“Silent Night” is a Lie
The age-old Christmas carol, “Silent Night,” has been lying to us for years.
It is not a silent night, as the song suggests.
If that were true, then it would not be Christmas.
If you were to say it is a quiet night, then you’d be on a better track. But to say that it is silent would be to rob one of the most wonderful holidays of a good part of its essence. After all, Christmas is certainly about reflection and peace and calm. Yet, it is also about joy and jubilation and reveling in these things with the closest of family and friends.
For the first time in my moderately young life, I am spending Christmas alone. I am doing so out of a combination of choice and necessity, so I certainly don’t expect to be felt bad for. Sure, fire off a few extra presents my way to bolster my spirits if you must. Fine, give me license to have a few extra pieces of pie and a few extra slugs off the Christmasy bottle of gin in Grandma’s liquor cabinet that’s always at least 3/4s full. But, please don’t feel bad for me.
The truth is that I am enjoying my first Christmas alone. And, no, Scrooge is not holding Ralphie’s Red Ryder Model Air Rifle to my temple, threatening to shoot my eye out, to get me to say this.
I will openly and concertedly say that I’ve never taken Christmas for granted. It has always been my favorite holiday and I have always seen it as the greatest occasion
(or excuse) to express my thanks and love to everyone, whether it be through gifts (like the Barbie Dream Boat I saved up to give my sister when she was little) or sentiments (out-of-the-ordinary phone calls to relatives) or simple gestures (overtipping your cab driver and then screaming MERRY CHRISTMAS! at him before he has a chance to correct you into saying “happy holidays”). Christmas, for me, has always been sacred and will continue to be so…and I will celebrate it to the fullest and never be told to quell my good cheer, no matter how politically incorrect it may be for me to celebrate Lord Baby Jesus’ birth in the face of a fellow man straight kickin’ it Kwanzaa-style.
Despite all of this, however, I have never had the chance or the good fortune to be totally alone on Christmas. I say good fortune because being alone on a holiday that is meant to be shared engenders a profound sense of the importance of other people, whether you like it or not.
Often, I’m frustrated by the general populus. As Nietzsche says, “Hell is other people.” Other people are annoying. They sneeze on you on the bus, they cut in front of you in shopping lines, they give you the finger when you changes lanes in front of them on the highway, and they are all, at one point or another, unbearably rude to one another. We, as a whole, don’t deserve the freedom and the grace we’ve been blessed with.
But on Christmas, all this changes. Suddenly, a throat-wrenching, neck-soaking cough on the bus becomes a holiday frog in the throat. A middle finger waving at you in spite from the car behind you becomes a one-digited log of yuletide spirit pointing Santa Claus in your direction. Even the homeless guy that jumps out at you from a dark alley, screaming “SPARE SOME CHANGE!” is morphed into a cheery (albeit quite inebriated) and slightly overzealous Chris Cringle.
For me, Christmas makes all that is unbearable in the world just a little rosier in color. And I didn’t realize the full extent of this power until I experienced it all by myself this year.
When you’re in the midst of family and friends, the joy is tangible. It is felt in every laugh and hug and smile and piece of ribbon encircling your gifts. Of course, this is also because you’re doped up on so much rum-infused egg nog that just about anything seems cheerful and glorious. I mean, Santa could be crash-landing on your roof in a red El Camino with 12 rabid, stray dogs at the helm of his Mexican gas-guzzling, truck/car combination sleigh, and you’d still probably crap jelly beans at the excitement of it. But, this is beside the point.
The point is that when you’re with your family and friends, the joy is easy to see. But, when you’re alone on Christmas, the power of the holiday is really overwhelming. Your solitude shuts down all the holiday din that usually distracts you, and you’re left to see what a magnificent and transforming power Christmas really has. It compels strangers to smile at each other. It urges cabbies to let pedestrians and other drivers actually have the right of way at stop signs, for once. It makes it okay to whistle carols loudly right into someone else’s ear, especially if they’re being crabby, so that their head will ring for the rest of the night with your terribly joyous rendition of Jingle Bells.
Christmas takes the weirdness out of being nice and joyful, a reservation and a practice that we all harbor too much on a daily basis. In a way, Christmas is a free pass to display your happiness in any absurdly overdecorated, mind-numbingly bright way you wish. It encourages painfully ugly sweaters to be drawn from the mothballs and paraded around for everyone to see, eye-humping people into holiday submission. It commands you to eat extra calories. It requires that at least four times a day, starting on December 1st and lasting the rest of the month, some small part of you is secretly wishing it will snow, no matter where you are and no matter how sensitive your grandfather’s arthritic joints are to cold weather.
Yup. Christmas is the excuse we all need to lighten up a little bit and have some fun with life. It is, also, a very sacred holiday in the Christian faith, a fact that shouldn’t be completely ignored for its importance. But, for all those who don’t ascribe to Christianity and to Christmas in its Biblical importance, and even for those who do, Christmas is one of the greatest opportunities to ignore your inhibitions and laugh and smile and rejoice just for the heck of it.
So, please take time this year to thank whoever it is you pray to for the great blessing of life that we all enjoy. And, while you’re at it, thank Him/Her/It for Christmas, too. I know, I know…you’re not Christian. I get it. You don’t have to be.
Just thank Allah or Buddha or Elvis or whoever for coming up with a time of year when we’re actually allowed to love and love openly. Thank them for Christmas trees that look so beautiful lit up in the windows. Thank them for the little pyramids that spin in circles when you light candles on them, only to either crap out two minutes later or catch on fire and threaten the security of your entire house. Thank them for the real candy canes that are minty and delicious, and also thank them for the faux candy canes that taste like nutra-sweet and low quality taffy, with no minty sensibility to them whatsoever. Thank them for the hideousness that is reindeer-horned headbands, and over-priced Starbucks peppermint lattes (that I too willingly give up 5 bucks for “because it’s Christmas!”), and for the ability to raise credit limits on credit cards at a moment’s notice.
Because, friends, the truth REALLY is that Christmas only comes once a year and that isn’t nearly often enough. So, while it’s here, let’s take every opportunity we can to make it magical. Spend that extra fifty bucks on little Billy’s video game. Grit your teeth and bear it when Great Aunt Pattie feels compelled to give you a kiss on the lips and smear her 79 year old, poinsettia-colored lipstick all over your face.
And most of all? Don’t be afraid to say Merry Christmas! In fact, say it loudly. Shout it, if you want. Just don’t let the night pass in silence because you’re too scared of the political and social ramifications of wishing someone well in the name of a religion-specific holiday.
Oh, and one more thing…don’t go near Uncle Bill. He’s wearing the undies with the mistletoe hung right above the crotch and forcing people to comply with tradition.
Bring on the nog!
