Christmas builders

by Charles Edward Jefferson

Not only would it be better for ourselves if in some such way Christmas might be expanded, but hosts of our brothers and sisters would be gladdened by the change. With an entire month at one’s disposal in which to do one’s Christmas shopping and to tie up one’s Christmas packages and to plan for one’s Christmas dinner, the burden of preparation would not fall so suddenly or with such crushing force upon those who minister to us, and many who are now unable to rejoice in the Christmas celebration would be found joyfully singing the Christmas song. Much of the congestion and the crowding of the present would be rendered impossible, and Christmas would become what it ought to be,—a time of universal exultation, a season of world-wide gratitude and love.

But when one gets thus far he discovers that he must go farther. Why confine Christmas, some one says, to the month of December? No one can be certain that Jesus was born in December. The New Testament does not say so, nor does the New Testament contain any evidence by which any particular month of the year can be proved to be the month of Jesus’ birth. Plausible arguments have been adduced to prove that his birthday came in September. October also has put in its claim. There are only a few of the twelve months which have not stood up and demanded recognition and honor as the month of the year in which the King of Glory came. Months hitherto silent will no doubt speak later on.

It is evidently not God’s will that we should know in what season of the year Jesus came. Not one of his apostles felt inspired to give information upon that interesting but unimportant point. God has hidden the key to that secret, and nobody knows where to find it. This is the Lord’s doing, and it ought to have a meaning for our eyes. If we do not know the month of Jesus’ birth and if God has so fixed things that such knowledge is forever beyond our reach, why not build the Christmas palace upon the month of January as well as upon the month of December? A two months’ Christmas would be better than a one month Christmas, and as it is impossible to draw the line at the end of January and say thus far shall Christmas extend and no farther, why not take in February, March and April; yes, May, June and July, also August, September, October and November? Are we justified in leaving out any of the months of the year? Do we not call it the year of our Lord? Why not then let him have the whole of it as a suitable memorial of his birth? A Christmas a year long—that would not be too protracted. Christmas all the time—that would be ideal. Always extending merry greetings, always wishing others well, always generous in our giving, always humming the angels’ song, always seeking and praising the King—is not that the sort of Christmas which this world of ours most needs?

Certainly it is the kind of Christmas most pleasing to the heart of Christ. I imagined I heard him saying, as he beheld the Christmas which our civilization had produced: “I hate your Christmas, I am weary of it, because so many of my children are fatigued. It is an abomination unto me because it has rolled a crushing weight on so many hearts. Away with it. It is too small. Build me a more spacious Christmas. Extend the walls of it, until like the New Jerusalem it shall lie four-square, with three gates on each side, so capacious and hospitable that the populations of the earth can bring their glory into it. Let the Christmas season be coterminous with the limits of the year.”

Now when I heard him say this I asked myself the question, Who is sufficient for this thing? Who can build this stately Christmas ample enough to fill a year? To make one day bright and glorious—even this is sometimes hard. We brush away our tears, we crush down in our hearts the dark and fearsome feelings, saying, “This is Christmas Day. I must to-day be cheery, to-day I must wear a smiling face; but to-morrow I will pick up again my burden, to-morrow I will cry again. For the sake of the children I will pretend that I am happy—only for a day.” It is by no means easy to make an ideal Christmas even one day long. Many a time the Christmas crystal palace has been shattered to fragments by stones hurled by the hands of the heart’s foes. To build a palace covering the extensive area of a year, planting a column on each one of the three hundred and sixty-five pieces of that strange mosaic which men call Time, swinging over all a dome full of the light and glory of God’s face—this is an enterprise as difficult as it is stupendous, but one from which no true follower of Jesus ought to shrink.

When I saw that the old Christmas had been really outgrown and realized that a new Christmas must be speedily constructed, I set out at once in search of architects and builders competent for so vast an undertaking. Who, I said, can build a Christmas great enough to satisfy and bless a world? Who can take the walls of our little Christmas and by some magic power extend them until they reach around the borders of a year? So I pondered and I was greatly troubled, because I knew not where to go. Where, I asked, shall wisdom be found?

First of all I went to the learned men, the men who know what the past has been and what the present is. I knocked at the doors of all the universities, beginning with the oldest and ending with the youngest, but in no one of them could I find builders for this new and gigantic work. I then turned to the market-place where men of practical genius are wont to congregate. I mingled with the captains of industry; I glanced down the lines of merchants, bankers, manufacturers, the men who are doing the largest things in our day and generation, and I said in a loud voice, “Can any of you gentlemen build the world a larger Christmas?” and not one voice replied, “I can.”

Thereupon I went to the palaces of kings, where live the great and mighty of the earth, and when I noticed the glitter of the crowns and the gorgeousness of the sceptres I felt encouraged, for I said: “Here is a royal thing to be attempted, and surely royal heads and hearts shall prove equal to the task.” But, alas, at the door of every royal palace the same word was given: “No one here has skill or power sufficient to build a larger Christmas.”

Not yet hopeless I turned to the parliaments of the world and looked into the august faces of lords and senators, of generals and princes,—men who have carved their names in the body of the life of their time, and I said pleadingly: “Can you, or any men you know, come and erect for the world a larger Christmas?” and my question brought nothing but silence for an answer.

I then stole into the study of the philosophers and glided into the groves where walk the poets; I passed from court to court where learned judges sit; I entered boldly into the camp where army and navy leaders study plans for the conquest of the world, and everywhere I asked the same baffling question: “Can you erect for mankind a more spacious and more fitting Christmas?” and in every place the same answer was returned: “Strength and wisdom equal to so great a task do not dwell with us.”