By Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation on December 23, 2012.
Virginia O’Hanlon’s question “Is there a Santa Claus?” . . . posed over 100 years ago . . . is one that is still asked by children today . . . children who are growing up, perhaps too fast.
Yet, then and now, “Is there a Santa Claus?” is more than an inquisitive child’s question. It’s also a serious adult question . . . a metaphorical question that in just the last few days has taken on a dimension of despair as we consider last week’s brutal massacre of 20-young-children and six adults . . . a massacre carried out by a 20 year-old man who was armed to the teeth with semi-automatic weapons and massive amounts of ammunition.
It’s a question that goes right to the heart of our brightest hopes and our darkest fears. It’s a question that has painfully and importantly forced open the doors to our very souls . . . doors behind which are found all the vulnerabilities of our faith.
“Is there a Santa Claus?” translates into “Is there a God?” Is there hope for humanity and a better world? Can love prevail? Or is our world too skeptical – too cynical – to believe in these things?
This tragedy has compelled me to once again reexamine my own faith . . . to ask myself how the God of my understanding moves and acts in the world. And, while I am still holding onto to my belief, I am convinced also that this isn’t a time for wishful thinking.
Rather, I believe it’s a time for intentional action. It’s a time to engage in an urgent and critical conversation about violence in our society, the state of mental health care in our country, and the adequacy of our existing gun control laws. It’s a time to join with others for the welfare of those who are most vulnerable
And so, as we are days away from one of the most celebrated religious holidays in the world, I would like to invite us all to consider how we will use this time to act on our faith . . . act on our sense of deep loss and outrage . . . act to seek justice for the families and friends who lost loved ones.
I’d like for us to think about what actions we will take for all children . . . children who deserve to go to school without fear in their hearts . . . children who deserve to enjoy all the beauty and wonder that we believe goes with being very young . . . the beauty and wonder we associate with the spirit of Christmas.
To begin, we might consider the time and place in which Frank Church’s editorial column was written. It would seem that Church had little reason to be optimistic about humanity in 1897. A former correspondent during the Civil War, Church had seen up-close the horrors of this ferocious battle . . . a battle that claimed the lives of over 620,000 soldiers and 50,000 civilians. It was a time in our American history of great suffering . . . a time when hope and faith ebbed low.
And, less than two weeks before Church’s column appeared in The New York Sun, the Lattimer Massacre had occurred. The Lattimer Massacre refers to the violent deaths of 19 unarmed immigrant coal miners who participated in a strike at the Lattimer mine near Hazleton, Pennsylvania, on September 10, 1897. The miners, mostly of Polish, Slovak, Lithuanian, and German ethnicity, were shot and killed by a Luzerne County sheriff’s posse; and many others were wounded.[i]
Yet, despite these tragedies, Frank Church went on to pen what has become one of the most celebrated editorial columns in American history and a cherished part of our Christmas folklore. And, in the aftermath of these tragedies of the 19th Century, things began to change.
The end of the Civil War launched our country on a difficult, yet redemptive journey towards racial equality . . . a journey that we’re still traveling with triumphs and setbacks along the way.
The Lattimer massacre ultimately became a turning point in the history of the United Mine Workers union. The union experienced a dramatic upsurge of more than 10,000 new members immediately following the incident. And, just three years later, it became powerful enough to win very large wage increases and significant safety improvements for miners throughout the region.[ii]
These victories over evil – over the worst of human behavior – were made possible only because persons had the courage to act. They became willing to allow these atrocities to turn their lives upside down. They found a voice for justice where they had once been silent. They found a compassion for the stranger – the Other – where they once harbored fear. They found new purpose and an uncomfortable new direction in their lives where they once were content blending into everyday existence.
Several weeks ago – before the Newtown tragedy ripped into our lives – I invited you to tell me about your acts of kindness and compassion. I wanted to hear about where your human spirit burned bright and where your highest ideals persisted. I wanted to know where the meaning of Christmas found its way into your everyday lives.
I think this morning we need these stories more than ever. I think we need to hear just how we are combatting loneliness and alienation and destruction every day. We need to cry a little and laugh a little.
And, so, in the spirit of those unforeseen virtues of faith, hope, and love – and in the spirit of the season – I would like to share with you some of these stories . . . stories that hopefully will remind us that the best of humanity is still alive and well in this world.
