Season's greetings December 2010 CE
The holiday season. The 'silly season'.
Winter solstice in dark, cold Europe. Roman Saturnalia and pagan
Yuletide. Consumer frenzy. Tinsel. In spite of the assault on the
senses, an almost audible whisper seductively urges: 'Buy. Spend.
Eat. Drink. Kill the pig - at least break the piggy bank. Treat yourself. Treat your family. After all, it's
Christmas.'
*
As I complete my non-holiday inspired
purchase, a young retail assistant wishes me 'a great afternoon'. For
a fleeting and refreshing moment, I feel my face relax, the 'bah
humbug, do-not-mention-Christmas-to-me' -face crack. Right then, I
am not part of the almost panic-driven crowd. I merely happen to
purchase something, in the midst of the scurrying and hustle and
bustle of the mass of sheeple acting out some ancient rite.
*
The recycling bin is already full. The
children's rooms have not had a look-in, with a specific view to
'search and destroy'. 'Decide and dispose'. How many soft, fluffy
toys does a child need? I had one. (I still have one. The same one.)
-The new loot, this year's quota of
soon-to-be-left-in-the-yard-overnight-in-the-rain-stuff, will just
have to find a space somewhere amongst all the old stuff.
*
So what's a former Christian to do on
Christmas day, having declared his intention to boycott Christmas and
associated festivities and cultural and commercial activities? Where
does one seek peace and quiet, on a day that formerly was dedicated
to family time, gifts, food, more food and idle chit-chat?
If the weather was a lot less rainy, an
extended hike in a nearby national park would be an option.
Then again, since the 25th
falls on a Saturday, I might spend the morning at the local synagogue
and the afternoon discussing the Torah.
I like to think that that's what the
(alleged) birthday boy would have done.
