OK, so maybe I won't win any friends with a title like that one, but it's how I feel this time of year.
Struggling with the whole to Christmas or not to Christmas, that is the question quandary has been my modus operandi for years, ever since becoming a parent, really. At this time of year, I see my kids' friends celebrate with their families, hear them talk about their trees and lights and wish lists, and I think, am I short-changing my kids because we don't believe in a god? For a few years, we did the tree, lights, stockings and presents thing. The kids liked it, but no one was super excited about it. It was all about the loot. They wanted stuff, and I was fine with that, but I just didn't really see the need for all the pomp & circumstance of trimming and decking. The Martha Stewart K-Mart tree, along with all the decorations and lights, are tucked safely in the attic where they've spent every day since my youngest was about four, maybe five. I think, perhaps, preschool was the last Christmas we had here.
There are some sentimental emotions tied up in those items. I have some nice decorations I got from my family over the years, as well as some cute ornaments I bought when the boys were wee ones - Baby's First Christmas, Eeyore and Pooh, etc. - but all that stuff, that Christmas-y stuff, doesn't really mean much. I can look at pictures of the boys and remember their first Christmases, not that the day ever meant anything. I'd rather look at their birthday pictures or Halloween photos when they were dressed up as their favorite characters or ghouls. But two plastic tubs of red and green decorations are really quite meaningless.
I think the parts of Christmas that bother me the most are what those things represent. The commercialism, the consumerism, the conspicuous flaunting of money and wealth that Americans pretend to have, only to buy their way further into debt between November and December. It's always startling to me the craziness on the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday is the WORST day of the year! Who thought up the concept of selling off all their shit the day after Thanksgiving, a day of familial gluttony, at slashed prices for the holiday season? Whose idea was it to begin this trend of cutthroat consumerism on a day we should all be out jogging or sleeping off our "sinful" behavior of the day before?
My sister, who is the retail queen - not because of her shopping prowess, although that's arguable, but because she has this amazing gift of salesmanship that I cannot begin to understand - posted a comment to a status update where I bash retail establishments for their un-Christian-like behavior. She was a little offended that I disliked retail so much as to disparage their commercialism during December. In my defense, it was a Kia commercial that said every time a Kia is sold, "an angel gets its wings." Gross, yes? In her defense, though, she's right. America is based on consumerism. She wouldn't have a job if December sales weren't stellar. That's really sad to me, though. Really, really sad. The basis of this economy hinges on the hope that Americans will buy more shit than they need, buy shit they don't need, and buy shit others don't need in the hopes that the shit will fulfill someone's Christmas wish! WTF???
I go back, then, to the origins of my December dismay. If Christmas is meaningless to me because I don't believe in the premise that Jesus is the savior, that God's word is the only word, blah, blah, blah, then why the flying figs do I feel guilty that my kids don't get to participate in the pagan pageantry that is the Christmas tree and all its trimmings?
I guess it boils down to the fact that we, as parents, alienate them from their friends' yuletide celebrations and keep them from what seems to be the birthright of most American school children, especially here in the good ole God-fearing Midwest.
A few years ago my boys were playing with the neighbors during winter break. I love our neighbors, but what one of their kids said to mine really pissed me off. I believe their son was about 9 or 10 at the time, and Christmas was brought up among the three boys. They were probably comparing notes about video games or something, who knows? When my kids said we don't believe in God, the little dear said, "If you don't believe, you don't receive." Now, there's a poetic thing to say. My eldest, who actually understood the concept, just shrugged & came home.
Yesterday, the youngest's friend popped over for a visit. Upon looking around the living room, he asked, "Where is your tree?"
My youngest simply replied, "We don't celebrate Christmas."
"Why not?"
He knows we don't believe in god. He chose, however, not to get into the whole religion discussion, so he chose a simpler version. "We don't believe in Santa Claus."
The friend replied, "Well, I don't either, but we still have a tree!"
I had to laugh, but inside I do feel bad. My kids are different from most of their friends. They have never been to church - well, not really anyway - nor been baptized. They don't celebrate Christmas or Easter. They get "weirded out" when we go to my family's homes or reunions and people pray before meals. (Aiden asked me last year after a Thanksgiving meal with my dad's family, "What the heck was that, Mom?") The boys don't have much to go on when it comes to comparative religions, while my husband and I can discuss the highlights of Lutheranism, Catholicism and Methodism. We have a basis for our contempt, but they do not. They simply do what we do, just like my husband and I did what our parents did when we were kids. We have had discussions with them, however, about religion, faith and belief. My oldest, at age 14, believes in a sort of reincarnation. I'm cool with that. At 14, I, too, had hopes that one day I might come back as a dog or a kitten - anything but a lowly human! But at 14, I also knew I didn't believe in a god of any kind.
