Christmas + Scotland = Weird
Living in a foreign country during a holiday season is, well, weird. Traditions aren’t the same. Festive food is different. Even the Christmas carols aren’t sung to the right tunes. To top it all off, this is my first Christmas ever over which I do not have a long break from work or school. Rather than my seminary colleagues seventeen days off, I’ll have one and a half days off–Christmas afternoon after worship and Boxing Day (that’s what Scots call the 26th…yeah, weird).
Growing up the son of a pastor, this lack of time off does not come as a great surprise. Not only do minister’s not get time off at Christmas and Easter, it’s their busiest time of the year. That said, Dad usually took off the following Christmas, and the family traditionally went to St. George Island for vacation.
Before you start feeling too sorry for me, Megan and I are very much looking forward to Christmas Day itself. We’ll enjoy food and fellowship with family–my aunt, uncle, cousin, and grandparents-in-law–and will actually see more family on Christmas day this year than last.
One weird Scottish tradition which we find both endearing and a bit excessive is the sending of gobs and gobs of Christmas cards. We’ve received over seventy–70!–and we don’t even have many friends!
Some marketing executive somewhere is making huge bucks off these cards as they are generally of very high quality and must cost more than a fish supper. I have no idea how many cards folks send on average, but it must be closer to 100 than 20. Most of the cards contain a wee Christmas greeting and folks will sign their names, or maybe even write a sentence or two themselves.
Don’t get me wrong: it’s great getting the cards. But, when one considers the aggregate time, energy, worry, and expense of sending them, it makes one pause. And to think, most of the cards are being sent from friend to friend, most of whom folks see on a regular basis and will certainly pass on the greetings of the season in person. I did feel quite sorry this week for our local postman, John. When Megan and I spoke to him a few days ago, he seemed pretty haggard and overwhelmed. His workload must have more than tripled in the past few weeks leading up to Christmas.
Now sending millions of Christmas cards is probably not any less weird than fruitcake, egg nog, Christmas lights, or live manger scenes, but come on, it is a bit weird.

Thanksgiving Scottish Style
Unlike 95% of Americans, we didn’t eat turkey on Thursday. In Scotland, you see, Thursday was like any other day–though the great weather did allow for a beautiful game of golf. Instead, Megan and I hosted a Thanksgiving party Friday night.
(for more pictures, click on the turkey…yes it’s a turkey )
My only Thanksgiving away from the states was in Hong Kong while I was on The Global Semester. There, the 26 students and two professors dined on turkey, but also several Chinese takes on the holiday–I seem to remember plenty of shrimp and noodles. No Chinese variety this time, though we did run into several difficulties along the way: no cornbread mix for a corn casserole, canned pumpkin was difficult to find, converting grams to cups is tricky. The final menu included turkey–which, though it was my first attempt at cooking one ended up perfectly edible–green bean casserole, vegetarian stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls, and corn followed by pumpkin bars, pumpkin cookies, apple crumble, and delicious pecan pie brought by Margaret.
We even instituted some American traditions like eating bread with the meal rather than before, not heating the plates before serving, and serving coffee and tea with dessert rather than after.
It’s been interesting to explain Thanksgiving to Scots. Despite some of its historical murkiness, in mainstream practice these days it’s a holiday all about food, family, fellowship, and football. Well, we hosted family who enjoyed fellowship with new friends, ate plenty of food, and even chatted about football (England’s glorious loss last Wednesday). I think we can chalk the night up as a success.

Facebook accounts — one account for professional purposes and another (often more hidden account) for personal purposes.



One of my more conservative friends posted this picture on his Facebook page recently, shared under the headline, “It’s funny, because it’s true.”
I get it. Ironic, right? Maybe so. Yes, the captions make a point, but it’s not one I find compelling. In fact, it illustrates just how important the protests are, and how challenging it is to live in corporate America.
Some folks might argue, I suppose, that if you use buy something from a certain corporation (a MacBook, say), then by that purchase you declare your support for the company. In a market economy, you speak with money. The reasoning goes: if you don’t want to support Apple, don’t buy a MacBook. Simple enough.
I can appreciate the directness of this approach. I wish life were as simple as that. But, it’s not.
If it were, I couldn’t ever complain to a company after I bought their product…but I do.
If it were, I couldn’t lobby my representatives after I voted them into office….but I do.
If it were, I couldn’t both go to church, financially support its ministry, and at the same time work for change within the church…but I do.
In an NPR report by Margot Adler, Occupy Wall Street protester Jason Ahmadi acknowledged this tension. He said, “McDonalds that’s where we use the bathroom. Verizon, that’s how we, you know, give you our live stream that we’re broadcasting.”
And that, my friends, is the lovely, beautiful, challenging, tension of our times. It’s the gray. That’s how I can proudly pay taxes, and advocate the government spend them differently. That’s how I can buy Patagonia long pants, and email them suggesting they make an “extra long” variety as well. That’s how I can say, “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.”
In short, that’s how I live: simultaneously sinner and saint.
So the image above, rather than demonstrating the silliness of the protests, actually illustrates, for me, their great importance. Long live the tension, those who shed light on it, and all who struggle with the questions of our day.