Christmas Movies: Where the Hardest of Hearts are Transformed

If you’re anything like my family, you’ve been cozying up on the couch and taking in your favorite Christmas classics. As I’ve gone through the usual stack and reflected on my Advent journey, I’ve noticed themes in the usual favorites that seem almost impossible to ignore: greed tends to go hand-in-hand with loneliness, the redemptive power of love can soften even the hardest of hearts, and Christmas reminds us of the importance of generosity.

And then I think of Mary’s song, how her soul magnified the One who would scatter the proud, bring the powerful down from their thrones. She sang of the hungry being filled with good things and the rich being sent away empty.

It’s something I notice every year, in a way that both grieves me and gives me hope. I grieve because these films are watched annually by so many people from so many different walks of life, and yet, year after year we continue to witness exorbitant wealth being hoarded while families go without resources for food, housing, health care, and so on. But Mary’s song rings in my ears just the same, and these stories still make my heart swell and continue to affirm my belief in the redemptive power of love, through which even the hardest of hearts can be transformed. And maybe, just maybe, it is that collective love that will one day redeem and reconcile hearts to be a little more tender.

I find hope in the Grinch who, despite his plans to steal Christmas from the people of Whoville by taking their presents, witnesses the town awaken to the day with joy. Even without ribbons, and tags, packages, boxes, or bags. And in Whoville they say that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day. Because Christmas day will always be just as long as we have we.

In A Christmas Carol, I find hope in that well-known curmudgeon, Ebenezer Scrooge, who thinks Christmas is all a bunch of humbug. No offense to Charles Dickens, but for the purposes of this conversation, I’m definitely referencing The Muppet Christmas Carol, because we all know it’s the best. Once he recognizes the loneliness of his wealth-hoarding and work obsessions, which are to the detriment of what could be a full and grateful life, his change of heart becomes a commitment to generosity (just in time for Miss Piggy to change her mind about choosing violence).

It is almost as if Scrooge’s song is a response to Mary’s:

“With an open smile and with open doors I will bid you welcome, what is mine is yours. With a glass raised to toast your health, and a promise to share the wealth!”

The beloved movie, Elf, gave us Walter Hobbs, who grows from an insular, work-focused cotton-headed ninny-muggins to a loving father who embraces Buddy as his son, writes children’s books about his adventures, and welcomes the Christmas spirit. Here, too, I find hope.

In Christmas Vacation, when Clark Griswold receives a one-year membership to the Jelly of the Month Club instead of his usual Christmas bonus, Cousin Eddie takes the liberty of kidnapping Clark’s boss. And in the ensuing hostage situation, Clark’s boss is actually scolded by his wife AND the SWAT team for not giving bonuses, leading to a change of heart. (Okay, maybe not this example, don’t kidnap your boss, but you get the idea.)

Hope is the theme of the first Sunday of Advent, and it enriches each of the following themes. It can be hard to hold onto hope that people might change, and there is an awful lot of awful in the world. But the peaceful nature of Buddy the Elf, the infectious joy of the people of Whoville, and the love given by a simple phrase, “God bless us, everyone,” has the power to bring out the best in people. And I will continue to hold onto that hope, as long as we have we.