How Fredrick the Gingerbread Rabbit saved Christmas

Once upon a time, in a frozen land surrounded by mountains, two women were baking delicious goodies in preparation for the Christmas season.  The gingerbread dough had been lovingly mixed, using an ancient recipe from days when wizards and elves still roamed the lands, handed down, mother to daughter, for endless generations.  Perhaps some of the ancient magic still lingered around, for when the dough had been cut, decorated, and baked, Fredrick the Rabbit suddenly found himself conscious of being.

"Who am I?  Where am I?  And who in the world thought of making gingerbread into a rabbit shape for Christmas?!"  His tiny gingerbread brain whirling with first thoughts, he looked around with his one eye.  Unfortunately, having never seen anything before, he had no idea what he was seeing now.  Having no discernible limbs, he was not able to stumble to his feet, but he found he was able to scoot a little, so he began to scoot along the surface he was on.  

He was scooting along merrily when suddenly he felt something pushing against him.  Finding that he could speak, in spite of the limitations of his gingerbread voice box, he spoke: "Hello?  Someone there?"

"Cluck, cluck, cluck," another voice answered.  

"Hmm," he thought.  "They must not speak ginger-rabbit."  Cleverly switching to the trade language of all gingerbread creatures (gingerese) he tried again.  "Hello?  Who are you?"

This time the answer came back in oddly accented gingerese, "Hello? I am Henrietta the gingerbread hen.  Who are you?"

Fredrick tried to smile engagingly as he answered, but found it impossible without a mouth.  "I am Fredrick, the gingerbread rabbit!"

"A pleasure to meet you sir, though a rabbit is hardly a common gingerbread creature to come across."  Henrietta sniffed with a sense of superiority.

"Well, a hen is hardly usual at Christmas time either," retorted Fredrick.

It might have turned into a full-fledged argument if they had not been interrupted at that moment by a loud sniffle.  Looking around with their sugar eyes they saw this:

Henrietta gasped.  "Are you a wolf? Please don't eat me!"

A low moan escaped the creatures gingerbread lips.  "No, I'm not a wolf.  I was meant to be a reindeer but the person making me carelessly allowed my antlers to fall off.  So now I'm Caleb, the gingerbread dog, and I'm just as much of a Christmas misfit as either of you.  Plus, I don't even have an eye so I can't even cry about it."

As Henrietta and Fredrick scooted closer to Caleb in an attempt to offer him some form of comfort, they heard a small "quack!"

"I beg your pardon!" said Fredrick who had felt one of his ears jab something.

"You really must watch where you put those things," a small, squeaky, and yet pompous voice replied.  "I," it continued, "am Handel, the gingerbread duck."

Fredrick felt an appalling compulsion to giggle at this ostentatious pronouncement but quickly stifled it.  While he was choking back his mirth, Caleb, showing a surprising amount of curiosity for a gingerbread dog with no eye, questioned, "What an odd name.  Why are you so called?"

The duck put his bill in the air proudly, "As you no doubt realize, ducks are not associate with Christmas.  Handel the composer, however, is.  Thus, by calling myself Handel I find a way to fit into this Christmas environment."

The other gingerbread animals tried to applaud this display of brilliance but found that they had no hands and so gave up on that show of support.  They were debating the wisdom of all changing their names to reflect a more Christmas-y spirit when they noticed one more gingerbread creature scooting up to their group.  They looked at him expectantly.

"Hi!  I'm Ian the gingerbread donkey!" said Ian the gingerbread donkey.

"My, what a friendly fellow you are," said Henrietta.

Fredrick glanced at him suspiciously.  "You look more like a horse to me," he said.

Ian snorted.  "My name is Ian," he said, "which pretty much means I'm a donkey."

"Oh.  Good point."

Fredrick looked around.  He wasn't sure how a rabbit became a leader of a gang of gingerbread creatures, but that was clearly what had happened.  He made his first pronouncement as a leader: "Friends, country-men, fellow gingerbread misfits!  Clearly we have been called into existence for a reason!  Christmas must need saving!  And we will save it!"

