TAKE YOUR MITTS OFF THE CRECHE!

Would you please do me a favor? Stop fooling with Baby Jesus in the village square. And while you’re at it, don’t interrupt the kid singing Silent Night in the holiday pageant.

It’s been years since this rabbi objected to public displays of crèches, menorahs and Kwanzaa symbols. I am a card-carrying member of the ACLU and Anti-Defamation League, yet I am increasingly steamed by the absurdly radicalized efforts backed by court orders to strip Christmas of its Christianity in the American heartland.

Angry folks on both sides of the battle line have missed the boat entirely on how they are trying to justify or protest public displays of religious faith. Falwell, O’Reilly and the alphabet-soup of First Amendment advocacy groups are equally to blame for the most egregious error, focusing the vituperative debate on whether or not America is a “Christian country.” That argument leads to the ultimate conclusion that a majority may strong-arm religious preferences into the public sphere by highly questionable grandfather clause (Benjamin Franklin a Christian?) or mob rule.

We do, however, have a different way of looking at the controversy that might actually resolve the acrimony and grief. It would entail rethinking the dual significance of the means by which each faith articulates its cherished beliefs. There can be no doubt, for example, that a devout Christian sees the crèche as a powerful affirmation of faith. It is, per se, a religious symbol. Yet, for others of us – and dare I say even many Christians – it is an element of holiday décor and culture, one that consecrates the season more than a particular religious event. It need not lose its distinctly religious symbolism for a devout Christian, while adding rich holiday ambiance for the rest of us.

Dare I also say that the distinction often made between a public crèche and a public menorah is a nullity? Yes, the menorah is a beloved symbol of Jewish culture, history and celebration, a charming contribution to the seasonal melting pot. But, when faithful Jews kindle it, we affirm that it is “a commandment sanctified our God.” Thus, the public menorah, too, must be appreciated for both its distinctly religious and celebratory seasonal presence.

Kwanzaa is likewise full of beautiful African culture and symbolism. For many African Americans, however, is not merely cultural, but also an affirmation of faith, that pre-dated slavery and that brings African Americans a unique sense of identity. Should Kwanzaa, too, be denied its dual role as articulation of faith and public contributor to the community’s fabric?

Foolish us. We have already dealt with this inanity and simply do not realize it. The public domain is resplendent with Santa Claus, who for us is just that “jolly old elf.” But, you do not have to be a Church theologian to know that St. Nicholas of Myra is also a consecrated religious figure with his own day in the liturgical calendar and patron to 40+ causes. And the beloved Christmas tree, its source in the idolatry of the Druids? Who out there is shouting, “Pagans!”? Ah, you say, mere symbols that have transcended their sanctified origins? Don’t tell that to a Catholic born on December 6 or your local Wiccan.

My liberalism chokes on these words, but political correctness is a once healthy organism that has grown malignant, as it ventures to bleach once vivid colors out of the public square. Why are we sentenced to hearing sonorous etudes instead of the tumultuous Marching to Zion or The Lord is My Light? And why should the God once enrobed in multi-textured majesty be constricted in a straitjacket of papier-mâché? For fear of offending someone, we wind up offending everyone, or at least inspiring no one. Why aren’t the public thoroughfares the best place for reveling in a rainbow of sanctified symbols at a season consecrated even more by shared visions of peace and goodwill as they are by theological particulars?

When all is done, none of this Christmas hubbub is even vaguely about “majority rules.” To the contrary, it is about mutual appreciation as the sine qua non of a healthy public covenant: The forms and symbols of religious expression that are unique to your faith and mine are the very colors that give lustrous character and dimension to our beloved community. They may be “religious” to you and “cultural” to me, and vice versa, but in the spirit of “peace on earth, goodwill to men” and the beauteous bounty of the season, can’t we both just give a little on this one?