Truth or Dare

December 17, 2000

Luke 1:68-79

As always,

our family plans to go to Paris

for the holidays this year.

Gay Par-ee.
We always fly to France for Christmas.

On the Concorde.
For three weeks.

Love the Champs Elysées.

And that Louvre.

Love the Louvre.

Yeah,

and my sister's family is joining us.

They have eight kids.
She's a brain surgeon.
Her husband is an astronaut.

Yeah, an astronaut

who speaks French.

And Swahili.

Yeah, he speaks Swahili ....

Huh?

Sound like an encounter

with an old Jon Lovitz character

from Saturday Night Live?

Actually,

this brief moment

of utter fantasy

could be the fruits of Korsakoff's Psychosis,

a form of permanent short-term memory loss

in which sufferers

create elaborate confabulations

because one's grasp of reality

has fizzled into oblivion.

We don't fly to Paris

like the family of Home Alone.

Like the guy

in the TV commercial

for Yellow Pages:

"Yeah, I wrote that."

Think you're forgetful?

Can't find the keys?
Can't remember your neighbor's dog's name?

People who suffer from Korsakoff's Psychosis

have no recollection of ever having keys

or of meeting a neighbor,

much less a neighbor's dog.

And so they produce giant fantasies

to make historical ends meet.

A Russian psychiatrist

identified this disorder

a hundred years ago

as one of the more hideous results

of long-term alcohol abuse.

Although KP

can also result from

an accident or a genetic factor,

most sufferers are chronic alcohol abusers

with an extended history of nutritional deficiency.

Many sufferers

bring this disease upon themselves.

Along with the need to

create grand imaginary stories

to fill empty memory tapes,

KP victims may also endure

personality shifts,
episodes of purposelessness,
insomnia,
hallucinations
and general disorientation--

like,

for example,

half the cast of Ally McBeal.

Although it might be easy

to become disoriented

at this time of year,

we generally have learned how to stay focused

amid all the

shopping, party-going, eggnog mixing,

card addressing, tree trimming, house decorating,

neighborhood caroling, gift wrapping, travel planning,

fruitcake ordering.

We've heard --

and listened --

to all those sermons

of the past

that have warned us against

getting caught up in the fable

rather than the truth.

We've learned

to manage Christmas,

just like we've learned to multi-task

everything else in our fragmented world.

In fact,

we've learned

to choreograph Christmas so well,

that meaning has given way to management,

and theological amnesia

has set in once again.

Here's the point:

The confabulations of Christmas,

rather than the true meaning,

have become our reality.

We didn't write the yellow pages;

we're not taking off for Paris with the family.

A jolly guy in a red suit

squeezes himself down the chimney.

Yeah, and he brings toys,

and because he gives gifts,

we all exchange gifts.

And we hang stockings

from the mantle

with more gifts.

Yeah, and there are reindeer

pulling a big sled.

Oh, and one reindeer

has a shiny red nose

that doubles as a searchlight

in the event of a nor'easter.

And Frosty the Snowman comes alive

and sounds just like Burl Ives.

And there is another toy

that saves Christmas.

Oh, and sometimes

we stick a plastic baby

in a little manger scene

and line up the shepherds

and the wise men

and the angels

and the donkeys

and the mother and the father.

And everybody wears red and green.

Is this Korsakoff's Psychosis

or a more familiar Christmas Psychosis

that's pandemic throughout our culture?

The secular trends

and popular customs

are harmless in moderation,

but long-term abuse

of this addictive diet

brings utter disorientation

and ultimately --

death.

Korsakoff's Psychosis

is a form of permanent amnesia.

It brings comfort to create a colorful tale

which makes sense out of the world.

We suffer a form of amnesia as well.

We have forgotten

not only the essence of Christmas.

We have forgotten

why we celebrate it in the first place.

Christmas is a time to remember,

not only the relatively recent past:

The family trips to Grandma's house,

the taste of Mom's spice cake,

the way Dad dressed up like an elf,

the fabulous joke gifts shared last year at the office.

Christmas is a time to remember

our history as God's people.

Zechariah remembered.

Zechariah was filled

with the Holy Spirit

and amazing things came out of his mouth.

Zechariah here remembers

Israel's glorious past

and the God who made it possible.

He connects

what is happening

with what has already happened

with what will happen --

in order to maintain the ancient covenant with Abraham,

this newborn son,

John,

will go before the

soon to be born Christ child

to prepare his way

thus fulfilling God's ancient plan.

Zechariah remembered.

He remembered that God promised redemption --

rescue from all the enemies,

all the fears,

all the dark and deadly realities of life.

Zechariah remembered that

God promised a fresh beginning,

a new dawn.

Zechariah remembered that

God promised to show his people

the path to perfect peace.

What do we remember about Christmas?

Childhood memories,

to be sure,

some of which have been

hyperbolized and sanitized

for our own entertainment and sanity.

