A truce for the holidays

History has many examples of military combatants setting aside their fight for special occasions. Our War Between the States produced many personal tales of cease fires to allow care for the wounded or recovery of the dead. Sentries sometimes would arrange trade of food or tobacco between the lines. Religious holidays that both sides had in common, Easter and Christmas particularly, were times when local exchanges of seasonal good will were offered. The most well-known Christmas cease fire may have occurred during the Great War near Ypres, Belgium in 1914. In this case, British and German troops actually came out of their lines to sing together, trade souvenirs and food, and to bury their dead. Smaller versions of this Christmas truce occurred later in the war but they were officially discouraged and made less likely by the increasing horror of that particular war.

In thinking of Christmas, I’m reminded of strange tales I’ve seen and heard about people unable to understand the mentality behind these truces. Surely, the German, French, British, and Canadian troops that took a few minutes away from the war were not also laying aside their patriotism or whatever convictions they had regarding the issues surrounding the war. Many had likely known friends who died at the hand of the enemy they now wished “Merry Christmas.” But they were all lonely men, far away from home on what is either the best or worst night of the year for those who celebrate Christmas. For that night, they had that in common—that plus the hope that their lives would not always be full of mud, blood, and slaughter.

Some of us are unable to understand that the real offenses and important differences that divide people, even family members, are not always the most important issues of the moment. We are prone to forget that we are also far from home, living in a world that will not always be filled with the mournful sounds of battle.

I think of those who will not attend the funeral of a parent because they disagreed over a business matter. I’ve heard of parents who do not attend the wedding of a child to avoid seeing an ex-spouse—even of children who do not invite parents to a wedding because of some earlier battle. And brothers and sisters sometimes will not even contact one another for years at a time because of nothing any of them count as crucial—just pride and unforgiveness.

Is this the way things are always going to be? No, the redemption story that begins in Genesis 3 does not end there by a long shot. There is a disarming and leveling humanity about the most exalted or debased among us as we sit together in a funeral home or around a Thanksgiving meal. And here I don’t mean only the fallenness of humanity but the person inside who longs for something more perfect than his normal experience of life. We are, each of us who follows Christ, creatures who groan within ourselves and eagerly await the manifestation of the sons of God. Now and again, it is appropriate that we should behave as though this is true.

Friends, surely you know that I do not subscribe to the “don’t talk about religion, sex, and politics in polite company” rule of etiquette. Polite company need not be the exclusive domain of airheads, I think. I’ve more than once been lifted intellectually and spiritually by conversation with others in the most polite company I know. But we also know when our conversation about the most important subjects of life is merely impish, divisive for the sake of our own amusement. We know when we are disturbing the peace inappropriately.

I’m blessed to remember my grandparents, and even my great grandparents. My Great Grandma Garrison was a pious gentle lady who grew up in the country. When I knew her, you could walk from her house to the homes of three of her children in less than 30 minutes. Great Grandma wouldn’t let us hunt squirrels on Sunday afternoon because “nothing should die on the Lord’s day.” I don’t remember any of us being inclined to ignore her opinion. There is a hierarchy in extended family that gentled me. Quarrels with my siblings or parents were set aside at Granny’s house or Great-Grandma’s house. It just felt like a reasonable respect. No one had to tell me that my own pettiness and cruelty were too ugly for these audiences with our clan matriarchs. It was an understanding of etiquette that clearly showed that all of us knew what mattered and what could be put aside for a bit.

If you’re blessed with loved ones you’ll see this Christmas, honor the occasion as a preview of what will be rather than a tired rehash of past outrages. Maybe there is someone conspicuously not present or welcome as you gather around the table. Just for once, wouldn’t it be a relief to leave past grievances outside? We often regret not having done that after it’s too late for anything but regret.

Christmas, above all holidays, can be about the promise of redemption. That redemption was planned, even accomplished in Heaven before the foundation of the world. In our present-tense life it became substantial when the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. God’s sons and daughters can celebrate that by doing more than singing the best music and reading the best things in the Scriptures. We can try to see those we rarely understand as fellow shepherds and kings who come before the newborn Savior because our spirits groan within us. We need peace, and not for just this one glorious night.