The first is from a Northwest member who is a photographer and writer. She was given the assignment of interviewing and photographing homeless people. She writes:
“I know where many homeless people are. I was actually among them when I was a teenager. I found a group of people living under a bridge next to Kennesaw Mountain. Two were home. I had a PRESS badge on, and my camera. The two let me into their camp.
“They were in tattered tents, covered in torn plastic sheeting. There were few blankets. There were lots of library books. One was a vet, and the other had a mental condition. Both were nice. I sat for some time and just talked.
“I had them follow me back to my car and I gave them $20. We don’t have a lot of money, and we have asked for help in the recent past. At this particular time, they needed it more, and I didn’t care what they used it for.”
But our Northwest friend didn’t stop there. She continues:
“I posted for help on our Northwest Facebook page, and someone silently put money in my pocket the next Sunday. I bought a brand new tent that I found on Craigslist. I picked it up and then delivered it. I also brought trash bags, wipes, clippers, a few razors, and toiletries.”
She concludes:
“I have seen the two men only a few times since, but I drop stuff off for them when I can – a wool blanket, some hats, a coat. A journal book and pencils because the one who is a vet said he loves to write. He’s looking for a job, but still would have to save to get a place to live.
“When I was asked why I helped, and how I knew where to find them, I said I had been there. I spent a few months as a squatter in Atlanta. I lived atop a restaurant. Maybe these guys can be better soon. Maybe not. Maybe if we all carried packages of things to pass on to others the world would be a better place.”
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist.
Here’s another story:
“Every Christmas, Delta employees and retirees set up a lounge for active and retired military personnel and their families. I will be volunteering there again. They can come and get a bite to eat, relax between flights, watch a movie, the kids can play with toys and we as volunteers get to hear some amazing stories. I also bring puppies from the Atlanta Humane Society to an Alzheimer’s unit at a nursing home for a visit.”
How dreary the world would be if there were no Santa Claus. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.
Here’s another story:
“Three or four Thursdays a month, eleven months a year, my wife and I coordinate the lunch program at the Carroll County Soup Kitchen. With a wonderful crew of twelve people, we plan and cook and serve lunch for about 80 people each time.
“One of the nice things about the soup kitchen is that no one who comes there is judged. Everyone who walks in the door is welcome.”
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus.
Another:
“My wife is an alumna of Georgia State. Five years ago, she contacted the GSU International Graduate Student office and asked them to identify some students who might like to share Christmas with us. Most international students can’t go home for the holidays as it is prohibitively expensive.
“The coordinator found four who would be interested in joining us. The students were from Sri Lanka, Cameroon, Japan, and China. They did not know each other, and of course did not know us. You can just imagine how uncomfortable they were.
“It did not take long for the ice to break. We were all friends before anyone ever got to the dinner table. It was a fascinating evening, thoroughly enjoyable and stimulating on so many levels. Nobody wanted to go home!
“We have kept this annual Christmas tradition ever since. This Christmas we will have 16 at the dinner table. We truly have a growing international extended family. And, we truly appreciate the phrase ‘it is more blessed to give than to receive.’”
And our last story:
“Even though we have barely escaped the need for their services ourselves, my husband and I find it hard to pass by any type of charity. During the holidays, our desire to give back grows even stronger. As he ages, we are trying to instill a strong sense of charity in our son.
“He likes to watch the collectors for the Salvation Army outside of the stores, ringing their bells in front of their red buckets.
“One day before heading out shopping, he decided to pop open his piggy bank to put some change in the bucket. My husband and I were ecstatic, and tried to explain the concepts of charity, goodwill, and helping others in need with his donation.
“However, he thought giving the bell-ringers money bought him a little bit of bell-ringing time. The lady thought it was hilarious, and let him ring the bell for a minute or two. Sure, it wasn’t what we were shooting for. Whatever works, I suppose. Santa would perhaps be proud.”
No Santa Claus? Thank God he lives and lives forever! A thousand years from now, Georgia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now.
May we not forget in these troubled times that Santa Claus – the spirit of Christmas – lives within us and among us. Let us mourn, as we need to, our losses and failures. And, as a people of faith, let us act as we must . . . determined that goodness and kindness will prevail.
May it be so. Amen.
Please join me now in singing Hymn #224 Let Christmas Come.