There are the funny stories,

the moving stories,

the tragic stories

of the Christmases of our past.

Some of us

have created fantastic mental tableaus

in order to make sense of it all.

Some of us have blocked out

the disappointing reality.

Some of us cannot remember

much of anything.

But here's what we can remember this season:

• At Bethlehem,

  God was in Christ Jesus

• That the child came

  to save us from our sins

• That his name is called

  Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

  Prince of Peace, the Everlasting Father

• That he will reign on David's throne

  for ever and ever

• That this child

  was born to die

• That the Spirit of the Lord

  rested upon him,

  the spirit of wisdom and understanding,

  counsel and power,

  of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.

• That his name Jesus

  means Savior

• That although born in an obscure village

  and to humble circumstances,

  and that although he would

  write no books

  and live publicly in the company of men

  for a brief 36 months,

  no person has left

  such an indelible mark

  on human history

  as this man.

• That the Bethlehem child

  makes the difference

  between a life of quiet desperation

  and a life of meaning, memory and purpose.

If we've forgotten any of this,

we're likely to create

some wild and woolly story

to fill in the blanks.

Maybe something like

savior in a red suit

who drives a miniature sleigh

with eight tiny reindeer.

It's a theological form

of Karsakoff's Psychosis.

What we want

is the Bethlehem blessing

that rests upon us

when we come out of our seasonal amnesia

and remember what's it all about.

Illustrations I found preparing for this soul talk

Three older ladies

were discussing the travails

of getting older.

One said,

"Sometimes I catch myself

with a jar of mayonnaise in my hand

in front of the refrigerator

and can't remember whether

I need to put it away,

or start making a sandwich."

The second lady chimed in,

"Yes,

sometimes I find myself

on the landing of the stairs

and can't remember whether I was

on my way up

or on my way down."

The third one responded,

"Well, I'm glad I don't have that problem;

knock on wood,"

as she rapped her knuckles on the table,

then told them,

"That must be the door,

I'll get it!"

Those teenaged years

may not have been as good --

or bad --

as you remember.

In a study published on Thursday

spanning 34 years

in a group of middle-aged men,

researchers reported that

the likelihood of accurately remembering

events from adolescence

is no greater than chance.

The study from

Northwestern University Medical School

involved 67 mentally healthy men

who were questioned first at age 14

and again at 48

regarding family relationships, home environment,

dating and sexuality, religion,

parental discipline and general activities.

It found significant differences

between what adults remembered about adolescence

and what they said when they were adolescents.

"It is often said that

adolescence is the period in the life cycle

that is most difficult to see clearly,"

said Daniel Offer, a co-author of the report.

"Our study of the emotionally laden experience

of adolescence

as seen through the lens of 48-year-olds

demonstrated that this may indeed be so."

He said the findings

are important

for psychiatrists and others

who have to obtain historical and biographical information from patients.

"If accurate memory

of past events and relationships

is no better than chance

for normal, mentally healthy individuals,

we might expect that the reports of past experiences

by people who are currently medically ill,

psychologically disturbed or otherwise compromised

would be even less accurate," he said.

The longer Mexican immigrants

remain in the United States,

the worse their mental health becomes,

according to a study by William Vega,

a professor of public health

at the University of California at Berkeley.

"This is clearly a social effect,

not a biological one,"

Vega said.

"Mexicans come to this country

with some kind of natural protection

against mental disorder,

and that breaks down very quickly

in American society."

An Australian travel writer touring Canada

was checking out of the Vancouver Hilton,

and as he paid his bill

said to the manager,

"By the way,

what's with the Indian chief sitting in the lobby?

He's been there ever since I arrived."

"Oh that's 'Big Chief Forget-Me-Not,'"

said the manager.

"The hotel is built on an Indian reservation,

and part of the agreement is to allow the chief

free use of the premises for the rest of his life.

He is known as 'Big Chief Forget-Me-Not'

because of his phenomenal memory.

He is 92 and can remember the slightest details of his life."

The travel writer took this in,

and as he was waiting for his cab

decided to put the chief's memory to the test.

"G'dye, myte!"

said the Aussie,

receiving only a slight nod in return.

"What did you have for breakfast

on your 21st birthday?"

"Eggs,"

was the chief's instant reply,

without even looking up,

and indeed the Aussie was impressed.

He went off on his travel writing itinerary,

right across to the East coast and back,

telling others of Big Chief Forget-Me-Not's great memory.

(One local noted to him

that 'How' was a more appropriate greeting

for an Indian chief

than 'G'dye myte.')

On his return to the Vancouver Hilton

six months later,

he was surprised to see 'Big Chief Forget-Me Not'

still sitting in the lobby,

fully occupied with whittling away on a stick.

"How,"

said the Aussie.

"Scrambled,"

said the Chief.