24-Dec-2007: Humbuggery
For the past two weeks I've been asked by folks,
Are you ready for Christmas yet? I'm never clear on what they mean by that question. Does it
mean that I have been meditating on the Christian Advent season, reflecting on the grace and hope represented
by this period? Do they mean have I bought all the gifts I am intending to purchase? Do they mean
do I have a decorated tree in my living room, or that my family will be gathering together? They probably mean
all of those things—except the first part about Advent prayer and meditation—, and so I answer "No."
Really. What else can I say?
There's an assumption behind that question that everyone will be celebrating a "traditional" Christmas, whatever
that is. When I was young the kids I knew would scan Eaton's Christmas catalogue, looking for the one toy they wanted
to receive as a gift. We made sure the parents knew what our choices were. Our "tradition" (that lasted only a few years)
was that we would drive to Sarnia where my father's sister, Aunt Gladys, would prepare a magnificent feast. Part of that
visit was a drive around the city to check out the Christmas lights that folks and companies had strung, "Ohing and "ahing" appropriately.
We did not go to church, but Uncle Tom would recite a heartfelt prayer before the big meal. We would receive one gift from each
adult, plus the Eaton's selection from Santa Claus.
So, if that's how things were done for a couple of years when I was a boy, does that make it our "tradition?" What about my wife's
"traditions," or about the bankruptcy of Eaton's? Most of my adolescence was spent Christmas-less. Maybe a mission would organize a special
meal, but, to me, Christmas was a day much like any other, except that the streets of Toronto would be reasonably quiet and
every business was closed. Does the non-celebration count as part of my "tradition?" Even as a single adult male, the only celebration I attended
would be a trip to my sister's, or perhaps a day with the current girlfriend and family.
With the arrival of children, Christmas was resurrected. Ann was firm from the beginning that we would spend Christmas at home as a
family, and that visits to in-laws would take place on other days. We invented our own traditions. For many years we gave the kids an Advent
calendar (Ann made each of them one out of match boxes and felt), and each night after dinner one of the children would be encouraged
to recount as much of the Christmas story as they could, or sometimes they would have to sit through a sermon about Christmas from me and Ann.
We kept trying to stress the humanity of the nativity story and tried to put all the commercial excess and associated pagan rituals within an
appropriate context. So, they grew up knowing that there was nothing "traditional" about decorated trees and excessive gift-giving. We tried to
mute the grandparents' attempts to bury each child under a pile of gifts—most of which would be abandoned after they were opened. However,
grandparents, being our parents, were not so keen about being told by their children how to celebrate a "tradition."
I feel confident in saying that the obsession with huge piles of gifts under a decorated tree is a tradition not much older than about the 1950's.
Much of the world had struggled through nearly two decades of economic depression and war. In North America, especially, as war production was turned into
consumer production, the economy boomed. People had jobs again and had some disposable income. And, after struggling to get by for two decades of want,
they cast about for "traditions" to latch onto. Hence, the mythos of the house with the white picket fence, father always in a business suit, and the children always
cheerful and as respectful as sycophants, was born. And, with it came a sanitized and standardized "traditional" Christmas as presented by Hollywood.
If you are going to talk about "tradition" within the framework of the roughly two thousand years since the birth of Joshua bar Joseph of Galilee, then
be prepared to dump all of the baggage that accompany the event that we call "traditional." For almost that entire 2000 history, Christmas was
no more than a feast day on the church's calendar. Everyday people would gather at the local monastery or cathedral to watch a ritual that was performed
with the priest's back to them, while he chanted something in a foreign language, and then they'd go back to work in the fields. Same as any other feast day.
There were some local customs, dating back to pre-Christianity in most cases, performed around that time of year, mostly in appeasement
of the sun god. The church deliberately set the day to celebrate Christ's birth to coincide with the season of growing darkness and then the return
of the sun. Symbolically, it was a perfect fit.
It was in North America where a new holiday was being created. Queen Victoria had introduced a German-Scandinavian custom of taking a tree indoors and
decorating it with candles to the English speaking world. And whatever the British Queen did, the American aristocracy was anxious to imitate. The Americans
combined the Dutch Sinter Klaas and the German Sankt Niklas to create a new character associated with Christmas, as immortalized by Clement Moore's
poem The Night Before Christmas. The Coca-Cola advertising team created the image of a fat white-bearded man in a red suit for a campaign in 1931.
Other than the name, and a reputation for generosity, I can't see any connection between the modern day Santa Claus and the fourth century Turkish bishop
known as St. Nicholas; hence, my use to the words "new character." Simple gifts had been associated with Christmas for some time, but, it was American extravagance,
Hollywood's considerable influence, and the marketing teams that turned the pagan-Christian celebration into the over-blown, over-hyped, high-stress six weeks of
frenetic purchasing and preparation that we today call a traditional Christmas.
Poverty forced us to cut back on our personal extravagance, and it has been a very good lesson for us. I do not need to receive gifts to know that
others care for and love me. I do not decorate our house with coloured lights; nor do I shake hands with strangers and heartily wish them "A Merry Christmas." I am getting
more reclusive in my aging and less involved with the march of the lemmings, as I sometimes refer to "social advances." Tonight I hope the clouds
will pass so I can marvel at the bright moon and brilliantly-sparkling Mars beside it. That is more "Christmassy" to me than going to a crowded church and
chanting 19th century hymns.
May you be blessed.