"The Force has invaded the Dark Side, and the Dark Side has lost . . . " (John 1:5, sorta)

Not just in November, but every week, Christians around the world gather for official Thanksgiving celebrations. Eucharist, which means thanksgiving, is a celebration of praise and thankfulness to God situated in the memory of a death. When we gather, we hear the story of what happened on the night Jesus was betrayed and partake in the broken body and shed blood, for we believe that “as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.” Our process of giving thanks involves the retelling of a sacrifice – a confession of acts done on our behalf. To do so in remembrance implies that the past, however painful and uncomfortable, cannot be forgotten. We gather not only to give thanks and praise, but to remember the events of the story that we find ourselves in.

Participating in this ritual of thanksgiving and remembrance shapes us. We in the church not only partake symbolically of the body of Christ, we are the body of Christ which believes that sharing the bread and the cup represents the communion we have as a body. We are not individuals who happen to gather once a week, but integral parts of a body that depend on each other in order to function. We remember the sacrifice of Jesus by caring for each other’s needs – living sacrificially for one another as part of that act of remembrance and thanksgiving. Within that communion many of us pray as part of our very act of thanksgiving words of confession and repentance for what we have done and what we have left undone, including our failure to love our neighbors as ourselves. Those aren’t (or shouldn’t be) just perfunctory words; for to enter into thanksgiving involves placing ourselves in community and not only confessing the ways we have failed to remember the sacrifice of Christ as part of that community, but repenting of those ways by seeking reconciliation instead.

Thanking God for all God has done for us without acknowledging the parts of our body that are in pain or even the ways we have caused harm to that very body is to fail to remember Christ’s sacrifice. The first Thanksgiving is not just a tale of blessing (if it is even that at all), it is also a tale of the failure to love our neighbors – a failure that gets perpetuated every year mourning and reconciliation are avoided in the name of a celebration. Participating in Eucharist, in thanksgiving, involves acknowledging that because of Christ our lives are intricately bound up in each others’. We rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn because we are all one body. There should not have to be a separate National Day of Mourning to call us to repentance for the injustices caused by things done and left undone. Pleas for the confession of our failure to love our neighbor should not be silenced for being too inflammatory or met with armed police for getting in the way of official celebration. Thanksgiving for the body of Christ should by its very nature involve mourning as well as celebration and confession as well as praise.

The Thanksgiving table is also the Eucharist table where we can partake only in lived remembrance of Christ’s sacrifice.

We tried to be those parents. We tried to tell our daughter that Santa Claus isn't real.

We knew that this could get her in trouble at some point, that chaos would ensue if she destroyed the innocent faith of her kindergarten classmates with a declaration of Santa-atheism. Yet we did it anyway, perhaps to always tell her the truth about the world, perhaps to preserve the religious focus of the holiday. Whatever our reasons, the project didn't work.

Early on she went along with our attempts. She even laughed at the silliness of Grandpa suggesting we put out milk and cookies on Christmas Eve. But as she matured to the more social age of four, everything changed. Her assertions to her Sunday school class and preschool that Santa isn't real were met with uniform disagreement; she was outnumbered. Every single other child she knew believed in Santa, so the logical conclusion must be that her parents were wrong. She informed us without hesitation.

But around the same time, my daughter decided that the Christmas story–as in the whole Mary, Joseph, angels and baby Jesus tale–is just too far-fetched to be real. So I was stuck with a preschooler who believed in Santa but not in the Bible.

Strangely enough, I was okay with that. I didn't care that the preschool constituency was against me; my daughter's conversion woke me up to what it means to convey truth to her. I realized that our understandings of truth are communally created–the truths I want my daughter to understand have to make sense within the communal narrative of her world. The truth of the Christmas story is about more than historical veracity. And the Santa story provides space for meaning as well.

There will be time to explore the complexities of the historical Christmas story, but for now I am content to work within my daughter's understanding of the world to kindle faith and encourage a love of meaningful truths.

They might be overdone and cheesy, but there is something visceral about the collective emotion that Christmas songs tap into. Something is stirring even in all the schmaltz and sentimentality, something that goes beyond the consumeristic trappings. God shows up in the midst of all that cheese.

This week I finally allowed myself to click on the "Christmas Songs" playlist on my iPod (yes, I waited until Thanksgiving week). The songs shuffled between Willie Nelson and Enya and Harry Connick Jr. and The Wiggles. Then the player landed on U2's version of "I Believe in Father Christmas." Released two years ago to raise awareness for World AIDS Day, this quickly became my favorite Christmas song–mostly because of a one-word change Bono makes to the lyrics.