Being different, for me, has never been a problem. I sort of relish the idea of being an outsider sometimes. The irony is often quite sweet. I'm an atheist in the Bible Belt, a liberal in a notoriously red state. My friends understand me... or tolerate me, perhaps. My friend M. thinks I'm "too political," and I probably am. Especially when I question others' beliefs. Maybe I'm too convinced of my own righteousness to understand when others aren't as convinced as I.
Case in point: a few weeks ago that same friend was talking about her daughter's CCD classes (for non-Catholics, these are the torturous classes kids have to take before their First Holy Communion or their "conversion" into the Catholic faith). Her daughter is a wonderful little second grader,a sprightly, precocious little waif whom I adore. Anyway, E. and her mom were sitting at CCD listening to the teacher (a nun? I don't know) talking about who shares God's love. The "discussion" went something like this (and if I'm getting this wrong, I hope M. will correct me):
Teacher: Who does God love?
Student 1: Everybody?
Teacher: Not everybody.
Student 2: Christians?
T: Not all Christians.
S3: Catholics?
T: Not all Catholics.
S4: Catholics who confess their sins?
... and so on.
M. commented on just how "un-Christian" this whole thing was, and how she hated that her beautiful (that's my adjective) daughter had to sit through that.
So... not being able to keep my devil's advocate mouth shut (I do love that expression, "devil's advocate"!), I asked, (sic) "Why do you take her then? If it's so awful, why go?"
I was hoping not to offend, but to merely question the intentions of someone who I know is against MOST of what the Catholic faith teaches, especially about God's love and birth control. She didn't seem too offended, but I knew I was possibly hitting a little below the belt. For that, I feel bad, but I desperately want to know why people continue to follow a faith, or pretend to, when they don't agree with the tenets of that faith.
Her answer was something I didn't expect. We went back and forth a bit before she gave it, but it basically came down to taking her daughter through this traditional Catholic ritual for the loot she'd (her daughter) get from family.
And so we come full-circle. It's all about the mo-ney, mo-ney, mo-ney.
But, here's the thing. I don't disparage her for that at all. On the contrary, I feel like this is what it all comes down to. Her daughter will get some nice bling, a little cash-in-hand, and maybe some to put back for college later. She'll get the spoils of those that expect her to grow up to be a good little Catholic school girl (oh, don't get me started on that!). She'll be a member of one of the most self-righteous institutions in history, but she really doesn't have to believe in it. Her parents certainly don't follow the church's teachings (sorry if I'm outing you, M. & R.). They're good people, honest and hard-working, generous and sweet. They aren't self-righteous or indignant about their beliefs. They take the whole religion thing in stride. (They have to; they're friends of mine!) So do I agree with what they're doing with their daughter? Eh. Maybe, maybe not. Not my place to do so. I just remember my own foray into the world of Catholicism and wonder if maybe they'd be better off letting her try on some other faiths after she's got her loot.
We don't have to go all the way back to my own Catechism, but if we did, it wouldn't be pleasant. I questioned the nun a little too forthrightly. At age 8, I didn't understand the Bible and the way it was being translated. I wondered why sane people believed that some dude died & came back to life three days later, and how the hell could they explain the making of man from dirt and woman from dirt's rib! These people knew there was no Santa Claus and no tooth fairy, right? They didn't think the Easter bunny was real, did they? So how on earth did they think I was going to believe some cockamamie story about the son of God, who I couldn't see, mind you, saving the world - or at least the good Catholics - from a million years of fire and brimstone? That seemed a little too far-fetched for me, and I think I might have said so, if not in so many words.
And the white dress? White patent leather shoes with frilly socks? A flippin' veil???? Are you kidding me? I felt more like the bride of Frankenstein than a miniature bride of God. <shudder>
OK, so childhood trauma notwithstanding, I think I have a tough time in December for the hypocrisy (and, people, it's blatant) of the holidays. The commercialism, the consumerism, the damage to the environment from all the effin' lights... it's too much for me. I know I sound like Scrooge, but the spirit of the holiday season is going to have to work a little harder if it wants this girl to feel festive. And that, my friends, would be a friggin' miracle.
