In the pew ahead of us on Sunday was a little boy about 6 or 7 years old. Oblivious to what was going on at the altar, and oppressed by the injunction to behave, he paused in mid-wiggle to proclaim,
“Santa’s real, Mama!”
Mother shook her head and said nothing.
The little boy persevered: “Yes, he’s real, but he’s dead.”
Mama ignored him.
“He’s dead, but he still comes,” the child insisted.
Was he confusing Santa with Jesus? (We adults, on the other hand, too often confuse Jesus with Santa, as in, “He’s making a list, checking it twice…”)
Yes, Jesus is real. He died, but he lives, and he still comes. He came as a baby on that first Christmas, and he comes still.
I am reminded of the inscription over the entrance to Carl Jung’s home (the same words are carved on the family gravestone): “Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit” (Bidden or not bidden, God will be present). It is true indeed ― God loves us far too much to stay away.
The word became flesh and dwelt among us,
full of grace and truth.
(John 1:14)