The original lyrics question any deeper meaning of Christmas and encourage people to simply enjoy the chance to be with family. The song writes off the reasons for the season as a mere bill of goods:

They sold me a dream of Christmas
They sold me a silent night
They told me a fairy story
Till I believed in the Israelite.
And I believed in Father Christmas
And I looked at the sky with excited eyes
Till I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn
And I saw him and through his disguise

We were apparently sold to and told until we believed. But Bono changes the fourth line to "But I believe in the Israelite." This present-tense affirmation changes everything:

We still have the trappings of Christmas and the competing narratives. But God shows up–there is room for belief. Yes, our eyes are full of cheap tinsel; yes, we can see through Father Christmas's disguise. We may not get the snow at Christmas or peace on earth–but that isn't all there is. We can say, "But I believe in the Israelite," and this affirmation provides a meaning that the season otherwise lacks–and even infuses the season's trappings with meaning. The sparkly lights, the trees, the tinsel and the songs (even the cheesy ones) can connect us with a surprisingly weighty soul language.

So I'm excited by Trade As One's campaign this holiday season to encourage all of us to buy Fair Trade gifts this Christmas. We turn our traditions into a way to help and love others through such purchases. And if enough of us do it, we can make a big difference. They write – "Think about this: Just One Fair Trade purchase from every American churchgoer this Christmas would lift one million families out of abusive poverty for one whole year. Let’s make sure that when gifts are given, they speak of the sort of world that Jesus came to show us—one where the last is first, where the poor are included, the sick are healed, and the captive is set free."

Fantastic idea. And they created this great video to help get the message out there -

There are numerous ways one can support Fair Trade or other justice causes this Christmas. We are excited this year to find a Fair Trade Chocolate Advent Calendar. And I take time with the kids to support families around the world by purchasing animals from Heifer International. But there are numerous places online where one can find Fair Trade items to give this Christmas. I've listed some of my favorite sites below. But all it takes is just a little tweak to our holiday habits this Christmas to help show love to people around the world.

Clothing and Accessories

• Be The Change Elements
• Earth Creations
• Ecoland
• Fair Indigo
• Greenheart
• Indigenous Designs
• Mata Traders
• No Sweat Apparel
• Rawganique
• Simple Shoes
• Tinctoria Designs
• Tom's Shoes

Food, Coffee, and Gifts

• Cafe Justo
• Equal Exchange
• Land of a Thousand Hills Coffee
• Natural Candy Store
• SERRV
• Taraluna
• Ten Thousand Villages
• Trade As One
• World of Good

Other

• Fair Trade Sports
• Reusable Bags

So have yourself a merry little fair trade Christmas. Celebrate traditions and do some good while you are at it.

Sarah and Angelina Grimke – sisters born to an "aristocratic" Southern slaveholding family, who after converting to the Quaker faith became abolitionists and women's rights advocates. They were among the first women to take a public stand against the oppression of women and slaves. Angelina lectured to legislative groups and Sarah wrote An Epistle to the Clergy of the Southern States (1836), urging abolition, and Letters on the Equality of the Sexes and the Condition of Woman (1838). Theirs was faith in action, bringing freedom to those denied a voice.

Ruby Bridges – for the sake of a better education for all this six year old became one of the first black kids to attend an all-white school. Even though she received threats, her father lost his job, U.S. Marshalls had to escort her to school, and she ended up being the only student in her class with the help of her family, her teacher, and psychiatrist Dr. Robert Coles, she stuck it out. And started our country down the path of freedom of (good) education for all.

Romeo Ramirez – the first American to be awarded (in 2003) the Robert F. Kennedy Human Right Award. Ramirez moved to Florida from Guatemala at age 15 in search of work. What he saw in the citrus groves and tomato farms — forced labor, armed guards in the fields, economic servitude — turned the slight, soft-spoken farmworker into an organizer and activist. He joined a group called the Coalition for Immokalee Workers, went undercover, testified in federal court, and helped put three labor crew bosses behind bars for the next decade. He is the face of those seeking freedom for the modern day slaves in our midst.

Who are your heroes? Who do you look up to in the fight to free others from oppression?

The 30th day of May, 1868, is designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers, or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land. In this observance no form or ceremony is prescribed, but Posts and comrades will, in their own way, arrange such fitting services and testimonials of respect as circumstances may permit.

We are organized, Comrades, as our regulations tell us, for the purpose among other things, "of preserving and strengthening those kind and fraternal feelings which have bound together the soldiers sailors and Marines, who united to suppress the late rebellion." What can aid more to assure this result than by cherishing tenderly the memory of our heroic dead? We should guard their graves with sacred vigilance. All that the consecrated wealth and taste of the nation can add to their adornment and security, is but a fitting tribute to the memory of her slain defenders. Let pleasant paths invite the coming and going of reverent visitors and fond mourners. Let no neglect, no ravages of time, testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undivided republic.

