“I think there must be something wrong with me, Linus. Christmas is coming, but I’m not happy. I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel. I just don’t understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents, and writing Christmas cards, and decorating trees and all that, but I’m still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed.”
These lines are an unusual opening for one of our most beloved Christmas films, Charles Schultz and Bill Melendez’s A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965). The movie begins with children ice-skating and singing, and a recognition that Christmas should be a season of “happiness and cheer.” However, Charlie Brown is dumbfounded as to why he cannot feel the merriment of the holiday season. He glumly watches as other children busy themselves by putting up decorations and writing letters to Santa. Charlie Brown’s nickel-pinching ‘psychiatrist’ only reinforces his belief that there is nothing (besides presents) in which he can find hope, and his attempts to buy a puny Christmas tree and to corral the performers of a nativity play lead only to derision and chaos.
Charlie Brown’s sentiments of depression and disillusionment have resonated with Americans for generations because they identify and inadvertently diagnose the holiday malaise which besets so many. The great scale of our Christmas celebrations set an impossible standard for our spirits to match. Are endless holiday parties, wish lists, and decorating contests enough to institute the long-hoped-for ‘peace on earth,’ or to magically found human relationships upon peace, joy, and love? One can hardly blame Charlie Brown for feeling depressed under such heavy, yet obviously unmet expectations.
“I know nobody likes me; why do we have to have a holiday to emphasize it?” the boy asks. Instead of making us merry, Christmas celebrations which are divorced from any higher source of meaning or joy only bring us face to face with our own inadequacy and depravity. Our fallen human nature is not worthy of the grandeur of our celebrations, and we will always fail to live up to the standards and expectations of a holiday which is meant only for enjoyment and entertainment. Charlie Brown knows there must be a higher reason for our celebrations and traditions, even if the culture surrounding him has forgotten it. “Isn’t there anyone who can tell me what Christmas is all about?” he cries.
A spotlight illumines Linus as he answers assuredly, “Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about.” Dropping his beloved blanket, Linus walks on stage to confidently recount Christ’s nativity from Luke 2:8-14.
This passage of Scripture (rather than other nativity passages) is incredibly well-suited to answer Charlie Brown’s doubts and questions about the true meaning of Christmas. It begins by introducing the frightened shepherds, who waited for salvation in the dark of night. The angel who appears to them announces “good tidings of great joy,” because a Savior has just been born—not a mighty warrior, but a “babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” The reaction to this wonderful news is “a great multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’” This retelling of the nativity can be boiled down to two main points: Christ Jesus became lowly like us for our salvation, and he is deserving of our endless praise.
The Bible does not command us to ignore our unworthiness by distracting ourselves with worldly things, but rather points us to our Savior who came down from heaven to be like us and with us. Our unworthiness signals our deep need for his salvation, and bids us to turn our eyes wholly upon Jesus rather than to fixate on helping ourselves. Even before Charlie Brown was reminded of this blessed story, he must have had an inkling of his need for a Savior like himself when he picked out the smallest, lowliest tree of the lot—and one which, coincidentally, was fixed upon a cross-shaped, wooden tree stand.
What Christmas is “all about” is the incarnated Savior who became lowly like us. The idea of this tremendous greatness becoming so small for our sake is too incredible for us to continue thinking about ourselves or our own condition—we can only praise. The film ends with a reflection of Luke’s gospel: the children are gathered round the little tree, singing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” The little tree is swaddled in Linus’s blanket, and Snoopy’s doghouse reminds us of the stable in which Christ was born. The tree is still small and weak, but it is now gloriously bedecked in simple ornaments and illumined with the smiles of singing, cherubic faces.
The true joy of Christmas comes from one place only: it is found in receiving the gift of Christ and in joining in his heavenly praise. This is the joy that inspires and gives meaning to the rest of our holiday traditions and merrymaking. Even the most frivolous celebrations will be truly joyful when they are rooted in the love of Christ and aimed at his praise.
