It suddenly struck me yesterday. In Sainsbury’s in Braehead, since you ask. The Thing that had been worrying me this Christmas, and probably many previous ones too.
I was in browsing the bog roll as Boy One was at the Saturday Sweep – the regular have-a-go curling session. It’s a new venture (curling not toilet tissue) and is borne of my concern that he needs a social life that isn’t just classmates and family. During study leave, for example, I’d come home and find my poor ears assaulted by a barrage of words because he hadn’t spoken to anyone all day. More weight to my theory that we all have words inside us that must be spent one way or another.
I know Aspies often don’t see the point of unnecessary social interaction, or mine doesn’t anyway, but they need it – whether they like it or not. And his avoidance of others concerns me with university looming before long. So I told him he needed to find something to do, or I’d find something for him that I considered suitable and we both know how that’s likely to turn out.
Eventually, he slouched back and told me he’d try curling and there was a session at Braehead most Saturdays which is why I was to be found, against all sensible advice, at one of the country’s biggest shopping centres the last Saturday before Christmas.
The Panther of News is working this Christmas Day, so there seems less reason than usual to cook overpriced poultry. The Boys and I are going to spend the festivities on the sofa in our PJs and we’re allowed to eat exactly what we want. I took orders and that’s why I was prowling the aisles with a trolley full of turkey dinosaurs, cake, pizza and pancakes. Classy. There may also have been some Prosecco, but I can’t be certain.
My fellow shoppers – stoically sporting seasonal knitwear – shared a look of determination and urgency as they flung “essential” cheese boards and bags of nuts into the trolleys. It’s a funny old time of year.
(Side note: why don’t supermarkets offer the option to have someone take over the tedious packing, repacking and loading in the car bit of the job? I’d pay for that service.)
On Thursday, we’d been at Boy Three’s Christmas show. This had prompted much discussion about why a non-denominational school should spend so much time and energy in Christianity and exactly how a secular nativity would work. I mooted the idea that maybe we shouldn’t bother with any of it then but no one seemed keen.
During the show, it became clear that the most important part of the shindig for many kids was the arrival of Santa. In fact, little baby Jesus hardly got a look in alongside the big fellow and his bag of pressies. Almost like he’s the one they worship – singing praises, offering sacrifices, conducting rituals and adhering to a scientifically improbable belief.
Is that where we’re at now? We worship SC rather than JC. It seems that way.
And that’s what struck me while I was wondering whether sesame seeds were catalogued with nuts or baking ingredients in this shop. So many of us are athiest/agnostic/apathetic, yet are quite cheerfully stuffing an organised religion-shaped hole with commercialised, sentimental festive clap-trap.
I wonder if deep-down we realise this and are too scared to stop the frenzied activity in case we have to face the truth: The grotto is empty – it’s a void – there’s nothing more meaningful than an excuse to spend money, eat too much and spend longer than usual on the sofa.
And if that’s true and we pause for a moment, we’ll find ourselves stranded at home with people we don’t have anything to say to, eating food we don’t want and being grateful for things we don’t need. Hmmm.
This baked beans aisle revelation didn’t have me sobbing, instead, I felt much, much lighter. Liberated if you will. I’m going to think of it as a winter festival that’s giving me a copper-bottomed excuse to do some of my favourite things, which may, or may not, include overeating and spending money.
Ho ho ho.
Sarah Rooftops says
I feel a bit odd celebrating a Christian festival as an atheist and I’ve been trying to figure out how I would explain that to Matilda, when she’s old enough to care – I think I’m going with the “this used to be a Christian country and old habits die hard” approach. When I was a kid, I didn’t realise I was supposed to believe any of the religious stories (Christmas-related or otherwise) and my parents couldn’t afford to buy us much so, for me, Christmas was all about believing in the magic – and what kid doesn’t want to believe in magic?
Ellen says
Thanks Sarah, maybe it should be all about midwinter magic.
KJ says
Can I just say that despite my normal anti
All things American stance – thanksgiving and its traditions are starting to look pretty damn good!
My daughter has absolutely no idea that there is anything religious behind Christmas and unless she opts for a new set of parents for her it is all about SC.
I think that overall she is quite lucky! A hedonistic festival with no strings attached and no boring church service to sit through!!
Ellen says
Thanks Kirsty, Thanksgiving does have a lot going for it – it’s about food and family and doesn’t appear to go on half as long as Christmas.
David says
Folk celebrated at Christmas time long before It was called Christmas. Christianity sort of took it over. Now the corporations have taken it over from the Christians. I think humans just need something to look forward to in the middle of a cold, dark, nasty winter.
Ellen says
You’re right David. The idea of a winter festival to bring some joy to the bleak month makes perfect sense, whether it’s Pagan or something else. Time for something old perhaps.