Christmas as Cultural Oppression

Despite about our many hopes and fears about the current political situation, Christmas is barreling down on us all like a Mac truck driven by an insane maniac in red pajamas. We are all pedestrians in the crosswalk of the dream who can’t quite move fast enough to get out of the way. For many of us, Christmas easily becomes a time of enforced gaiety and compulsory consumption. I find myself skating on the thin ice of the pond of resentment and loneliness. The holidays are a perfect time to feel terminally different and fully left out.

Whatever we are planning or doing can never live up to the images many of us carry: an unblemished nuclear family sitting around a meticulously decorated Christmas tree (neither too big nor too small) opening truly thoughtful presents that bring great joy to all. Who can compete with the images of holiday perfection that tramp through our heads like malicious sugar plum fairies?

For me, it takes an intentional act of defiance to break through the oppression of these cultural expectation and stay human amidst the rush and flurry.

One friend told me she spent last Saturday making Christmas decorations—in itself not a very remarkable activity. But she said she did it with a Syrian refugee family that recently moved into her community. She made the trip to Michael’s and came prepared with all the supplies. The whole family gathered to spend the time trimming the tree while the mother sang Christmas carols in Arabic. Who knew that even in Syria, Christmas is celebrated as a secular holiday.

Another friend has decided to spend Christmas alone. Though he has several offers, he has decided to spend a quiet day at home with his friend. I was amazed to hear of his intention as I wasn’t aware that this is was an allowable option in polite society. Of course we are always alone wherever we go. Even in the midst of friends and family, we are still an island of consciousness in the midst of the large sea of life. But we are also always part of the family of human life—touched by the nourishings waters of aliveness at every point of our circumference. Whether separate or together, we are always held and supported by each other.

I like the original meanings of Advent better: a time of waiting in the dark—with hope. Not so much about the baby Jesus or about the presents, but about the deepening darkness. The days grow shorter and we truly don’t know what is coming. Our job is to wait in the darkness—to wait right where we are.

The cultural myth and the truth of human experience is that only through this dark waiting will the light blossom and our new life begin.