By JOANNE SADLER BUTLER
This year, I want to share some thoughts with you about how the true meaning of Christmas clashes with today’s cult of liberty.
When I say “cult of liberty,” I mean that peculiar American institution that transforms our founding fathers into iconic demigods, our Constitution and Bill of Rights into sacred texts, and together they are the physical proof that Americans are God’s chosen people.
I’ll limit myself to one opening salvo on the demigod issue: Thomas Jefferson was not a Christian; he had a vague belief in a “Nature’s God” (as stated in the preamble to the Declaration of Independence). Further, to mollify his distaste for the Gospels, he snipped out all references to the miracles of Jesus. If you wish to read this document for yourself, the Unitarians will be happy to sell you a copy.
Christ coming among us reminds us that political liberty is not redemption.
Is political liberty a good thing? Yes.
Is living under a political system of liberty better than the alternative? Yes.
Is political liberty necessary for redemption? No. Only Christ redeems us.
Take a close look at the Christmas story — you’ll find very little liberty there.
Right from the start Luke tells us that Caesar Augustus issued a decree for an empire-wide census (Luke 2:1) This was the maker of the Augustan age of peace, Pax Romana, and Romans declared him to be a god.
Statues to Augustus the god were in every nook and cranny of the empire. An ambitious non-Roman looking to succeed in that empire would doubtless benefit from burning a few pennysworth of incense before the local Augustan shrine.
Delving deeper into the Christmas story, we see that even as an unborn child, Christ submitted Himself to Caesar Augustus’ decree. In Mary’s womb He traveled to Bethlehem with Joseph.
And why did they have to leave their Nazareth home to go south to Bethlehem? Luke says it’s a census, but it probably included the payment of taxes. So what little available money the Holy Family had would be set aside for Caesar Augustus.
Perhaps Augustus called for the census because he wanted to rebuild his army, construct a new horseracing track, or erect a fancy new temple to whatever god or goddess was in fashion. Or perhaps his needs were more mundane: improving the aqueducts or drains.
No matter. Joseph and Mary had no say in what the Romans would do with their money.
But ending taxation without representation was not the reason why Christ was born.
Christ entered the world under Caesar’s laws, lived under them, and ultimately died under them. As a boy He must have walked with Joseph delivering goods from the workshop — here and there spotting little lucky omen shrines to some god or goddess. As a man, His travels took Him to larger towns and cities where He would come face-to-face with lavish pagan shrines.
If the Gospels were composed by Hollywood scriptwriters, at this point we would have a superhero Jesus — smashing idols with a mere glance or wave of His hand. Even Caesar Augustus, the Roman Senate and the entire empire would have to bow down to this truly divine force.
But none of that happened, of course.
Christ entered the world quietly. There was no clap of thunder announcing the entrance of the Maker of a new order. But I suppose Nature had to do something to acknowledge Christ’s presence on earth, hence the star.
The Jesus who brought redemption into world was not a superhero demanding worship because of His physical power.
Rather, Jesus brought our redemption by His quiet power of forgiveness made manifest in His suffering and death on the cross — a death He accepted from the civil powers that held Him. This is what we must keep uppermost in our minds as we (like Jesus once did) walk through pagan spaces. Today’s pagan spaces include 24-hour continual political talk shows, and, during the election cycle, bombardments of ads in all types of media.
Television news reports show us people screaming about wanting rights, freedom, and liberty. What about redemption?
In the incessant, ever-louder political cacophony, how can we have our souls justified?
The “how” begins by not by seeking that shining city on a hill but by focusing on a quiet little place in the outer reaches of an ancient empire. For there we will find our Christ our Redeemer, keeping in mind the words of the martyr St. Robert Southwell, SJ:
Despise him not for lying there,
First, what he is enquire,
An orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.
Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feed;
Weigh not his mother’s poor attire
Nor Joseph’s simple weed.
This stable is a prince’s court,
This crib his chair of state,
The beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.
The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear;
The prince himself is come from heaven —
This pomp is prizëd there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight,
Do homage to thy king;
And highly prize his humble pomp
Which he from heaven doth bring.
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