As I read that description, I couldn't help but reflect on the slight dissonance it recalled in me. For better or worse, I grew up in the South. While I was taught that slavery was wrong, there was an underlying sympathy for the South in the way that era of history was taught in schools. It wasn't uncommon for the Civil War to be referred to as The War of Northern Aggression. History taught from the "other" perspective – in this case from the still slightly bitter losers – doesn't always feel the same as that presented by the winners. So even now as I read the words telling me to honor those "who united to suppress the late rebellion" and died to preserve a "free and undivided republic," I feel a twinge of dissonance. My cultural heritage, even if I don't agree with it, was on the side of the rebellion. I am, in a small way, part of the "them" in this "us verses them" scenario. It just makes it a bit weird to remember and celebrate the sacrifices of the "other side."

That dissonance was made even more real when I began to encounter other cultures that the United States has fought against. I remember being in some small country town in Germany and seeing a WW2 memorial. It took me a minute to realize that this was a memorial to the Nazis, the guys my country (my grandfather) killed. But they were sons and husbands sacrificed by this small town as well. Similar thing happened in grad school. I was out to lunch with a classmate from the Ukraine and we were sharing stories from our childhood about the Cold War. We each were fed propaganda about each other's country and we had to do duck and cover drills in school. It was quite strange sitting in a Panara Bread in suburban Wheaton discussing how we would hide under our desks out of fear of each other. I saw the other side of the story and that those I had cast (or had been taught to cast) as "THEM" weren't really that different than me. And while I admit to the evils of both WW2 and the Cold War, knowing the people on the other side makes it hard to celebrate those who died to protect me from them.

So as we are meant to keep the memory of the heroic dead on this day, I have to wonder if the "wealth and taste of the nation" might have some better use than preserving the memory of a fight to destroy those who are now our friends? Perhaps we could be building bridges, visiting country villages, and sharing meals with those we currently cast in the role of enemy. Perhaps instead of simple remembering those we lost in grievances of the past we can work to prevent the grievances of the present and future.

Or we could just relax, eat a hamburger, drink a beer and let the day pass unreflected upon (which in all truth are my plans for the day).  But maybe it's a good thing that community building has replaced the honoring of the dead as the main purpose of the day.

Colossians 3:11-15
Here there is no Gentile or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.

I read this verse earlier and the first thing I wondered was – how often are we thankful for the opportunity to show compassion and love and humility?

Forgetting the retail calender, this week marks the true beginning of the holiday season. Pastors are pulling out the feel-good holiday sermons. Devotionals focus on love and peace on earth. A heightened spirituality is ushered in that will carry us through the next month or so. We will be more apt to give to charity. Allowed to engage religion publicly. And use terms in everyday conversations which are generally reserved for Sunday mornings – thankfulness, joy, peace, love.

But at the same time those feel-good sermons will be crafted to exclude. Forget celebrating that we believe in the Virgin Birth, we want to make sure we tell others they are wrong if they don't. And those devotions about peace on earth had better not be applied to American foreign policy or your salvation might get questioned. And we're fine with writing a check to some trendy charity, but you'd better as hell not expect us to give up our prime parking spot at the mall. And by public religion we mean that unless your business prominently uses the term "Merry Christmas" and not "happy holidays" we will boycott you and encourage our friends to do so as well. And by love and compassion we mean loving people enough to tell them they are going to hell unless they start acting and looking like us (oh, and say a payer to Jesus).

Compassion. Love. Thanksgiving. Unity.

Sometimes I wonder if they are just holiday buzz words with no real meaning in our lives. What would happen if we dared to show true hospitality and kindness to those around us? To not draw lines, hold grudges, or point fingers. To not debate the humanity of the Other as if they were not right there listening in. But to truly love others regardless of differences and to the thankful for the opportunity to do so. To stop talking about these seasonal concepts and actually do them.

I'm trying to figure it out. To cut through the hallmarky bs and be real. Half the time I catch myself simply being selfish and stupid and wonder what the hell am I doing. I'd love to find that unity, but most of the time I'm just overwhelmed by the ongoing failure to love. So I'm working on seeking that unity by being thankful for the diversity – to love those who fail to love. But I'm finding it hard to be thankful for things that don't benefit me. Sad isn't it. But I'm trying.

So happy holidays, and thankfulness, and love, and peace and all that stuff.

Mother’s Day Proclamation – 1870
by Julia Ward Howe

Arise then…women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
“We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.”

From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: “Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.”
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace…
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

And this video (ht: Josh) I think makes a fantastic point about how we raise our kids determining the world they will create. What things do we tell them are important and significant in this world? Do we encourage them towards peace, justice, and equality? Or do we give such things lip service while really conveying to them that money and power are the really important things in life?

Happy Mother's Day