It’s a little after the fact, but I’m still feeling the holiday cheer. It’s a genuinely good feeling. I remember the days when I still considered myself a Catholic, and December carried with it a comforting aura of religious joy. Christmas meant so much back then because, you know, it actually meant something. But these days, my heart has secularized, and I always feel a little twinge of loss whenever I think about what this time of year used to mean to me. Lights still twinkle, the cookies still bake, and I still indulge in whistling carols to myself when I think nobody else is listening — all echoes from a happier time when faith was a virtue instead of a constant trial.
But at heart, I’ve always been a sappy optimist. I may have lost a savior in my budding years as an adult, but I’ve never allowed myself to lose my capacity for joy. There’s more to the holidays than pious rituals and that familiar commercial bustle. Love, universal compassion, and the promise of peace…those are the signs of the season. It’s humanity at its best.
A few days before Christmas, my buddy Siona wrote me a letter that I took very much to heart. To chide away my holiday glum, she knew exactly what to say. “I don’t consider myself religious at all,” she writes, “but I’m still perfectly capable of being struck dumb by gratitude and holy reverence. Catholicism doesn’t have a monopoly on spiritual fulfillment.” She’s right, you know. I’ve always known.
The world may be scarce of things to believe in, but on days like Christmas, it’s amazing just how much faith and joy you can experience if you’d only allow yourself to feel it. This season is a time of family, friends, loved ones, and empathy for total strangers. It’s life at its best. What a world, huh? Merry Christmas.