Once I was asked what Christmas traditions our family had when we were growing up. I suspect the one asking me expected to hear something sweet and sentimental like singing Christmas carols in 4-part harmony in front of the fireplace or reading Luke’s nativity narrative around a lit candle on Christmas Eve. Alas, no such traditions existed in our home. Instead, we Taylors traded sentiment for the hilarity and irreverence of “A Christmas Story.” Leaning heavily on the crude toilet-humor of triple-dog-dares, “major awards,” and pink bunnies, our only real tradition was tuning into the TBS 24-hour “A Christmas Story” marathon beginning on Christmas Eve. Without question, that is my favorite movie—holiday or otherwise.
But it isn’t the hilarity, irreverence, or toilet-humor that has earned my affection. Rather, a living example of the gospel erupts in the climax when the real hero is revealed.
As the story continues to unfold, that becomes the unfortunate refrain, heightening the tension for Ralphie. Trying to earn the sympathy of his teacher, Mrs. Shields, he writes a theme entitled “What I want for Christmas.” Ralphie is confident his essay will establish the fool-proof rationale as to why he should get the Red-Ryder, but the assignment only earns a C+. Adding insult to injury, in bold red letters, Mrs. Shields echoes Ralphie’s mom—You’ll shoot your eye out!
In one final effort, he makes his last, desperate appeal to Santa. Surely, if anyone can come through for Ralphie, it is the big-guy who calls all the shots. Even Santa proves Ralphie’s foil. When finally face-to-face with the department-store Kringle, his misery comes full-circle—You’ll shoot your eye out kid!
Finding no sympathy, no solidarity, and no hope, Ralphie resigns himself to his fate. He’ll be left without the gun and probably have to settle for a football.
Christmas morning is obviously met with great anticipation, but swiftly fades when present after present is, indeed, not a Red-Ryder BB gun. The flurry of wrapping paper finally settles and the last present under the tree unwrapped. In the quietness of the morning, when hope is lost, a despondent Ralphie comes to terms with his fate.
It is at this point when—of all people—Ralphie’s dad “notices” one last gift tucked behind a desk in the corner. Ralphie is encouraged to find out what it is, much to the surprise of his mother. He rips off the paper to reveal—at long last!—a Red-Ryder BB gun!
As the scene unfolds, it is not only the gun that takes everyone by surprise, but who gave it: Ralphie’s dad, the gruff patriarch who shouts profanities at his ancient furnace and has a vendetta against the neighbor’s dogs! Ralphie’s dad is just as excited to give the Red-Ryder BB gun as Ralphie is to receive it. If you can withstand the toilet humor and mild irreverence, the moment when unsuspecting Ralphie receives this gift from his dad is perhaps the greatest two minutes of cinematic history.
And it is a gospel story too.
There is only one thing Ralphie wanted, and he pursued every avenue possible to get it. Mom, Mrs. Shields, Santa Claus—they all let him down. To everyone’s surprise, the plot twist occurs when it was his dad who shocks everyone at the end by giving the gift he knew his son wanted, and giving it without having to be asked.
I do not think it is a stretch to suggest there are significant echoes of Scripture that reverberate in that scene. Humanity is hoping to find answers to all of their problems. We seek answers wherever we can. Like Ralphie pursuing dead-ends, we chase after money, power, government, substances, relationships, welfare programs, public initiatives—even religious endeavors. Quickly we find that none of these ultimately satisfies. We even find these sorts of things so wanting that we renounce them in pursuit of their opposites—philanthropy, hierarchy rejection, anti-government programs, sobriety, cutting off poor relationships…. Spend enough time here and you soon discover them to be just as empty.
As we are chasing after obvious dead-ends, the one thing we aren’t looking toward is God; perhaps we view him as too cold and impersonal to care. Even so, while we were chasing those dead ends, God showed up and gave us the greatest gift possible—the one gift we were looking for all along—and he gave it without having to be asked.
Like a dad nudging his kid to go and find out what’s behind the desk, “When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Gal. 4:4-5). Scripture, both in the Old Testament as well as the New, reveals that God is a generous giver of good gifts. When it came to giving his Son (and if we have a right understanding of the Trinity, when Christ gave himself) he didn’t need to be asked. This in no way implies that right prayer doesn't have a place; certainly it does, as the Bible repeatedly insists. Nevertheless, the Incarnation of Christ—God with us—reminds us that God is a lavish and generous giver of good gifts. And if he was willing to give his very self without having to be asked, how much more will he give us the Kingdom when we do ask!
I love hearing different Christmas traditions. My wife comes from the sentimental-type family that sings carols in 4-part harmony and reads Luke’s nativity to the glowing flame of a Christ-candle. Other families celebrate Midnight Mass and a candlelight service. An entire market exists for families that want matching pajamas for Christmas Eve. My mentor in college had a tradition of hiding a pickle ornament in the tree—a special gift was designated for the first one who could find it.
In our marriage and family, my wife and I have combined some of our unique traditions and started several of our own. But if there is only one tradition of mine that will endure all my life, it will be a family movie night watching “A Christmas Story.” Part of the reason for this is because deep inside of me, there is a latent twelve-year-old boy who still laughs at mildly irreverent toilet-humor. A greater reason is that as the climax develops, "A Christmas Story"
creates a picture of a loving and generous God who knows what we need long before we ask for it, who shows up on our behalf at just the right time, and who is pleased not only to give us what we need, but his very own self—all without having to be asked.
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