In Praise of "The Little Drummer Boy"

Christmas art can easily veer toward the kitschy. (Think Hallmark movies and ugly sweaters.) So can Christian art. (Think “faith-based” movies that are really just Hallmark movies with altar calls, and goofy bumperstickers.) As a piece of Christian Christmas art, then, the song “The Little Drummer Boy” would seem to be exponentially kitschy.

I am thinking not just of the song’s incessant parum-pum-pum-pah-ing, but the preposterous premise. It is far-fetched to think that a newborn would enjoy hearing a drum solo. The instrument is about as unsuitable to the occasion as truck horns for a mass. Even for non-infants, the sound of a single drum wouldn’t be all that pleasing to listen to on its own. Dynamic percussion generally requires multiple drums with varying textures and tones. The songwriter could have given the boy a melodic instrument: a trumpet, a harp, or the bagpipes. But the chosen instrument is a drum, and the performer is a poor boy. He is poor, so it’s probably a cheap, tinny-sounding drum. He is a boy, so he’s probably not well trained. If we consider, in addition to all this, the inclusion of Disneyfied animals who join in the performance, we might wonder how this song could be taken seriously, covered as it has been with a straight face by countless musical artists.  

But I didn’t come to bury the song but to praise it. The song is as appropriate for a collection of serious Christmas carols as it is for a kindergarten pageant, because despite its kitschiness—or perhaps precisely because of it—it gets at a theological truth that Christians who make or critique art would do well to remember.

Artists can take themselves far too seriously. So can Christians, and Christian artists exponentially so. But we need to realize that the greatest, most formally accomplished and theologically orthodox work imaginable, made with the purest and most God-honoring motives possible, would still be, at the end of the day and across the threshold of eternity, the equivalent of a toddler’s monster-that’s-supposed-to-be-mommy crayon drawing magnet-tacked to the refrigerator. Next to the glory of God, we are all the little drummer boy, and all are our works his stark staccatos. But that doesn’t mean the art we bring to God is valueless. Far from it.

My favorite rendition of the song comes from the band MercyMe’s 2005 album The Christmas Sessions. Their version crescendoes with the boy’s performance, then it quiets down and ends two lines early, with “Then, he smiled at me.” 

That’s the point, the beauty of this strange, silly song. The point is not the boy or his drumming. The point is the pleasure Christ takes in even this lowliest and least likely of offerings. For any loving parent, a crayon drawing is a masterpiece gracing the kitchen as the Mona Lisa graces the Louvre. Likewise, God delights in what we bring him, if for no other reason than that it came from people He made in His image and then redeemed by the blood of His only begotten, beloved Son. So the song’s message, for the artist, is to do like this little drummer boy: play your best for Him, for His pleasure, finding your reward in His delight.  

This message is also for those who critique art. It carries with it a gentle rebuke for those who look down upon works that don’t measure up to their standards, upon those who make them, and upon those who enjoy them. I am reminded of what Anton Ego says in Ratatouille: 

In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.

This is not a license for mediocrity. The little drummer boy plays his best. Excellence should still be our aim, to create or to find the very best in any medium. But we must remember that while God’s standards are infinitely higher than ours, He is also infinitely more receptive and charitable. He finds beauty in thousands of places we fail to look.

But this message is really for all Christians, not just the artistically inclined. I was reflecting recently on two of Jesus’s parables. In Luke 7:7–10, Jesus describes servants who do their master’s bidding simply because it is their job, not because they expect any reward for it. He tells his disciples, “So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’”  Yet in Luke 19:11–27, the master praises the servant who successfully invested his money: “Well done, good servant!” In Matthew’s version of the parable, the master continues, “Enter into the joy of your master” (25:21).

Both parables are true. Even when we obey God and do what’s right, we shouldn’t do so demanding recognition. We’re just doing what we’re supposed to. After all, we don’t give people medals each day they show up to work to provide for their families. Besides, our work is always imperfect, always marred by our finitude and fallenness. And yet, God still praises us for it. He still delights in our obedience. That’s amazing grace, that He really does smile upon us. And that is why “Little Drummer Boy” is Christmas kitsch I will warmly embrace.