Caleb looked confused. "What, exactly, is Christmas, and how, exactly, does one go about saving it?"

No one answered.  They all glanced around uneasily, unwilling to admit that none of them had any clue how to answer those questions.

Handel glared knowingly at Caleb. "I know what Christmas is, but I don't have the time or patience to explain it to you fools."  He sniffed, as if to show off his superior nostrils.

The confused silence was broken by Henrietta, who had just broken up with her boyfriend, Roger the Rooster.  She thought that maybe saving Christmas could have something to do with getting revenge on him.  They all pictured that for a moment...

...and then decided that whatever Christmas was, it probably had very little to do with sticking knives through a fake man in search of catharsis.  Henrietta was a little sad that her idea had been rejected, but recovered quickly when they visited a huge Christmas tree and Handel the duck asked her out on a date.

With that crisis averted, Ian the donkey took a moment to ponder.  "Hmm...." he thought.  "We are all sort of barn animals...and I seem to somehow know that the first Christmas took place in a stable or something.  Maybe we should visit our roots."  He shared this thought with the other gingerbread animals.  Fortunately, none of them recognized the incongruity of having gingerbread animals in a barnyard so they set off to make Ian's idea a reality.

Though they nearly froze their gingerbread ears and tails off as they tramped about the snow of the barnyard, they realized how blessed they were to be alive in a world where God had become flesh, and how fortunate they were to have a gingerbread "family" to be with during the season.

And with that, feeling confident that they had saved Christmas at last, they rode off into the sunset.

...they may have also been eaten, as tends to happen with gingerbread...

The Christmas Stroll

Here in Bozeman, the annual Christmas stroll is as much a part of Christmas as...these decorations:

I believe at one point the city of Bozeman tried to dispose of these decorations.  I mean, let's be honest, they're old, kind of scraggly, and THEY LOOK LIKE GIANT INVERTED SPIDERS. Public outcry was so great, however (probably from crazy people like me who can't feel like it's really Christmas without them), that the lighted spiders still appear every year, suspended between buildings on Main Street.

The feeling of the stroll is a lot like the Jerusalem Light Festival (for those of you who experienced that), just smaller and waaaayyy colder.

Yes.  That's Fahrenheit.  Luckily, it stayed above zero this year.  Some strolls aren't so warm.  

The stroll kicks off around 4:30.  Detours go up earlier in the day, forcing all traffic away from Main Street as different organizations set up their booths to sell a variety of food and (hot) drinks.  

Katie enjoys a "Big Apple" from the Leaf and Bean

Things don't really start hopping until after dark, when the spiders have been lit for the night and the cold begins to seep into one's bones.

Notice a lot more people in this picture than the previous one.

Some highlights from this year include (but are not limited to):
Alpacas!

 A living Christmas tree handing out candy.

 Gingerbread houses.  I think this one was my favorite.  The look of stone work and stained glass reminded me of Israel.  Also, the whole square-castle-surrounded-by-a-moat look reminded me of Belvoir.

 This creative contraptions that roasted marshmallows.

 A nod to Hanukkah.  (Chag Hanukkah Sameach!)

 A Living Nativity.  It was good, really, but having spent last Christmas in Israel, and Christmas Eve in Bethlehem, I had to laugh.  The picture of the nativity commonly held here is NOTHING like reality.  Well, both have a baby.  I guess that's something.

 A lady and her sheep.

 Turkey legs!

 There were, of course, the usual number of run-ins between dogs and meltdowns by overly tired and cold children, but overall it was a good stroll.  And now it officially feels like Christmas time.

