War on Christmas: Santa Claus, Superstar

This week, Tommy and Caleb are starting a new series called "Twelve Days of the War on Christmas." Click here for Caleb's overview. We're using Obama in the song because, well, he is everyone's true love, isn't he?

On the 2nd day of the War on Christmas Obama gave to me,
Two different Christmae, and a reindeer and a hate spree.

The recent brouhaha over Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in North Carolina, reindeered in great detail here, represents an important breakthrough in the Christmas wars.

At issue was the inclusion of the glowing venison's anthem in a kindergarten pageant: (from Examiner.com)

A kindergarten class was preparing a concert, and one of the songs to be performed was "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." An unnamed parent objected to the song, suggesting that the words "Santa" and "Christmas" carry religious overtones. The school responded to the complaint by pulling the song from the program. More parents then complained, and the matter was then decided by administrators and lawyers. Taxpayer dollars at work.

Eventually, the song was reinstated.

I think that this issue represents the codification of a decades-long development of two new Americas: The monotheistic, Christian America, and a polytheistic America that idolizes a New Olympus, if you will, of supernatural guardians. The fact that Christ is no longer required in order to have Christmas warred upon means that the New Olympians have come into their own.

First, a little bit of history. Ever since I was a little kid, I have observed the emergence of two Christmases. There's the Christmas that everybody knows and loves, where Santa Claus brings you presents, there are pretty lights everywhere, and you sing from an ever-growing repertoire of upbeat ditties (many of which preserve amusingly arcane phrases like "gay apparel" and "figgy pudding").

Then, there's this "Shadow Christmas" that you celebrate at church. It's all about the birth of Jesus, but it involves taxes, somehow, coupled with a crisis in the ancient hospitality industry, and really ill-conceived gifts for newborns. There's some minimal decorative crossover, but other than that, it's a completely different holiday.

Every once in awhile, you would see Church Christmas bleed over into Real Christmas, and the results were always a little uncomfortable. A nativity scene in a mall Christmas display was always an uncomfortable reminder of the deeper meaning of your 6 Million Dollar Man action figure.

As a child, I clearly recognized the competing theologies behind these two vastly disparate holidays, pointed up by the old rallying cry to "Keep Christ in Christmas." Back in those days, people still bothered to rail against the mixing of commercialism god Santa Claus with the birth of the Savior.

Sadly, even then, that battle was already lost. Santa, et al, eventually took over to such a degree that they no longer felt threatened by Church Christmas, and stopped using "X-mas" to try and tamp it out.

Let's face it, once you get past the inherent contradictions, there's a neat symbiosis between the two theologies. Santa Claus keeps little kids in line the rest of the year, as they are loathe to jeopardize their annual booty of toys with bouts of naughtiness. The prospect of eternal damnation is terrifying yet abstract to youngsters.

Santa's underlings on the new Olympus serve similar purposes, and have gained varying degrees of devotion. The Tooth Fairy helped to take the edge off of losing teeth, a disquieting first reminder of mortality for a young child. Comparing the relative generosity of the dental sprite also made fodder for lively recess discussion.

The Easter Bunny is the Spock to Santa's Kirk, accorded that lofty position by virtue of superlative candy-delivery skills, but also because of his ability to put a happy face on what is otherwise a sad ending to the Church Christmas story. Sure, Church Easter appeals to some adults, who can see the bigger picture, but for kids, it's as big a downer as when Frosty the Snowman meets his temperate end.

The bit players on New Olympus, like the Sandman (whose main purpose, as far as I can tell, is to keep you from being grossed out by the fact that there are boogers in your eyes) have failed to gain much traction, but they may simply be awaiting a tipping point.

In popular culture today, the New Olympians are the clear winners. We build bigger idols to them, sing more and louder songs, and bathe in their bounty like Caligulan partygoers. They are so powerful, in fact, that even the atheists won't mess with them. In their most recent attack on Christmas, the sign they had installed next to a nativity scene in Washington State, they made nary a mention of Santa Claus.

My Dad used to get all apoplectic, pointing out the hypocrisy of self-described Christians participating in Pagan holiday rituals. He even cited some Bible verse against Christmas trees. (It's interesting that the fire code in Wisconsin was able to achieve what the Bible could not.)

Jeremiah 10:1-5 "Hear ye the word which the LORD speaketh unto you, O house of Israel: "Thus saith the LORD, Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them. For the customs of the people are vain: For one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe. They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not. They are upright as the palm tree, but speak not: They must needs be borne, because they cannot go. Be not afraid of them; for they cannot do evil, neither also is it in them to do good."

OK, maybe he had a point there, but this is Christmas, man! Whatever I gotta do to get a pile of toys, some pumpkin pie, and some foil-wrapped chocolate, I'll do it. Draw up the papers, I'll sign.

Now that Church Christmas and Real Christmas have achieved parity in the War on Christmas, I think it's time we took a step back and realized that all of these stories miss the point. It is what it is. Drive through any neighborhood in New Jersey, and you'll see what I mean.

You'll see blinding, kaleidoscopic displays of electrical-grid-straining chaser lights, and giant inflatable snow globes. There will be that one house done up in blue and white lights for Hanukkah, which makes everyone in the car turn to each other and say, "How tasteful." There are always a few elitists who go with a "dignified" display of only white lights. Maybe you'll see an electric menorah or a kinara, and you'll more than likely butcher their explanations to your kids. There will even be some dark, creepy atheists' houses, at which point someone will suggest a "registry."

What you won't find are "City Hall" displays, or giant inflatable Statehouses. (I actually kind of like that idea. They had something like it at Invesco Field in August, and it was pretty cool.)

So, I say include as many people as you can. The requirements ought to be simple. Can you express it with strings of lights, and does it involve presents or candy? You're in!