Merry Whatever

John Lennon had it right--that Paul McCartney had given up groundbreaking creativity for writing silly love songs. He said that in 1973 when the breakup of the world's greatest band still touched raw nerves, and the former bandmates seemed to be trying to outdo themselve to prove they were the real reason for the group's astonishing success.

Clearly, something was lost in McCartney's songwriting after the Beatles. While he certainly has enjoyed popular success over the last forty years, tossing off hummable bon mots with about as much effort as most of us use to make breakfast, "groundbreaking" is not how most music fans would describe these tunes. Compare "Ebony and Ivory" with "A Day In The Life" and you'll know what I mean.

It wasn't the spectacle of watching McCartney bring his senior citizen rock moves to Saturday Night Live this past week that has me thinking about the former Beatle, or the fact that his music is finally available on I-Tunes (hurray!!), but that my son picked his Christmas song to try out for a solo slot in his high school's upcoming holiday concert. Isaac didn't get the solo, which I believe has as much to do with the quality of McCartney's carol as Isaac's admittedly shakey performance.

Written in 1979, McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" has taken its place as one of the most often heard songs played on 24/7 Christmas radio stations. Yet, it boasts lyrics so banal that it could be about any family-oriented holiday. OK, that is an overstatement. There are no choirs of children and bells in a song about the Fourth of July, but you get my drift. The song is about feeling good, having a party, being with friends and family--that's Christmas spirit without Christmas message.

John Lennon, who was never a proponent of Christian faith (e.g. "The Beatles are more popular than Jesus"), at least understood that the hope of Peace on Earth was a very good reason to wish Merry Christmas. Yet, for Paul McCartney, there is no gift giving, no peace, no humble, struggling Holy Family. Instead Christmas is all about mood and feelings.

Well, if that's what Christmas is about, maybe we should all just take a Zoloft on December 25, sit home, and listen to Johnny Mathis albums! Seriously, in this weather, who needs a party? Why don the cheesy red sweater and risk grievous bodily harm to drive across town, especially after imbibing a few egg nogs? If feeling warm inside is the goal, then skip the cards and the $10 gifts and just mix me another Hot Toddy, please!

I'm still waiting for Christmas spirit to hit me this season. My wife says I've been a curmudgeon all month--heck I nixed the backyard ice rink, have found plenty of things to do other than shop, and not even faked an effort to start addressing Christmas cards. I know I have responsibilities to bring Christmas spirit to my family--and with that in mind I gamely hung outdoor lights, hoisted an enormous wreath on the front of the house, and even baked some amazing cookies. In a more serious vain, our family's Advent devotions have occurred almost daily--in an admirable effort to remember "the reason for the season." Yet, I'm still left wondering, who's going to bring the Christmas spirit to me this year?

Last night we ended up watching Seven Years in Tibet on television. This visually spectacular film tells the story of Heinrich Herrer, an egotistical mountain climber, whose life was changed by his friendship with Dalai Lama and introduction to Tibbetan Buddhism. With Brad Pitt as the lead, the movie was a Hollywood production that needed mass appeal to earn profits (and recoup the $70 million + production budget). Yet, despite Pitt's almost comical German accent (wonder if he was remembering this role while hamming it up in Inglorious Basterds?), his character showed admirable growth thanks to his encounter with the Tibetan people.

In one scene, Pitt's character was showing off his athleticism to a throng of Tibetans who were ice skating, apparently for the first time. Yet, the Tibetans paid no attention to the flamboyant mountain climber who was performing stunts on the ice, preferring instead to encourage Herrer's companion, another Austrian, who was focused on helping a lovely young Tibetan find her footing on a very slippery surface. Lesson? It's not about drawing attention to one's self that matters, it's all about helping others.

Bereft of the attention of the lovely young Tibetan woman, Pitt's character finds himself taking an awkward, saffron-robed monk by the hand, and guides him across the ice. Ironically, it's this selfless act of kindness that drew the Dalai Lama's attention, watching the whole skating adventure from afar. But for his selfless act, Pitt's character may have never formed a bond with one of the world's most deeply spiritual persons.

Lesson for me? I'll not enjoy authentic Christmas spirit this year unless I find a way truly to give of myself to others. Isn't that what Christ's gift showed us? That by emptying ourselves of power and position, honor and glory, and by humbling ourselves, we learn true purpose and meaning for our lives? Just what will that mean for me? I'm not yet sure. But I'll let you know when I figure it out (probably with some outside help).

Keep your Christmas mood this year Paul McCartney--I'm looking for something more.