The Season of Palpable American Desperation is upon us: the annual effort to reassure ourselves that, through an orgy of acquisition and consumerist spending, we can somehow vindicate our deification of a first century Palestinian apocalypticist. The disconnect between history and our present reality could not be more stark; consequently, the pressures to conform are correspondingly intense.
It is sheer madness. Around age 20, I took the cure. It still took me another decade or so to wean myself of the feeling of guilt that my "failure to celebrate" entailed. And the pressure to join the lemmings continues to be applied in casual conversations wherever one goes. Over three decades have passed since I gave up Christmas, and I still experience the looks of fear and loathing that my public admission of that decision inspires.
Sorry, my fellow Americans. It's not my job to reassure you that the emptiness you feel inside each year at this time is only dyspepsia from too much holiday "cheer." On the contrary, that emptiness is real and well deserved. If you want to avoid it, do as I have done and learn to live without the desperation and the delusions. Go cold turkey: give it up--for Christ.
I have too much love and respect for the figure of Rabbi Jesus to deify him. Even if the historical Jesus considered himself "divine" in some sense, which I seriously doubt, I won't do him the injustice of indulging that fantasy.
I rather enjoy the way I pass December 25th: ordering Chinese and sitting in a movie theater surrounded by Jews, Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, and dogmatic atheists. But I enjoy even more my liberation from the scandal that is Christmas shopping.
On December 25th, I also light a candle in memory of that great Second Temple non-conformist and do as I believe that he would have done if faced with the madness of the Solstice crowds: turn my back on it all and withdraw into a secluded place...to pray.
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