The tree has been taken down, the stockings put away, and the gingerbread houses dismantled (read: devoured). Alas, the holiday season is over, which for many of us can mean only one thing: back to school (or work).
I have always felt a little bit melancholy when the holiday season comes to an end, and I believe this is not uncommon. Admittedly, I have always wondered if those who know me are confused by my stark enthusiasm for Christmas, given the fact that I am an atheist. Yet, in the midst of yuletide greetings and church pageants, I have never felt so wonderfully spiritual—and it has nothing to do with religion.
As a child, and before I was truly aware of what religions were and how they so greatly varied, I loved all the typical things about Christmas. The gifts, certainly, were fun speculation, but what really excited me was the magic. The thought of flying reindeer or an immortal old man—things that seemed all but impossible—awakened a sense of something untouchable yet captivating. Of course, at the time I lacked the ability to describe my emotions in those words, but the feeling was enough to really make Christmas the most wonderful time of the year.
Growing older, our childhood innocence tends to dissolve into a harsh awareness of the world’s realities. Cruelty, hatred, and greed abound, and suddenly ‘magic’ isn’t sitting on Santa’s lap asking for a Tonka truck; it’s sitting among international leaders and begging for world peace. Both are to be easily desired, but there is actually a chance to find the Tonka truck under the tree come Christmas morning.
This understanding and unfortunate grasp of reality has certainly made its impact on me. By my own confession, I can be a pessimistic and, at times, cynical person. Based on personal beliefs and experiences, I have identified as an atheist for many years now. However, for all my life, I have been one of the most enthusiastic celebrators of Christmas (apologies to roommates past, and present, for the explosion of decorations mid-November). Here’s why: Christmas encompasses the magic of childhood that cannot be found at any other time of the year.
It isn’t only about Christianity, or historical events, or whether or not you believe in those events. The season is about love, gratitude, and generosity. December is a month of kettle drives, food hampers, and time with those who matter. It’s about friends, family, and offering kindness to all. These are things that should matter to everyone, whether you are a practising Buddhist or a devoted Jew. No one is obligated to celebrate anything, but everyone should be welcome to do so.
I sing carols because I love to sing (not well), not for their religious connotations. I give gifts not to represent a particular birth, but because I enjoy the opportunity to give tokens of appreciation for friendship and love. The time off at Christmas, for me, is a rare but treasured time to spend with those who can unfortunately be neglected by my hectic schedule the remaining 11 months of the year.
There is no similar beauty to that of a glowing Christmas tree or snow-riddled holly display. There is no similar satisfaction to eating a home-cooked meal surrounded by family. There is no similar spirit to the goodness that radiates during the holiday season.
And that is why, despite my religion, or lack thereof, I absolutely love Christmas. There is simply nothing so lovely.