gifts

It’s December 26. The eight days of Hanukkah have passed, it’s one day after Christmas and I wonder what it all means.  As we get older and the prospect of grandchildren fades ever more, I wonder what it means and why I work so hard to find special ways to mark the day. I understand that devoutly religious people find spiritual meaning in the holidays. For me, the supposed birth date of Jesus and the miracle of oil lasting longer than expected hold no more spiritual significance than any other days of the year.

I can find joy in some elements of what we, as a society, have made of this time of year – I like gathering with friends and family, I like sharing meals and exchanging gifts (within reason), and I like reaching out and giving to others who are less fortunate. I don’t like the pressure and the expectations created by our consumerist economy. We are trying to have fewer things and to shed as much as possible, and the same is true for many friends. My husband is also paralyzed by the stress of choosing gifts – afraid he might not pick the right thing, so this year I told him exactly what I wanted, where to buy it, and gave him a coupon for 25% off (yes, it was from Bed, Bath and Beyond.) Instead of me buying it for myself, I gave him the satisfaction of knowing he got just the right thing. That was a win-win for us. For children and those without the means to just buy what they need or want, Christmas can be that opportunity for getting something otherwise unobtainable as a gift, and that’s great. It just doesn’t apply to us. Our adult daughters got a hand-painted card and some cash and they all seemed happy.

What we can give is experiences, so we invested in building community. We had only one of our four adult daughters in town this year, so we invited friends and neighbors to stop by for an open house. Most were busy with travel plans or family in town, but 20 or so showed up. I baked like crazy. The cookie menu included chocolate stout, vegan pumpkin oatmeal, cinnamon stars, and good old chocolate chip. We had dairy cheeses and vegan cheeses; gluten-free and gluten-full crackers, chips, and bread; and a cranberry spice bundt cake, in addition to chocolates that guests contributed. Now I lament the extra pounds I’m carrying as I schlep to the gym and sign up for a new e-gym fitness program.

So what really matters? Do we need commercialized holidays to remind us to call loved ones and offer help to struggling neighbors? On Sunday (Christmas) morning, my husband and I took a walk. We went to a nearby shopping center (I think he was hoping the Starbucks was open) and the place was completely deserted except for one maintenance person emptying trash cans. So if Christmas did anything noble, it was to force people to stop buying stuff they don’t need and can’t afford, at least for one day. I got more appreciation from recipients of my little hand-painted cards than for the gifts they accompanied, and that’s great. I had more fun with the watercolors than the shopping.

In my ideal world, workers would get paid days off to use for dates and holidays that are meaningful to them, so Jews and Muslims and atheists would not be forced to plan their holidays at times of Christian significance. Postage stamps would celebrate the seasons and art and music, but without religious themes. Government office buildings would not host Christmas trees, offset by some perverse logic, by an electronic menorah. Every day would be special because we receive the gift of being alive. And every day would be a time for sharing, for generosity, and for kindness.