I admit it wholeheartedly; I, dear readers, am a Grinch. Christmas has turned into my least favorite holiday, and it's all I can stand to just get through it.
There's no magic in it anymore. What have we done? We have been brainwashed into the "corporate" view of Christmas: more presents, more decorations, more food, more wine. More shopping, more debt, more traffic, more crazy people pepper-spraying fellow shoppers at a Walmart to grab the last X-Box. More and more, bigger and better, keep up with the Jones' and max out your ego. For two months, insanity reigns, and Christmas carols bombard us in stores and television ads to get us into the mood to shop incessantly. Stress to arrange parties, plan huge meals, decorate, get everything done in a timely fashion rides high throughout late November and all of December. The pressure in on, and afterward I hear the majority of the people say, "Thank God it's over."
Thank God it's over? Then why are we doing this idiotic ritual? Was this what Christmas was supposed to be about? Did Jesus add a new commandment, "Thou shall shop 'til thy drop, in My name"?
Let me tell you when Christmas was last sacred and magical to me. I was a child, on a quiet night, alone in my living room while my parents were in the other room watching television. The lights were out, and the Christmas tree was directly in front of me, five feet away. I gazed at the lights blinking at me. The ornaments I knew well...each had a special meaning in my child's mind. One celebrated my first Christmas, and another was a converted card from my grandmother. Others had stories that I made up about them; the birds with the long feathered tails had names and histories, and the fabric elves played together when we all went to bed. The angel above looked down upon me and smiled. I could stare at that tree for hours and hours, not moving, completely captured by the beauty of color, lights, and sacred objects.
And then there was Santa Claus. A child has a hard time imagining God, but Santa was clearly attainable...you could write letters to him, and see him in the department stores. Santa WAS magic; he knew who you were, could see inside your soul, and on Christmas Eve night I left out the best cookies for him as my respectful offering. He had a long journey, and he must have been starving! And if not him, then surely the reindeer might like a bite, too.
Did I think he would bring me loot? Sure! I was a spoiled brat already brainwashed. But I thought the Tooth Fairy was amazingly magical, too, and she just left me a quarter. With proper training, I would never have known what I was missing...it would have been enough to have been visited personally by the Divine, and if left a small token, I would have joyously seen it as a sign of approval. I think that would have been more than enough for me.
I read an article on Yahoo a few weeks ago about how Justin Beiber (I'm not a fan, by the way) was told "the truth" by his mother when he was a child. This boy grew up without a Santa Claus. I felt sad for him; to have been selfishly excluded from The Mystery at so young an age just breaks my heart. Christmas was magic to me because of the beauty, the stillness, and the Divine Presence pulsating around my home on Christmas Eve. I had hoped that night that I would be honored with a glimpse of what was beyond ordinary reality. The possibilities took my breath away.
When Santa turned out to be nothing more than my exhausted parents shoving presents under the tree, when Dad turned out to be the guy eating my cookie offerings and dumping out the milk in the sink (he was lactose intolerant), my world became smaller. And when I worked retail for several years at the end of my teens and saw how people really treated each other during the Christmas shopping rush, it became smaller still. Where was the Divine? In Macy's we trust? Really?
If this makes me a Grinch, then I'm all for it. I look forward to my ghostly visitations from the Spirits of Past, Present and Future. Take me away and show me the goodness of greedy commercial insanity, where carols are no longer special because they are played incessantly everywhere for two months. Show me how social guilt, which causes everyone to max out their credit cards for the benefit of the banks and large corporate interests, is a wonderful thing. I want someone to explain it to me. Because, I gotta tell you, Christmas now just makes me feel dead inside. That little girl from years ago has had her heart broken.
Next year, perhaps I will take my Christmas back. Maybe I will decide to believe in Santa Claus again. Maybe I will write him a letter and beg him to come back to us, and ask him to give us the gift of Divine Love. Maybe I'll ask him to lead us out of bondage and to bring us back home, where presents no longer matter, but where the Sacred takes our breath away in happy squeals. That is my Christmas wish to all: may you find where it has been hiding, and may it bless you with abundant love. May you see the magic clearly with the eyes of a child and spread that light wherever you may go.
May the Divine, in whatever form it takes for you, bless you and hold you sacred in this coming New Year.
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