Some time ago, I signed up to the polling site YouGov. Periodically, I get an email asking me to complete a survey, about anything from politics to working life to soft drinks ads. I did it avidly for a while, enchanted by the illusion that someone was interested in my opinion. The novelty soon wore off and the surveys began to gather dust at the bottom of my inbox. However, in the middle of a pre-Christmas sermon crisis, there is no limit to what may serve as a suitable material for procrastination. Hence: the YouGov Festive Season Survey.
One of the questions was, “will you go to church on Christmas day?” I think you can probably guess my answer to that one! Another asked what Christmas is about for most people today, the options being a) religion and Jesus, b) family and friends, or c) presents and food. With some hesitation, I picked c). On the next question, what do I think it should be about, I felt I had to pick a). Because seriously, if I don’t pick Jesus, who will?
[Food and presents – the reason for the season?]
But my answer didn’t feel entirely honest. Now, if the question had been “what is Christmas about for you?” then of course I would have answered Jesus – at least, if there was no option for “a haze of exhaustion, a diet of mince pies and ready meals, and vowing never again to work with children and oranges.” But really, I don’t think it ‘should’ be about Jesus. I think it is about Jesus, and of course I’d love everyone to realise that Jesus’ incarnation is the thing most worth celebrating in the universe. Since that isn’t imminently going to happen, however, I’d rather everyone carried on celebrating, whether or not they can sign up to the ‘reason for the season’.
Once upon a time, of course, I was precisely one of those people who celebrated Christmas without any religious connotations. I filled the house with decorations and never muddied the issue by venturing over the threshold of a church. When I try to think what I was celebrating, it’s quite simple: Christmas. I was celebrating the fact that this is a time of celebration. And why not? What’s not to celebrate about people enjoying themselves?
What I’ve started to realise this year, however, is how little we actually are enjoying ourselves. I don’t just mean the many people for whom this season is difficult, and who I always include in my prayers at each Advent and Christmas service – those who have been recently bereaved, the lonely, the depressed, those who are separated from their loved ones. For them, there is a particular kind of torture in universal forced jollity. No, I’m talking about the majority of people who are ostensibly looking forward to a happy family Christmas.
It seems that most of my Christmas conversations over the past month have been about stress and busyness, pervaded by a sense of obligation rather than celebration. These are mostly conversations in church, so this isn’t a criticism of the ‘secular’ Christmas. Perhaps on the day it’s worth it. But when I mention that my husband and I always have a quiet Christmas à deux (a tradition established when we married and set in stone ever since) the reaction is universally one of mild envy.
[A Christmas hat! See, you can’t say I haven’t entered into the festive spirit. Yes, it is black.]
So why do we do it to ourselves? Is it all some sick joke in which we’re each tricked into thinking that at least everyone else is happy? No, in spite of everything, Christmas makes us feel good. Even the wizened heart of this jaded priest, who has been celebrating premature Christmasses on demand for the past month, still bounces at the sight of glittery wrapping paper and shiny baubles. I’m excited because it’s Christmas! and everyone knows it and everyone is sharing in that expectation.
There’s been a lot of talk about 2016 being the worst year ever – followed, of course, by a lot of talk from more historically-informed people about how this is not in any way true. What’s struck me, though, is how people’s memories of bleak times often include positive stories of shared experience – the ‘blitz spirit’. What’s been difficult about this year is facing up to the reality that we are not ‘all in it together’. I currently have two Facebook accounts, one with all my old friends from Oxford and the other for my parish in Grimsby, and there have been times this year when it’s felt like commuting between two planets.
Christmas is still a shared experience. Even those who choose not to celebrate it can’t escape it. And there’s something valuable in that. Even if it’s fighting through the crowds, or laughing at the civic Christmas tree, or missing the last posting dates, or jostling for the last jar of mincemeat at M&S – at least we’re in it together.
Merry Christmas!
katymagdalene 