Ps. 22: 1,9,10 “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?  Why are You so far from saving me, form the words of my groaning? … Yet You are He Who took me from the womb; You made me trust You at my mother’s breasts.  On You was I cast from my birth, and from my mother’s womb You have been my God.”

When I was growing up, I always looked forward to the Hallmark specials on TV.  Cable didn’t exist back then, at least not in the areas I lived, so we only had the big three stations – ABC, NBC, CBS.  I don’t remember which one carried the specials, but they’d be advertised for weeks ahead, and they’d only show for the one night.  Oh, eventually they’d show up again, but we knew if we didn’t want to have to wait till who knows when, we had to catch it that night. 

Then came the advent of the VCR.  Woo hoo!  We could record the show and watch it at a more convenient time.  No more missing a show.  Then along came cable, and the Hallmark Channel was born, a channel consisting entirely of, you guessed it, all those movies that used to be Hallmark Specials.  Oh, Hallmark is still making new movies, and they still get advertising campaigns, but if you miss the first showing, don’t worry – you can always catch it on one of the next dozen showings the following month.  Somehow, those specials don’t seem so special anymore.

A lot of people complain about “Christmas creep” in stores, as Christmas displays are set up earlier and earlier.  Halloween ghouls now stand trick-or-treating from Santa, with only the occasional Pilgrim intruding in acknowledgment that, oh, yeah, there is Thanksgiving in there somewhere.  “Christmas creep” has happened on the Hallmark Channel, too.  It used to be that their marathon of non-stop Christmas shows didn’t start until after Thanksgiving, but no more.  This year it started mid-November, show after show after show. 

Christmas shows, whether on Hallmark or any other channel, tend to have one thing in common:  almost every  one includes in its description something about how someone discovers “the true meaning of Christmas.”   If someone didn’t know anything about Christmas, what would they learn IS the “true meaning of Christmas” if they watched all these shows?  That family is the most important thing in the world.  Or that it is more important to give than to get.  Or that we should be nice to each other because otherwise we’ll end up hated and lonely at the end.  Or that we need to let people be themselves.  Or that we should forgive others.  Or that we’re all the brotherhood of mankind and should learn to get along.  Or that every Christmas wish must come true.  Touchy-feely, makes you feel good all over, heart-warming stuff, for sure. 

But wait, you say, there are shows that aren’t about Santa, elves, Frosty, BB guns, ghosts, or caricature angels.  Shows that give the “real meaning” as the (real) angels telling the shepherds, “Unto you is born this day…”  Shows that tell about Mary and Joseph, and the star, and Baby Jesus in the manger.  These answers, though not incorrect, are incomplete.   You see, even THIS far much of the world is still happy to celebrate.  What’s not to love about a glowing image of mother and child?  I mean, the whole thing is a great story, looked at from just a dramatic point of view.  The young, weary, pregnant mother-to-be coming to Bethlehem, the long search for lodging only to find no room at the inn, the lonely birth in a stable with all the kindly beasts around, the angels, the shepherds, the star, the Three Kings – just made for a beautiful painting or a Hollywood script!

Many of us recognize Psalm 22 in connection with Good Friday and the Passion of our Lord.  Jesus, in fact, quoted the first part of this first verse as He hung on the cross.  The psalm’s graphic descriptions that so clearly portray crucifixion, its depiction of His agony – anyone who has stood in a darkened sanctuary watching the altar slowly stripped of its Lenten adornments as they are replaced with funereal black drapings, while the congregation reads this passage in subdued and somber tones, knows the shudder that runs through the soul at the contemplation of the suffering shadowed in those lines.

The problem with the “true meaning of Christmas”, even as presented in many more-or-less Christian shows, is that it isn’t found in the angels, the shepherd, or the wise men.  It isn’t even found in the manger, because if all Jesus had done was to come as that Child laid in a feeding trough, we wouldn’t be celebrating.  From His very conception, Jesus was destined for the cross.  The bones knit together in His mother’s womb were already feeling the pain of being out of joint with agony.  As He lay in that manger, His pudgy infant hands and feet were already marked “insert nails here.”  His mouth that eagerly swallowed Mary’s sweet milk was already tasting that sour wine on the sponge raised on a hyssop branch.   As those shepherds knelt to adore Him, He was already hearing the shouts of “Crucify Him!”  As those wise men honored Him as “King of the Jews”, He could already read the sign with those very words in three languages tacked up above His head. 

It is THIS that is offensive to the world.  It is THIS meaning that Satan would hide from the world, and from which Satan would distract us.  Satan doesn’t care if we celebrate Jesus’ birth, so long as we ignore His death.  But always, always in the back of our minds as we celebrate Christmas, should be the awareness of Good Friday.  When we sing of “God and sinners reconciled”, along with our joy should be a remembrance of what that reconciliation cost Him.  Our peace was bought with the price of His pain. 

The true meaning of Christmas is not found in the crèche, but in the cross.