In the mid 1940’s my grandmother took me on an annual pilgrimage to view the decorations on display in the windows of the major department store in my hometown. We would take the bus downtown to look at the windows at Knapp’s Department Store which seemed, in my imagination, to have the most awesome Christmas display in the world. My grandmother and I would spend what seemed like hours standing in the slush of melting and re-freezing snow, entranced by the sights before us and the sounds around us.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of kids came each Christmas to press their noses against Knapp’s cold, thick plate glass windows in order to better see the life-like elves, the reindeer whose heads moved from side to side, the lumbering bears, and an actual working model of Santa’s North Pole workshop. It was a magical sight to behold.
The sacred mystery of the season was heightened by the sound of recorded Christmas carols, especially those repetitiously sung by Gene Autry (Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer), Bing Crosby (I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas) Pattie Page and the Robert Shaw Chorale.
When my feet became numb from the cold and slush, we would retreat into Knapp’s and warm ourselves while I waited to talk with Santa himself.
I used to imagine that I could see a change in the behavior of everyone who hurried by as they passed Knapp’s and were exposed to the carols and the sight of all these children standing in front of Knapp’s great windows. People actually seemed to slow down, looked over the heads of gawking children and seemed to really enjoy the traditional sights and sounds of Christmas.
When I was about 6 or7, the Christmas magic of Knapp’s Department Store began to fade. It began one Christmas Eve when I thought I heard hoofs of reindeer on the roof of our house. I jumped out of bed and quietly snuck down the stairs to see what was happening. Just as I peeked around the corner of the banister, I saw my dad bringing in a brand new Schwinn bike through the door. Wow!!
My mom was startled by my arrival and cautiously directed me back upstairs. And she said that yes, indeed, I had heard reindeer hoofs on the roof and that Santa had already been to our house. My mom and dad were simply helping Santa by putting the wheels on the bike and getting it just right for me. I never gave that story a second thought.
But then tragedy happened! Some older boys at my school told every kid on the playground that there was no such person as Santa Claus. That Santa Claus was an invention of parents. And to believe in Santa Claus was childish. I was crushed!!
No Santa? I’d actually seen his North Pole workshop at Knapp’s. Why would the people at Knapp’s lie, year after year, with their windows filled with elves, reindeer, dancing bears and all?
This was fatal!!!
I waited to ask my grandmother about Santa—“The kids at school say it’s all a fake.” And then, my grandmother said slowly: “Well, you know, Buddy, Santa lives in our hearts.” What the heck kind of statement is that! I jumped in and said—“That’s not what I mean. Is Santa real? I want to know if Santa is real?!!!
“Buddy, Santa Claus isn’t real the way you think he is. Santa is bigger than any picture, and more powerful than the things in the windows of Knapp’’s. Santa Claus represents love freely given and love freely received. That’s what Christmas is about.”
“And in our home we believe in an even greater miracle—that at Christmas Jesus was born and Jesus tells us about God’s love for every one of us. Sometimes kids need Santa Claus to understand that giving and receiving are the most important things for human beings. Santa reminds us of the joy of giving gifts and the wonder and excitement of receiving them. Santa reminds us, whether we are very young or very old that it is in giving that we come to know the gift of God.”
Well, I want to tell you something—at that moment I regretted asking the question and getting the truth. Because it seemed like all of the magic and wonder of Christmas was stripped away. The Christmas images in the windows of Knapp’s Department Store began to fade. Here was the moment of truth! And I was forced to think about something greater than elves; something far greater than a big, bearded man in a red suit and magical flying reindeer. That’s a problem when you’re six or seven.
So goes the wonderful world of small children.
That moment of truth has never stopped me from taking my own kids to see the wonderful world of store windows. To dream dreams and prepare for yet another Christmas—and for my own children to begin their own journey of learning about love freely given and love freely received. To learn about giving the greatest gift that can ever be given to another—the gift of one’s very self—a gift that comes to us from God.
Jesus’ birth is the real reason and the real meaning of Christmas. It’s not a fairy tale. It’s not magic—although sometimes even that story is told in a magical way. But it is the true and simple story that brings us the gift of Christmas.
To be touched by God’s Christmas love is a wondrous, unbelievably, beautiful, life-changing experience.
To be touched by God’s Christmas love is to know “the peace of God that passes all understanding.
To be touched by God’s Christmas love frees those who experience it to embrace the strangers who have yet to find room in the ‘inn’—the inn of this church and this community and this world.
To be touched by God’s Christmas love is to know Jesus as the Son of the Living God in a way that allows each and every one of us to be givers of God’s unconditional love in a world desperately seeking to know the Lord of life.
The message and miracle of Christmas is that God is with us—that God dwells with us in Jesus of Nazareth. It is our loving joy to live that miracle day by day.
Amen
