Whenever the holiday shopping begins I usually come to the
conclusion that Ebenezer Scrooge was a man ahead of his time. I
actually like that miserly character who mocked the hypocrisy of
those who pretended charity on only one day a year and then
reverted to their venal souls the day after.
I would have liked Dickens to have written a sequel to A
Christmas Carol. Perhaps he could have called it ``A Return to
Macys or Toys 'r' Us, etc.'' Because isn't that what this holiday
has turned into? Merchandisers can't wait to start the shopping
season and what once began in December now starts at the first
sign of candy corn and Halloween.
This is supposed to be the height of the depression season for
many single people with few family ties but in reality depression
can hit anybody at this time of year. As we become adults and
face the additional responsibilities that family obligations
incur we tend to lose a lot of that requisite bonhomie.
Everything becomes a chore and stress sets in because we feel the
need to get with that holiday spirit which becomes increasingly
elusive.
When my children were small it was easier to slip into that
holiday mood with television specials accenting the excitement
soon to come. Charlie Brown and Rudolf the Red-Nosed reindeer
warmed the heart and incited cookie baking sessions and outdoor
decorating. But after my children grew older and put away their
childish things, I became more inclined to mumble, ``Bah,
humbug,'' and lean back in the recliner.
It seems that every year the battle to get into the holiday mood
becomes harder but this year I was determined to get at the
source of my frustrations and find out why I find it harder and
harder to feel the spirit of Christmas.
Scrooge found his epiphany after searching his soul and his past
life for the reasons for his discontent and I decided to do my
own personal inventory in the hope that it might give me some
insight into my seasonal malaise.
The best Christmas I ever had was my tenth one. My mother gave me
$10 to go shopping and I managed to buy everyone a present. This
was a long time ago and I did my shopping in the local Woolworth
five and dime store. (I feel so old) Anyway, I enjoyed the gift
giving more than the receiving even though the recipients were
probably less thrilled with the awful smelling cologne and cheap
stationery I bought them.
My worst Christmas was in 1986 when I actually had enough money
to buy expensive presents for my children and I became upset
because they seemed to take it all for granted. I don't know why
I felt so disappointed but I was. Since then, I've scaled down
the shopping considerably and there's a limit of $20 maximum per
gift. That's helped a bit.
I also recall that my childhood holiday was tied in very deeply
with the church. St. Cecilia's in Spanish Harlem was an
ethnically diverse parish. While predominantly Hispanic, it still
had many Irish and Italian parishioners and never was the mix
more delightful than at Midnight Mass.
The parish school kids marched down the church aisle in shepherd
costumes singing in Spanish, ``Pastores a Belem,'' and a young
Irish boy would sing the heavenly, O Holy Night, in the sweetest
tenor voice I've ever heard.
But the generosity of community spirit seems distant when I hear
unkind comments from ignorant pseudo-pedants who think they're
making brilliant observations. One such misguided soul remarked
to me that Chanukah gift-giving was promoted so that Jewish
children wouldn't feel left out at Christmastime. Hogwash.
In reality, the feast of Chanukah is more legitimate than
Christmas at this time of year.
Theoretically it is believed that Christ was probably born around
June. The early Christians who were persecuted had to hide their
religious devotions and decided to celebrate the birth of Christ
at the same time that the pagans were celebrating Saturnalia, a
festival of the sun. It seemed appropriate for the early
Christians to celebrate Christ's birthday at the time of the year
when the days become longer to signify that Christ is indeed the
light of the world.
I find it ironic that not much has changed in the past two
millennia. Once again, those wishing to truly celebrate a holy
day must do so in the midst of secular abandonment and pagan
trappings. It is indeed harder to bear in mind the spiritual
meaning behind Christmas because the world is too much with us.
It may be harder but it's not impossible.
I've come to believe that even though the holiday has become
generic and humanist rather than religious this isn't really such
a bad thing. We live in a nation of many different credos. Not
everyone believes in the divinity of Jesus Christ and some don't
believe in any deity at all.
It should not be imperative that a community erect religious
symbols in a public building as long as it does not prevent
religious institutions or private citizens from doing so on their
own property. Instead of making so much fuss about whether crèches
and menorahs are on public property we should all get down on our
knees and be grateful we're not at war.
I'm starting to realize that the big mistake I've been making
every year is expecting the season to seduce me with carols and
lights and uplifting television programs. When it doesn't work, I
feel letdown and disappointed.
Instead I should be asking myself what I myself can do to bring
some joy into the world. Perhaps a cheery word to a harried
cashier; a visit to a sick friend; a gift that makes a child's
eyes light up: a thank you to the firemen, policemen, sanitation
crew, mailmen who deliver the necessary services we depend on: a
greeting card with a loving note to those far away.
Cripes! That sounds insipid, doesn't it. Well, maybe so but it's
working. In fact I feel better already and oh, oh, my gosh, I'm
actually smiling!
God Bless Us Everyone.