Editor’s note: Columns in the Faith section reflect opinions and perspectives of the writer and are not necessarily those of The Republic.
Christmas Day drew near along the Western Front in 1914 when a call by Pope Benedict XV went out to the countries fighting in World War I. He implored them to take part in a ceasefire during the Holy holiday, hoping this small act would lead to lasting peace.
While those in command never gave official word of a ceasefire, guns suddenly fell silent along much of the 30-mile front. From the candle-lined trenches, the Germans began to sing carols to which the British troops soon accompanied. The Germans slowly emerged and walked toward the British troops still singing. Upon seeing them unarmed, the British left their trenches and joined their enemy in song.
During the Christmas Truce of 1914, nearly 100,000 German and British troops continued to sing carols, exchange small gifts, and play soccer on the battlefield.
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While most people would hail this moment as a true act of chivalry on both sides, or a great achievement in the way men were able to set aside differences to celebrate a common holiday, I find it to be one of the saddest moments in human history. While mortal enemies were able to set aside political and ideological differences in celebrating the Christ-child, they returned to slaughtering one another the day after Christmas.
The carols and hymns sung in unison proclaiming peace on earth and the goodwill of men were silenced by gunfire and fighting. The gifts exchanged and the games of glad tidings were replaced with mangled bodies and fields of blood. The celebration of the Christ-child was eclipsed by men fighting for kingdoms set upon foundations of violence and power.
I wonder if it would have been better (or at least more honest) for each side to stay in their trenches and just keep fighting. I know that sounds provocative, but why celebrate the advent of the Prince of Peace, whose Kingdom and peace has known no end, only to return back to the same old antagonisms and hatreds that are the complete antithesis of the Incarnation?
On our ideological battleground in the United States this holiday season, we are deeply entrenched, fighting to make our country more equitable, more just, more fair, and more free. But we will soon come out of our trenches and temporarily cease fighting in order to sing a few carols, exchange some gifts, and gather around the table for small talk and games in the name of Christmas tradition. And like those before us, we will return to our fighting unchanged, no closer to ”peace on earth” or “goodwill toward all men” than we were the day before our festivities began.
Richard Rohr says that, “The virgin birth of Jesus is very good theological symbolism, but unless it translates into a spirituality of interior poverty, readiness to conceive, and human vulnerability, it is largely a mere lesson memorized.”
I might even humbly add that it is “just a mere holiday celebrated.”
That is the great irony of the Incarnation. We temporarily gather to celebrate something we have no intention of becoming ourselves. We prefer the outer decoration to our inner transformation, annual tradition to an entirely new way of living and relating to others.
But the Incarnation tells a much different story. From within the darkness of the world’s womb, a new conception of life is gestating and coming to life.
First with the Christ-child and then within us.
If we want a world no longer shackled by the imbalances, inequities, and injustices of classism, racism, and materialism, it only truly begins to change with a spiritual people of interior poverty in whom God has made his humble dwelling place.
If we want a world no longer beholden and addicted to politics and power structures, it only changes when we are ready to conceive something new within us.
If we want a world in which we finally lay down our instruments of war, whether they be our words or weapons, it only begins when the peace we celebrate becomes the peace that incarnates.
That is when our hearts will soften.
When our animosities will give way to forgiveness.
When our words will no longer be weapons but salve.
When our hands will no longer strike our enemy but break bread with him at our table.
When all of our venom and vitriol and vindictiveness is at last vanquished by love.
That is a holiday we should celebrate together.
This Christmas, may I not simply call you to a truce of temporary peace. Instead, I implore you to become that peace so we may all live in peace together.
Brandon Andress of Columbus is an author and freelance writer whose work has been featured by Relevant Magazine, ReKnew, and Zondervan. His written work can be found at brandonandress.com. Send comments to [email protected].
