"The View From the Ground"

Patrick J. Shanahan

“Lights, Please”

A Plea for Clarity

by Patrick J. Shanahan
12/16/03

Some poor misguided souls view tradition with suspicion. Nothing but archaic echoes of past (repressive) ages, they say. I, like most conservatives, and I dare say most Americans, view things a little differently. Tradition, properly viewed, is an intergenerational “body language,” allowing us to silently communicate with our ancestors and our own early lives, to transcend in quiet ways the barriers of time and pesky mortality. Even those traditions which, on their surface, seem silly and devoid of meaning can tell us much about the things that mattered to our ancestors. Tradition is to be embraced and pondered, not shunned or mocked.

It will be no huge surprise to the reader, then, that I am a sucker for Christmas traditions. Some ancient, some recent (like watching “A Christmas Story” 800 times with my wife). And one, the one U wish to write about today, pe4rfectly indicative of the notion posed above, a shining link to our recent past.

I have watched “A Charlie Brown Christmas” every year since the age of nine. I cannot conceive of a Christmas season without it. It is more, so much more, than a pleasant cartoon. It stands as a perfect snapshot of a nation on the cusp of transition. Of an America that was, and an America that was yet to come. Beneath its façade of humor and seasonal cheer vibrates an undercurrent of sadness, as if Charles Schultz saw what was coming down the road and didn’t like it.

Most readers will be generally familiar with the Peanuts cartoon strip, but many may not realize that it was once the best cartoon strip in the country, and one of the best of all time. The late-60s introduction of Peppermint Patty and Woodstock symbolized the descent of the strip into relative mediocrity, but until that point it was brilliant. Into the mouths of babes were inserted the hopes, fears and dreams of post-war adults, all done with engaging humor, grace and wisdom. “A Charlie Brown Christmas” was Schultz’s high water mark.

Charlie Brown is a masterful representation of “everyman,” and every kid. In “A Charlie Brown Christmas” our everyman wanders in sad and confused, trying to make sense of the meaning of Christmas amidst the changing and somewhat bizarre world of mid-60s America. The first thing to love about the show is that it is unapologetically about Christmas. Not “Holidays,” not Kwanzaa, not Winter Solstice, Christmas. About what Christmas means, and ought to mean, in an overwhelmingly Christian nation. In his search for meaning, Charlie Brown encounters a host of - for lack of a better phrase - “New Age” obstacles that serve to confuse and depress rather than to uplift and illuminate.

He turns to therapy at Lucy’s psychiatry stand and, after a thorough inventory of possible phobias, is told that the key to meaning and happiness is to “get involved.” He encounters the gaudy materialist glitz of Snoopy’s house decoration contest and finds it repellent. An emerging entitlement mentality is found in sister Sally’s twenty-foot-long Christmas wish-list (“I just want what I have coming to me. I just want my fair share.”). Raw greed is displayed in Sally’s disappointment in the sort of presents she usually receives (what she really wants is real estate). Charlie Brown’s efforts to direct the Christmas play are derailed by the short attention spans (ADD?) of his players, who repeatedly ignore him and launch into ana4rchic and vaguely hedonistic dance routines.

Mocked and frustrated and at the end of his rope, Charlie Brown cries out for help: “Isn’t there anybody who can tell me what Christmas is all about?” And there is. Quiet, philosophical Linus steps forward: “I can tell you Charlie Brown. I know what Christmas is all about.” In a moment that still sends chills up and down my spine, he recites St. Luke’s account of the meaning of the birth of Christ in a quiet and utterly real way that cuts like a clean knife through the rancid butter of the clutter and distraction surrounding him.

Looking back, it is clear that Linus has lost. The new age has won. Christmas is no longer about the birth of Christ. The forces of entitlement, therapy, materialism and hedonism have won out, joined now by the forces of righteous Political Correctness. The religious significance of Christmas has been banished to the back rows of our culture, safely kept penned up in some of our more conservative churches. I actually heard a radio spot the other day that started “’Twas the night before the Holidays…” We cannot even say the word Christmas, not even when using the words of “The Night Before Christmas,” for fear of offending the keepers of the culture. And the idea that one could produce a religiously themed Christmas pageant in a public school is simply laughable. Christmas in the public square has become Gap ads filled with over sexualized children singing generic “holiday” tunes.

And now even Charles Schultz is gone. And I fear he has taken Linus with him. But at least we can still gather the kids ‘round, plug in the VCR and bask in the goodness of “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” And know that when Linus softly requests “lights please,” he is asking us all to focus, however briefly, on what truly matters in a world gone mad.