I have grown weary of George Michael’s “Last Christmas” over the years. This hit song, released in December 1984, was one of the few tracks that radio stations in Lebanon consistently played during the holiday season while I was in seminary there. Then, in the mid-’90s, the German band Mr. President released a Christmas version of their hit song “Coco Jamboo,” which slightly broadened the repertoire of Christmas music on the radio.
I have always loved Christmas music. During my first few years after moving to the United States, I often tuned into terrestrial and satellite radio to enjoy the seasonal tunes. During my seminary days in Lebanon, I also made it a personal tradition to listen to the Canadian singer/songwriter Loreena McKennitt’s albums, “A Winter Garden” and “To Drive The Cold Winter Away,” at least once during the season—a tradition that continues to this day.
However, as I delved deeper into my theological training, I no longer enjoyed more secular, commercial Christmas music. I began to critically observe how we have diminished the mystery of the incarnation of Christ, transforming it into secular celebrations marked by gift-giving, corporate parties and festivals. I questioned how Santa and his eight tiny reindeer related to Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem, where surely no reindeer existed. And as I heard it over and over again, I wondered how the pain of an unreciprocated romantic gesture in Wham’s “Last Christmas” connects to the observance of Christ’s birth—absolutely nothing!
I no longer wished to listen to commercial Christmas songs, and I felt irritated while shopping in malls as holiday music played to encourage continuous consumerism. I would also nod in agreement with those who proudly displayed “Keep Christ in Christmas” bumper stickers.
I once heard a well-spoken Catholic priest jokingly say in one of his sermons that “priests in purgatory have to endure listening to every sermon they have ever preached to experience the agony they caused to people over the years.” I still listen to my past sermons—not just as a form of earthly torture, but also to reflect on where I was mentally and spiritually when I delivered them and to see how I have grown (if at all) since that time.
In one of my old Christmas sermons, I reflected on the nativity scene of Christ. The manger we set up by the Christmas tree includes baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph accompanied by some domesticated animals like cows, sheep and, perhaps, a donkey. It also features the shepherds from nearby and the wise men from the East. The shepherds represent the simple, uneducated and unassuming among us, while the wise men symbolize the powerful, wealthy, educated and influential. You have a place in the nativity scene regardless of which group you identify with, I told my listeners.
As I heard these words replayed, I realized that embracing the gift of nativity is more than just a theological concept to understand intellectually. If God can work through both the rich and the poor, the meek and the mighty, surely God can also work through all types of music and art. Perhaps, I realized (as my heart grew three sizes), that the incarnation of Christ brings renewal to all creation—including those whose hearts are broken due to unreciprocated romantic gestures and to the reindeer who struggles to find his role—in ways unique to God and his eternal grace, ways that go beyond my comprehension.
I attended my son’s high school Christmas concert recently. The concert featured performances by the school orchestra, and my son plays the violin and is part of the chorus and the band. Each group performed a mix of Christmas carols and popular holiday songs. To my surprise, the last piece the orchestra played was Wham’s “Last Christmas.” After the orchestra finished, the chorus walked through the auditorium’s aisles singing “Jubilate Deo.” Then this beautiful Gregorian chant was followed by “Christmas Is All Around,” a song featured in the hit movie “Love Actually.”
The sweet blend of modern and traditional, sacred and secular music stirred powerful emotions within me. I fondly remembered watching Dolores O’Riordan, the late singer of the Irish band the Cranberries, perform a nativity concert in the Vatican in 2001. Her blend of hit songs and Christmas carols, along with her lullaby-style singing, brought light to my heart during a time when I was going through a dark period in my life.
As I reflected on my thoughts and emotions, I recognized that I had returned again to that sermon: There is a place for everyone in that manger because God chose to be with us in our everyday struggles and joys. When we pray “thy Kingdom come,” it is because we want God to continue being our Emmanuel as we embrace both our joys and challenges in our daily lives.
Upon returning home, we watched “Love Actually” and enjoyed family time together. Later that night, I listened to George Michael’s “Last Christmas.” To my surprise, it sounded far less cheesy and maybe even pointed toward something True.
