The Gods of Christmas

On Saturday, I set out to finally get some of the last presents on my list. But the freeway exchange I needed to take was closed, so I found myself on a detour in a somewhat unfamiliar part of town. I’d almost made my way back to the freeway, but before I made it to the onramp, I noticed a pupuseria, a Salvadoran restaurant.  I couldn’t help myself from pulling into the parking lot. When I walked in Maná was blasting too loudly from the juke box and a soccer match played on the TV screens mounted around the restaurant. I smiled. Families sat at tables eating pupusas and sopa.  A few workers with paint-splattered clothes who were on their lunch break sat eating plates of beans, rice and beef. On the walls hung several El Salvador flags, a few maps of the country and traditional Salvadoran folk art showing women making pupusas at food stands and harvesting corn and local vegetables. I immediately felt at home and my spirit lifted. I walked up to the counter to order.  I could hear the women in the back slapping the masa back and forth between their hands making the pupusas and thick Salvadoran tortillas. I selfishly wanted to speak Spanish to the girl at the counter even though I knew she was from California. I asked first if I could speak Spanish with her because some Latinos get offended if you presumptuously speak Spanish to them. They don’t want you to think that they don’t know English. She said, “sure,” so I ordered. I ate as much as I could, then ordered some more pupusas ‘to go’ for my family. By the time I left, I‘d lost the desire to get back on the freeway and continue shopping. I just went home. Being in the pupuseria pulled me for a minute out of my consumer fetishism. I didn’t want to ruin the peaceful disposition that had come over me. I figured we’d just make do without whatever it was that I was going to go buy … or more likely, I’d just order it online.

I’m just having trouble pin-pointing purpose with Christmas this year.

While living out of the country for over a decade, I didn’t feel a lot of pressure to create Christmas traditions. Usually I’d pull together some decorations and partake in the local traditions to the extent that I understood them. Most years we’d travel back to the US where we’d make the best of Christmas trying to piece together old traditions with divorced parents and spread out family. Now that we live in the States, I feel pressure to establish traditions like the ones I see everybody doing. But they mostly feel contrived and excessive. Not that I’m any kind of minimalist, but Christmastime makes me envy those who are.

How are the none’s handling this time of year, I wonder? No, that’s not a typo. I mean, I do kind of wonder what nuns do at Christmas, cloistered away from the cares of the world.  But the none’s I’m referring to is that group of people that would check the box that says “none” when asked their religion on surveys. I almost envy them at Christmas time too.  They don’t have to pretend that any of our pagan traditions have something to do with the Savior. I wonder if just ignoring that Christ exists is better than making a mockery of Him. I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of two loyalties: worshiping the God of Materialism and The True God who gave life, and who gave us His son. So, who or what is lying in the manger of your nativity?  I hope I’m teaching my family to search for hope in the Savior instead of the packages under the tree.

Does God give us a pass on our Christmas excess if we are lighting the world at the same time?

I’ve had people ask me if I celebrate Christmas when they find out I’m Mormon, possibly trying to distinguish Mormons from Jehovah’s Witnesses in their minds. I often reply with a hearty, “Oh, yeah, we celebrate all holidays” with a tone that implies that we’re not as ‘strange’ as those religions that do not.  But there is a part of me that respects the J Dubs too. They’ve thrown off many worldly traditions and have the integrity to label them as such despite social consequences.

In theory, I love the idea of stripping down our Christmas traditions to only the most meaningful. But, in reality, there are many superfluous traditions I don’t want to give up. The preparations to create an inviting Christmas ambiance: glowing candles, a crackling fire, twinkling Christmas lights, the scent of cinnamon and pine. Rushing into a cozy house, greeted by carefully cooked food that comforts and sweet hot drinks that warm you as they go down. Familiar carols that make us happy because we’ve always sung them during a season in which we focus on giving and gathering. Christmas movies that we watch over and over. The sentimentality we indulge in at Christmas time is permitted in a way it’s not at any other time of the year.

Santa is a little bit tougher though. I see Santa as an impostor, a character who has warped the true meaning of Christmas, which is to rejoice in the birth of the One who gives life, saves and is the giver of all good gifts. Some say I have a special place reserved in hell because we’ve never included Santa as part of Christmas for our kids. We’d still fill their stockings and have their big present set out on Christmas morning, but never made any part of it about Santa. Of course, as the kids grew, they asked me about Santa, I simply explained that he represents the tradition of giving without receiving. And then I explained that while Santa isn’t real, people carry on this tradition because it’s exciting and fun to anticipate a stranger coming to give presents.  Then I’d segue into talking about the real giver of good gifts, The Savior.  I am not suggesting anyone should abandon the tradition of Santa. Not doing Santa was something Jeremy and I agreed on and felt worked best for our parenting approach.

I guess we each need to claim Christmas and celebrate it on our own terms.

My neighbor has done this beautifully. Unlike me, she loves Santa because she sees him as the embodiment of The Spirit of Christmas. For her, Santa spreads hope and teaches us how to give without expecting things in return.  Of course, she sees Santa this way because she has spent a lifetime giving to others, providing Christmas for hundreds over the years. She gives all year long and the myth of Santa provides a space for her to give even more than usual.

I’m not sure how to reconcile. Like all things in life, we see Christmas traditions through many viewpoints and we live out and love our perspective. But whether St. Nick is your demi-god of materialism, your sentimental teddy bear warming the nostalgic fire of childhood, or your guardian angel of generosity and happiness, I wish you all a Merry Christmas!