The Rants of a Part-Time Fatalist: Part III of III
Or A Fatalist Celebrates (the end of) Christmas
If you are one who enjoys a more conservative source for your news, you have probably heard of the so-called “War on Christmas!” This war, apparently, has made it illegal to say, “Merry Christmas” or go to Church, or have a nativity display, or listen to Christmas music, or have turkey, or put lights on your house, or smile, or otherwise show any joy whatsoever! If you ignore the fact that stores begin hawking their Christmas merch sometime around Columbus Day and there are endless movies and shows celebrating Christmas on every channel and streaming service, it may actually seem like there is a war! The other possibility is that there is no war and those fighting in it are just miserable little people who, for some reason, really hate the phrase “Happy Holidays” and make that out to be their Pearl Harbor or 9/11 moment… Never Forget.
The real irony of the season is that often those who are concerned over the loss of the “true meaning of Christmas” seem to have a somewhat myopic understanding of that meaning. Somewhere between the stories of the Christ’s birth, the Magi, and the Sermon on the Mount, these Christmas Warriors have found themselves ironically fighting on the wrong side.
A few weeks before Christmas I was driving to a wake in order to pay my respects to the family of someone who had died unexpectedly at pretty young age. Obviously the death of a loved one is hard, but when that person is young and it is around the holidays… uh, sorry… I mean Christmas, it can be made all the more difficult by the onslaught of Christmas cheer around every corner and every channel and every store and every restaurant and every coffee shop (it’s almost like ‘they’ want you to think there is no War on Christmas) during a time when you may not feel all that Christmas-y. With the funeral home just up ahead, I pulled up to a red light and waited for it to turn green. This part of the street had houses and businesses all light up and it really was quite beautiful. As I sat peacefully admiring the displays, thinking of the pain this family is going through in that building a few hundred yards away, the Pentatonix version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen came on my radio (if you have not heard this, do yourself a favor) and I had a brief moment of peace - like an understanding that though there is much pain in the world, we can still figure it all out, that kindness and charity really do have a place in this big mess, and that even if people do not believe literally in the biblical Christmas story, there is still a powerful message of peace and brotherhood within the story that all mankind can share. At that moment I looked to my right and saw a house with some of those blow-up lawn decorations, but this time it wasn’t Santa or the Grinch, it was a blow-up nativity scene. I had never seen a religious Christmas display with the blow-ups and it was really nice. Santa was, in fact, off to the side to show the secular side of Christmas, but it was clear that Jesus was the centerpiece of this celebration. I smiled as the music played and just before the light turned green, I noticed that right next to the inflatable manger there was a sign, like the lawn signs you see during election season, with lights strewn around to bring attention to it, so many lights that I was surprised it wasn’t the first thing I saw. Placed next to a display of the birth of the Lord, the prince of peace, and other symbols of peace on Earth and good will to all mankind, with the lyrics “Oh, tidings of comfort and joy…” playing softly in the background read a sign, “FUCK JOE BIDEN.”
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
And thus dear friends is how fatalism finds its way into the “most wonderful time of year.” If you recall, in simple terms fatalism is nothing more than an acknowledgement of truth - of the truth of inevitability. Think of it as a “is what it is” philosophy. Despite songs glorifying peace and unity, despite the thousands of hours of church sermons the owners of that sign had likely sat through, and despite watching A Christmas Carol and the Grinch, these people had seemingly missed the entire point of Christmas - at least Christmas the way I understand it. I drove away thinking, if Christmas is not strong enough to put these expressions of anger and hate aside, even for a few weeks, then we really are screwed. I felt really, really sad for a moment - sad for humanity, sad that I had to see that sign, sad some kid who is just learning to read will be sitting in the back seat of the car and ask his parents what “FUCK” means, sad that the people who put up that sign have so much anger in their hearts… just really fucking sad. But then, as it always does, philosophy came to rescue me from this existential crisis and I thought, “Fuck it. It is what it is.”
Thank you Fatalism.
There are a few ways fatalism finds its way into Christmas. One is really healthy, I think. It is the “fuck it” mentality. What other way should I address a Christmas display that places the baby Jesus next to a sign reading, “FUCK JOE BIDEN”? Should I have knocked on the door and expressed my displeasure, not at their opinions of a political figure because I really don’t care about that, but that they are taking the joy of the season and destroying any chance at togetherness, as fleeting as it may be, with that type of sign at this time of year? Somehow I don’t think they would have embraced my criticism or cared about my particular concerns. Putting up a sign like that is little more than a desperate attempt at attention, which I am now sort of giving them - they wanted the argument. “It is what it is” may have been the most Christian Christmas-y offering I could have possible made at that moment.
The other fatalist moments happen after all the gifts have been opened and the food and drink are gone. Family and friends have returned home and maybe the kids are in bed, exhausted from all the joy of the day. Yes friends, the post-Christmas let down descends upon us. Many of us have been going Christmas-Hard since Thanksgiving, with some diehards (not a Christmas movie) starting even earlier than that. Breakfast with Santa, Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, Cyber Monday, Amazon Everyday, decorating the house, the tree, the yard, the desk at work, watching all those movies, going to tree lightings, or lobster trap lightings (it’s a New England thing) - it really is a lot - oh and you still have to like, work and go through all the regular stuff of life. At that moment, sitting down, likely surrounded by toys and wrapping paper, there is often a feeling of, something, something that is not really sadness or disappointment, but something in between those things maybe. There is some relief that it’s over but also guilt that you are relieved it is over. Maybe you think of some of the things you did not get a chance to do and you hope you get one more year of magic with your kids who are just about at that age when they no longer truly believe.
This is fatalism.
You know each year, no matter how much joy you bring or how much effort you put into the season, you will still feel this post-Christmas yuck - and there is nothing you can do about it. There is nothing you can do to make the joy of the season last all year, because if it did last all year then it wouldn’t be special - so do you really want it to last all year? There is nothing you can do to make your kids believe in magic longer than they are going to believe in magic - and actually as your child gets older you worry they may believe in magic a bit too long and get made fun of by kids who no longer believe in magic.
All of this is inevitable. And as blah as this post-Christmas realty can feel, hopefully we all get to experience it again next year. I imagine the person whose wake I was going to would have loved to see that, “FUCK JOE BIDEN.”
Eh, it is what it is.