Sunday, November 30, 2003
We started a new holiday tradition last night. By definition, traditions can’t be new, but in my book this one is worth keeping. Its two days after the feast so dinner is Thanksgiving Casserole, the simplest and tastiest way to make a large dent in all those leftovers: stuffing topped with turkey topped with mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes. Get the string beans and corn in there somewhere, too. All covered with gravy and baked until bubbling. Mmmm. (It’s the perfect postmodern, non-linear meal!)
Then everyone gets into their PJ’s and I pop a big ol’ bowl of popcorn. We pull out the sofa bed, pile it high with pillows, and turn on It’s a Wonderful Life. (I found it this morning at Sam’s Club. Stacy and I discovered an old VHS copy of the movie buried in our kids’ box of tapes, but when we tried to watch it on Friday night, the sound was horrible & the tracking all jacked up. You might think this would be at least a little bit endearing for an old B&W movie. It wasn’t. DVD’s rock.) It’s a slow movie for all the kids under 7 (that’s 80% of them this year), so they play with the sofa cushions and tuck each other in with all the blankets. Mom and Dad snuggle up amidst the wiggling, bouncing bodies. I imagine that Dad’s eyes will tear up at the same places every year: George Bailey is such big man, “born older” as his old man puts it on the night he dies and George first puts his cherished dreams on hold for the greater good.
Maybe this isn’t the best way to introduce the Christmas season. After all, there is nary a mention, hint or whiff of the Incarnation, the humble emptying of God himself in the Son so that humanity might know the Father and gain righteousness and life. God is barely more than a crassly anthropomorphic entity throwing people a lifeline once in a while. And the angelology is seriously whacked. But taken as an ethical tale of sacrifice for one’s neighbor, I don’t know of a movie to top it. It seems a perfect illustration of this imperative: And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings. Even if the angelic theology is bogus, the ethos of serving the poor and fighting injustice more than makes up for it, making contemporary tales like Erin Brokovich seem pale and self-serving in contrast.
When that final bell rings, maybe “It’s a Wonderful Life” is little more than a sappy, sentimental holiday flick, and we ought to usher in the Advent season with more weighty, historically grounded traditions. But I won’t go on record saying there is no place for George and Clarence during this season. Even if it is saccharine, watching the ongoing sacrifices of George Bailey while I myself am surrounded by a mountain of sales flyers and talk of presents -- this grounds us in the humanity of the season and reminds us that Peace on Earth grows in the soil of humble sacrifice, the habit of true giving to those truly in need.
Then everyone gets into their PJ’s and I pop a big ol’ bowl of popcorn. We pull out the sofa bed, pile it high with pillows, and turn on It’s a Wonderful Life. (I found it this morning at Sam’s Club. Stacy and I discovered an old VHS copy of the movie buried in our kids’ box of tapes, but when we tried to watch it on Friday night, the sound was horrible & the tracking all jacked up. You might think this would be at least a little bit endearing for an old B&W movie. It wasn’t. DVD’s rock.) It’s a slow movie for all the kids under 7 (that’s 80% of them this year), so they play with the sofa cushions and tuck each other in with all the blankets. Mom and Dad snuggle up amidst the wiggling, bouncing bodies. I imagine that Dad’s eyes will tear up at the same places every year: George Bailey is such big man, “born older” as his old man puts it on the night he dies and George first puts his cherished dreams on hold for the greater good.
Maybe this isn’t the best way to introduce the Christmas season. After all, there is nary a mention, hint or whiff of the Incarnation, the humble emptying of God himself in the Son so that humanity might know the Father and gain righteousness and life. God is barely more than a crassly anthropomorphic entity throwing people a lifeline once in a while. And the angelology is seriously whacked. But taken as an ethical tale of sacrifice for one’s neighbor, I don’t know of a movie to top it. It seems a perfect illustration of this imperative: And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings. Even if the angelic theology is bogus, the ethos of serving the poor and fighting injustice more than makes up for it, making contemporary tales like Erin Brokovich seem pale and self-serving in contrast.
When that final bell rings, maybe “It’s a Wonderful Life” is little more than a sappy, sentimental holiday flick, and we ought to usher in the Advent season with more weighty, historically grounded traditions. But I won’t go on record saying there is no place for George and Clarence during this season. Even if it is saccharine, watching the ongoing sacrifices of George Bailey while I myself am surrounded by a mountain of sales flyers and talk of presents -- this grounds us in the humanity of the season and reminds us that Peace on Earth grows in the soil of humble sacrifice, the habit of true giving to those truly in need.
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