Dear Christmas - We Need To Talk

Last Tuesday, my girlfriend and I drove out to my dad’s house in New Jersey to celebrate Christmas Eve with my family. The plan was to go there, enjoy a wonderful dinner, sleep over, and spend Christmas all together. When we arrived, we were greeted with a fabulous array of hors d'oeuvres as well as smiling faces and open arms. What a welcome. We took off our jackets and started chowing down. There’s something about a long drive that always leaves me ferociously hungry when I arrive at my destination, and knowing a feast awaited me certainly didn’t help. As we sampled each delicacy, we shared stories, recommended movies, listened to music, and relaxed. My cousins and I played a few games of pool while our parents were preparing dinner together.

When they called us to the table, I felt as though I were floating on happiness. There before me was a table full of steak, turkey, Swedish meatballs, chicken teriyaki, green beans, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and corn bread.  It was among the most delicious Christmas meals I have ever enjoyed.

After dinner, my dad called us into the living room to watch a slideshow he had put together. What a beautiful surprise. Everyone loved watching the slideshow. It’s always fun to look back on fond moments with family, reminisce about old memories, and realize how we’ve all changed and stayed the same throughout the years. After the slideshow, the night winded down into a heavenly tres leches cake that my dad prepared for dessert. There were other desserts too, but the tres leches cake captured my heart. It was my first time trying it and if you never have, I highly recommend it. As I finished up my cake, I started saying goodbye to those who weren’t staying the night. When they left, we just hung out, watched Zoolander, and went to sleep.

On Christmas morning, we all opened presents together, as is the tradition. My dad woke up to a few presents he didn’t expect under the tree. Turns out feeding the dogs from the scraps all night had its consequences. We cleaned up poop on more than one occasion. We joked that we were having such a good time despite it being such a “crappy” Christmas. After opening presents, we watched Reservoir Dogs, and then prepared for the drive home. My dad invited us for dinner, but we were tired and content with going home and ordering Chinese food. To be honest, it was one of the best Christmases I have had in years.

But Christmas hasn’t always been a happy time for me. And even still, I have some uncomfortable feelings when I think about the holiday. Part of me feels guilt for how fortunate I am compared to others. I feel as though I am celebrating my wealth while there are children starving in the world. And I wonder if it is right to celebrate Christmas if children are starving in America, or Africa, or anywhere else. Part of me feels as though Christmas has become more of a Christmas Industrial Complex than a family holiday. And part of me, is still holding on to the moment I realized that Santa wasn’t real. Although I don’t think this is the same for everyone, finding out Santa Claus didn’t exist was actually a very confusing time of my life. For years, I struggled with the contradictions. Today, I am still coming to terms with some of it. If you’ve never felt this way, then maybe that’s best. But if you have, then maybe you can relate to this:

When I found out that Santa Claus doesn’t exist I didn’t think, “Oh well.” I thought, “What else?”

What else have I been lied to about?

What else isn’t real?

I believed in Santa.

I believed in a man that would reward me for my noble heart.

A man I had never seen but could always see me.

A man that silently judged me from the distance.

He’s not real?

Up until that point, I had believed not only in him, but in everything I had ever been told. 

I believed all people were equal. I believed happiness was more important than money.  I believed anyone could be anything they wanted to be.

And I also believed in God.

I believed in a man that would reward me for my noble heart.

A man I had never seen but could always see me.

A man that silently judged me from the distance.

You get it?

Why is a magical man with a white beard who spends his time with angels any less ridiculous than a magical man with a white beard who spends his time with elves?

Did you not realize? Did you expect me not to make the connection?

As you sat there and destroyed my trust in you, my concept of the world, and my innocence, you thought, “It’s okay. This is what all Christians do for their children. It’s tradition.”

As you sat there and destroyed my trust in you, my concept of the world, and my innocence, I thought, “No one is rewarding me for my good deeds. No one is watching but you and you’re obviously not paying attention. Nothing matters but what I get caught for. If there’s no Santa then there’s no God and there’s no reason to be good in this world. There’s no reason not to steal and there’s no reason to tell the truth.

The Truth?

What even is that anymore? How am I supposed to believe that anything I haven’t seen is anything but a story? Santa doesn’t exist? God doesn’t exist? What about George Washington? Or the great grandparents that died before I was born? Is there any Truth at all?

I can see my hand in front of my face. Is that the Truth? Or is it merely a dream?”

I was alone.

You didn’t realize, but after that day I was alone for a long time.

I trusted you more than I had trusted anyone else in the world. If I could no longer trust in you, then I could no longer trust in anyone.

It was a bitter darkness.

I was a shattered person in an empty space.

That was over 10 years ago. In those years, I slowly pieced myself back together. Wiping my mind of all that I had ever been taught, I carefully assembled my own conception of Truth.

My conclusion? Truth can be suspected but it can never be known. Truth is the label we reserve for our best guesses.

Though I may see my hand in front of my face, I can never be certain I am not in a dream. Nor can I be certain we are not all characters in another’s dream. Or a computer simulation. Truth is my best guess that this world I live in is “Real.” That since I can see my hand, I know it is there. That since I can hear my thoughts, I know I am thinking them.

But as I admit, these are only my best guesses.

As you destroyed my reality when you told me that Santa was an illusion, we may yet see this reality destroyed when Santa comes to tell us that we are an illusion. Or perhaps not Santa, but more likely some other Alien or God.  Yet no matter what we are told, we will never know the truth.

No matter how much we think we know it is all still a guess.

If nothing else, Santa was my Morpheus. My red pill.

Am I better off this way? Am I worse? Was it a blessing to believe in Santa Claus? Was it a curse?

Was it Destiny?

Was it Fate?

All I can say with Absolute Certainty is, “I don’t know.”

This week let’s meditate on Christmas- The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year and yet it also sometimes makes me feel the worst. There is both beauty and shame within Christmas. There is the warmth and enjoyment of family and togetherness. There is generosity, charity, and giving. But there is also Black Friday, capitalism and mass consumerism. There is inequality and suffering. There are the children that make toys in sweatshop factories and there are the children who receive them in their comfortable little homes. There is lying to children on a mass scale that would almost border on sociopathy if we didn’t all agree to call it Christmas and celebrate it together. If anyone else tried to tell your kids that an old man was constantly watching them, you’d call the cops. So to me Christmas is somewhat of a double-edged sword. I’m not declaring a War on Christmas. I think the whole idea of declaring War on concepts is silly. But I also think it’s silly to pretend that Christmas is all light, beauty, fun, and joy, because it just plain isn’t.