Scrooge on the Prowl
The anti-Christmas movement.

December 19, 2001 8:15 a.m.

 

urfing the channels this weekend, I chanced upon the film of A Christmas Carol. It was the recent version with Patrick Stewart as Scrooge, and though it cannot quite match the classic 1949 Alastair Sim portrayal (which is as perfect a film as Charles Dickens' book is a novel), the story soon had me in its benevolent power. The tale of the grudging, mean-spirited, sour, old miser who, much against his will, is given the chance to repent by the Spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, and who discovers the deep joy of giving pleasure to others, never fails to enchant — and also, in a thoroughly wholesome way, to disturb.

For, all year round we are torn between the Spirit of Christmas — generosity, love, friendship, compassion — and the Spirit of Scrooge — selfishness, egoism, narrowness, and cold calculation. There is a never-ending competition between them for dominance over the souls of even the best of us. And Scrooge wins more often than he should.

At Christmas, however, the deck has traditionally been stacked against the Spirit of Scrooge. Charles Dickens, aided by a whole host of allies from the Three Wise Men to Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, overwhelms us with evidence that we will be happier ourselves if we strive to bring tidings of comfort and joy to others. And if the joyful Christmases I remember from my childhood onwards are any guide, this lesson is at least temporarily learned. Christmas is indeed a kinder, gentler season.

Which makes it all the more alarming that the Spirit of Scrooge is abroad in the land seeking a hostile takeover of the Christmas message. Here is a shortened list of recent outbreaks of the anti-Christmas Spirit compiled by the Washington Times:

The county school board in Covington, Ga., deleted the word Christmas from the school calendar after the American Civil Liberties Union threatened legal action.

In Kensington, Md., the council banned Santa Claus from its annual tree-lighting ceremony when two families complained that his presence would make them uncomfortable.

Two middle-school students in Rochester, Minn., were disciplined for wearing red and green scarves in a Christmas skit, and for ending the skit by saying "We hope you all have a Merry Christmas."

Two ninth-graders in Plymouth, Mass., were told they could not create Christmas cards that say "Merry Christmas" or depict a nativity scene.

Many other examples could be cited. Indeed, one website, vdare.com, is running a competition for the most outrageous example of what it calls "the War against Christmas." Latest dispatch from the front? Ramsey county, Minn., has evicted the red poinsettias (symbolizing Christmas), from the courthouse, replacing it first with ribbons (representing "flags from around the world") and then, after protests, with white poinsettias (representing nothing in particular.)

These examples are the sharp end of a general social trend. They are drawn from places, such as schools and town councils, where officials have the power to ban expressions of the Christmas spirit. Elsewhere they rely on our conforming voluntarily to the recent etiquette of either never mentioning Christmas or replacing it with some anodyne substitute. Pittsburgh some years ago replaced Christmas with "the Sparkle season." British towns have adopted "Winterval." And "Happy Holidays" or "Season's Greetings" has replaced "Merry Christmas" on the cards of every ambitious politician.

When objection is made to these advances by Scrooge — and people are usually too embarrassed to raise the matter openly — the usual reply is that Christmas is a religious festival that leaves some people feeling excluded: notably Jews and Muslims. To celebrate it too loudly might be to cause some children psychological damage.

To that last wrinkle, the distinguished Jewish theologian, Jacob Neusner, made a very adequate reply some years ago: namely, that his sister seemed to have escaped any serious psychological scar despite playing the Virgin Mary in the school pageant for several years running. The awkward fact must be faced that children may be more emotionally robust than bureaucrats. But the larger argument fails too.

The sensible response of religious minorities to the sight of Christians celebrating the birth of Our Lord is surely to mark their own religious festivals with equal enthusiasm. And, to a considerable extent, that is now happening: Hannukah, Eid (the feast at the end of Ramadan), and even the Afro-American nationalist holiday invented in 1966, Kwanzaa, are celebrated by their devotees and increasingly promulgated to the rest of society.

Nor need these celebrations be held behind closed doors or hidden from children. Indeed, the acceptance of different faiths and traditions is something we should encourage generally, but especially in children. It is part of any realistic upbringing. We all need to know that we can disagree with each other without coming to blows-indeed that we can join in each others' celebrations insofar as that is fitting.

That being so, the majority of Americans who are Christian can reasonably ask that their traditions too should be celebrated without their being made to feel that they will thereby give offense to others. If Kwanzaa, then Christmas-especially since most African-Americans are devout Christians. And what makes this argument still more compelling is that Christmas is both more and less than a religious festival. Though it is second only to Easter in the Christian calendar, Christmas has also been a secular cultural celebration of general good will and fellowship throughout the West and the English-speaking world since at least the middle of the nineteenth century. Severe Christians, indeed, have sometimes objected to the commercial excesses of this Yuletide. But its central message of good will embraced everyone — including unbelievers and Scrooge. No one who offered a drink to a non-Christian on Christmas morning had the covert intention of converting him. He was simply loving his neighbor as himself.

But there is a sense in which all this is beside the point. Behind these civil justifications for the anti-Christmas movement, at least in some cases, lie darker motives. There is an animus against Christmas that has nothing to do with being sensitive towards those excluded from its religious comforts. It is obscurely resented by those who dislike the traditional beliefs and practices of their own society — both religious and cultural — and who wish to uproot them in their drive towards a more "rational" and consciously constructed social order. Both the Nazis and the Bolsheviks sought to replace Christmas with their own daft festivals — the Nazis with a kind of pantheistic worship of winter itself, the Bolsheviks with a Santa Claus impostor going under the chilly name of Father Frost. And by their own lights they were quite correct. Christmas stands squarely in the way of their own vile utopias because it connects people with their families, with their own childhood, with their country's past, with their civilization's beginnings, and as Scrooge discovered, with their finest and most generous qualities.

That is why people loved Christmas, still love it, and always will love it. Attempts to make it a celebration of season or snow or mere meteorology will fail — but there is a danger that they will succeed in annoying most Americans to the point where they will wish others a Merry Christmas not from merriment and kindness but as an act of irritation, defiance and aggression.

And that really would be the triumph of Scrooge.

 
 

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