star, and that’s all that matters tonight. Not bonuses, or gifts, or turkeys, or trees. You see, kids, it means something different to everybody. And now I know what it means to me.”
Uncle Lewis: “That ain’t the friggen Christmas star, Gris. It’s a light on the sewage treatment plant.”

ALWAYS SEE THINGS THROUGH TO THE END
Clark: “I did it!”

I hope that this list adds to your enjoyment of the holidays. And, please, save the neck for me.