Questions

This semester I've been TAing a class on Genesis where one of the major emphases has been on learning to ask good questions.  Accordingly, one of the most recent quizzes I graded required the students to ask three good questions about Genesis 26.  As I read through the questions I found that a good number of students had similar questions about verses 16-25:

And Abimelech said to Isaac, “Go away from us, for you are much mightier than we.”  Then Isaac departed from there and pitched his tent in the Valley of Gerar, and dwelt there.  And Isaac dug again the wells of water which they had dug in the days of Abraham his father, for the Philistines had stopped them up after the death of Abraham. He called them by the names which his father had called them.  Also Isaac’s servants dug in the valley, and found a well of running water there.  But the herdsmen of Gerar quarreled with Isaac’s herdsmen, saying, “The water is ours.” So he called the name of the well Esek, because they quarreled with him.  Then they dug another well, and they quarreled over that one also. So he called its name Sitnah.  And he moved from there and dug another well, and they did not quarrel over it. So he called its name Rehoboth, because he said, “For now the LORD has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.”  Then he went up from there to Beersheba.  And the LORD appeared to him the same night and said, “I am the God of your father Abraham; do not fear, for I am with you. I will bless you and multiply your descendants for My servant Abraham’s sake.”  So he built an altar there and called on the name of the LORD, and he pitched his tent there; and there Isaac’s servants dug a well. 


The students noticed that
1. Isaac was mightier than Abimelek and
2. The disputed wells were all on land that God had promised to give Abraham and his descendants.
Therefore, they wondered, why didn't Isaac exercise his might and right and simply fight for control of the land?

It's a valid question, though I find its implications rather disturbing.  (Before I enumerate why, allow me to say that I in no way mean to criticize the students for asking it.)

There are two implications to this question which really stand out to me:
1. Might makes right.  If we have the ability to take what we want, there is no reason we shouldn't do so.
2. Having God on your side gives you more rights than others.
Both of these have interesting religious and cultural significance which I'd like to examine further.

1. Might makes right.
a. While this (hopefully) does not reflect Christianity as much, it does seem to reflect many of the cultural values alive and well in America today.  Look out for number one.  We're often encouraged to take what we can, without regard for how our actions may affect those around us.
b. I think this, especially in the context of Genesis 26, also indicates how far our lives are removed from war here in America.  It's easy for us to say, "Why didn't Isaac fight?" when we can't picture the suffering that would have resulted from such a feud, on both sides.  Isaac may have won in the end, but at a huge cost.  Some may argue that God might have helped Isaac win without loss of life on his side, which leads well into the second point.

2. God on our side.
This is a touchier subject, especially since the context of the passage leads pretty easily to a comparison to modern Israel.  Therefore, before I start, I offer the disclaimer that I don't intend this as criticism of Israel or the Jewish people.
a. As Christians, I think it is easy for us to look at the Bible and say something like, "Oh, God says this is wrong.  Let's go stop it!  After all, God is on our side."  Generally this results in disaster.  Some examples might include prohibition, or the modern political fight against homosexuality or abortion.  While I would agree that drunkenness, homosexuality, and abortion are all wrong, I am not sure that legislation is the best way to impose our values.  And, in spite of our conviction that "God is on our side," such legislation seems to fail pretty regularly.  Sometimes this conviction comes out in other ways, like with angry people leaving rude theological comments on blog posts, so convinced that they are right and "God is on my side."  As if we have a God-given right to be rude and offend people.
b. I think this also reflects on many Christians' attitudes towards Israel and Palestine.  "The land was promised to Abraham and his descendants.  Therefore, the Palestinians have no right to be there."  Such oversimplifications are common and bother me considerably.  At the very least they forget that Abraham and his descendants were to be a blessing to those around them and that they were to take care of strangers.  More than that, though, such an attitude totally fails to take into account reality.  Do the Jews have a right to the land?  Maybe so, but that does not negate the fact that much of that land is currently occupied by a different ethnic group who have their own rights as humans.  I think that sometimes we forget that the God who gave such promises to Abraham is the same God who said, "Love your neighbor."  Living here in America, far removed from everything over there it's as easy for us to say "Isaac should have just fought Abimelek" as to say "The Jews should have all the land and push out the Palestinians" and ignore all the possible negative consequences of such actions.  Abimelek and the Palestinians may not be part of the promised people, but they are not impervious to salvation either and therefore still deserve our consideration.

To sum up, I think it is far too easy for us to simplify both Biblical and modern situations and make judgments without stopping to consider all the facts.  If I may suggest, let's try to take time and listen to both sides and consider the consequences before we jump into foolish action.