The following is a condensed version of "Make Spirits Bright" by Rachel Lu, published at Law & Liberty.
Christmas has long been the favorite time of year for fighting about public religion. We bicker about whether to say “Merry Christmas” or “happy holidays,” about “holiday trees,” public creches, and the singing of sacred carols in schools. Some of these fights are truly exasperating. Still, the Christmas wars do illustrate some real complexities in American culture, which are especially interesting in a time when “Christian nationalism” is a subject of burning controversy.
People have a wide range of views on public Christmas, and it’s hard to predict where they will stand just based on their religion and politics. Some unbelievers are eager to enshrine Christmas as a kind of secular celebration of love and cheerfulness. Many believers resist this, worrying that the distinctively Christian character of their great feast might get lost in the tinsel and treacly angel stories. Each December, traditionalists find themselves debating the relative merits of protecting and promoting Christmas, while progressives struggle to decide whether they’d prefer to co-opt Christmas or cancel it.
All of this is especially difficult in America, because we do have our own Christmas culture, but as a rule it is fairly theology-lite. There are certainly exceptions, such as A Charlie Brown Christmas, or the haunting ‘Twas in the Moon of Wintertime, a carol originally written in the Huron tongue by a French Jesuit missionary. Most of our familiar sacred carols, though, come from England, France, or Germany. The secular ones are overwhelmingly ours. Never mind that there’s no room at the inn! We Americans prefer to spend our holidays rockin’ around the Christmas tree.
For the religiously devout, this has long been as source of discomfort. Indeed, there is a long American tradition of shunning public Christmas; the Puritans loathed it, and in colonial Massachusetts people could be fined for having a cup of cheer. Christmas was not officially declared a Federal holiday in this nation until 1870, and though modern traditionalists have mostly reconciled themselves to Christmas festivities of some sort, it is still quite common for them to shy away from the public festival in its American form. Every Christmas, I hear much lamentation from religiously observant friends about the “commercialism” of The Season. The secular Santa is of course viewed by this sort of person as a vulgar commercial gimmick, put forward mainly to distract us from the true Reason for the Season.
I love public Christmas and will gladly have a cup of cheer with my neighbors, but I still have real sympathies with the cranky traditionalist. He isn’t necessarily joyless. He just wants to celebrate the birth of his Lord around the manger, not sipping cocktails with the Rat Pack, or crooning about hula hoops in the company of badly-animated rodents. To him, American Christmas feels schlocky, shallow, and sentimental. He still celebrates Christmas with his family and church, but Mariah Carey and Will Farrell are not invited, and his children will assuredly never sit on Santa’s knee.
Even in my sympathy, I advise Christmas purists to curb those rebellious impulses. They should recognize that the original Christmas story never truly got lost in Santa’s artificial beard. Most secular Christmas stories are suffused with Christian themes; the Jesus-shaped hole is so enormous that it is hard sometimes to understand how anyone fails to see it. Perhaps the sentimentality functions as a kind of smoke screen, defusing people’s critical instincts.
Our beloved, ostensibly-secular Christmas classics mostly revolve around the same basic story: a wretched soul, hollowed out by vice and worldly care, must be redeemed by means of an unmerited, transcendent remedy, which restores his ability to love and grow in virtue. Whether the protagonist is the Grinch, Ebenezer Scrooge, Jack Skellington, or George Bailey, these stories all affirm that “the world” is not enough, and that fallen humans require help from “outside” to fulfill even their natural potentialities. Does anyone know of a religion that teaches things like that? Christmas stories and songs are also packed with praise for people who believe in fantastic things that cannot be seen, nor proven. This is the message of almost all Santa-based stories, from The Polar Express to Miracle on 34th Street, which is why I often urge traditionalists to moderate their distaste for the American Santa. For average Americans, he is essentially faith personified, and yet they like him. This cup of eggnog is more than half full.
The emptiness of modern life can be soul-destroying. At Christmas, many people who resent organized religion are prepared to acknowledge their hunger for spiritual nourishment. Understanding that, Christians should welcome public Christmas, even at the risk of cheapening it a little. If Christ was willing to break bread with prostitutes and tax collectors, he’s probably willing to share a tacky yard display with Rudolph.
In a classic Christmas film, the demoralized protagonist generally needs an intervention of some sort to recover his better self. In the end though, he is not remade so much as reminded of things he already knows, and of the tremendous worth of blessings he has already received. So it might be for our own society, following the twinkling lights of ancient wisdom along a darkened path. So, have yourselves a merry little Christmas now.
Rachel Lu is an Associate Editor at Law & Liberty and a Contributing Writer at America Magazine. After studying moral philosophy at Cornell, she taught for several years before retiring to focus on the moral formation of her own five sons. She writes on politics, culture, religion, and parenting.