Hansen Wendlandt, Nederland.  Christmas has a tendency to bring out the worst in some people.

The red cup controversy would have been just one ignorant blogger lost in the Internet abyss, except that people’s insatiable appetite for anger seems stronger even than their appetite for corporate coffee. When Starbucks took some snowflakes off their seasonal cups, it was an issue without substance or form, which was a perfect void for politicians to fill. And so, the worst.

Then, Black Friday moves from general anger to specific violence, as America bows to the god of cheap crap we don’t need, who must have been born on the profane day after we give thanks for what we do have. People who haven’t awoken before 6 am all year, are frenzied by their faith in Capit-el to enter the sanctuary of stuff, and fight for their wafer of redemptive sales. And so, the worst.

There is the annual battle over “Merry Christmas” vs “Happy Holidays”. What a war that has been, at least since the foot-soldiers of the persecuted majority took up arms! Legions of people could resist, but most just roll their eyes in an attitude of “What’s the big deal?” Being ignored for your misplaced passion is probably more offensive than being opposed, and so, the foray continues, hence, the worst.

Don’t get me started on made-for-TV holiday movies and popstar Christmas music. That brings out the worst in me.

Christmas brings out the worst in us, but here is the problem that presents: When the wholly unholy manufactured crises recede, who has enough holiday spirit for righteous indignation when the truly meaningful situations appear? When Christmas drives our culture to such lows already, what do we do with helpless Syrian refugees or rampant gun violence? What do we do with anyone who has the ‘bassackward’ gall to suggest that simple access to military grade weapons is a reason to resist aid to Syrian refugees? So the debate, whether or not to punish the victims, for the sins of their victimizers. And so, the worst…

Many years ago St Rita’s Parish and Nederland Community Presbyterian Church teamed up to relocate a refugee family from Cambodia. This happened close enough to the Vietnam War, that I have to assume someone objected, or at least there must have been concerns. Someone must have suggested a Buddhist blockade or registry. Or, perhaps back then fear didn’t trump love, or Trump didn’t fear love, or love didn’t fear Trump, or something like that, so it worked. We brought a family from the other side of the world to Nederland—at least until the poor folks had to deal with our winters; last we heard, they were warm and comfortable in LA in the mid-80s.

Of course, the first Christmas brought the worst out in people too, and the best of humankind. You certainly know the story as it’s passed down—and we’ll offer the kids an appropriately sanitized version on Dec 24th at 5 pm, with Good News for the more contemplative set at 6:30.

After the manger and the angels though, something else happened.

Sometime after Jesus’ birth, Herod the not-so-Great ordered the death of a lot of babies, so that none of them would grow up to take his throne.

(No word if a crazy-eyed ‘gunman’ tried to kill any of the henchmen because his ‘news’ service lied about their selling baby parts, but we digress…) In the midst of terror, Mary and Joseph and their toddler fled, as refugees, to Egypt. No one knows how the family was received, but when they returned, and Jesus grew up—no surprise here—he was particularly sensitive to the irrationality of violence and the plight of “strangers”, as refugees and migrants were known in his sacred book. He then spent his life telling people about, and showing them, peace and hope, joy and love, especially caring for those oppressed and abused.

Yet somehow, Christ brings out the worst in some people. Even as his message resonates in many Jews and Christians, and even in the hearts of people who don’t celebrate or know about him at all, that message somehow falls with a coal-hard thud on others, especially on others who claim a manic allegiance to him. For the life of me, I don’t understand that at all.

I don’t understand how it is that Franklin Graham can be such a pompous jerk, after his father Billy and mother Ruth lived on such a humble quest to follow a sincere Jesus. I don’t know why so many Christians are so paranoid, especially when it comes to Christmas. I don’t know how other people of faith put up with their god-varnished hatred, or how other Christians deal with being lumped together with the loonies.

So, in the face of the worst, I try to remind myself that the values that Christ preached can bring out the best in us. I know that regular folks can enjoy a coffee in one of our fine local coffee shops, and even talk about controversies without losing friendship. I do know that we care about our neighbors in the Nederland area, however we say it on Facebook or show it in silent acts.

I do know that so many of us resist the demonic urge to shop-til-we-drop, and choose to give to charities like the Nederland Food Pantry or Stop Hunger Now. (Last year our community packed over 10,000 meals, which went to children in South Sudan. Help us raise enough money so that you can pack 11,000 this year! At 35 cents a meal, it only takes a little change to make a lot of difference.)

Christmas—and for that matter Hanukkah, Yule and the rest of those holy days—can bring out the best in us, when we take care of the least fortunate and most vulnerable. Maybe we can leave behind some of the nonsense this year, and grow a better world, a stronger town, and loving spirits.