For a variety of reasons, we’ve gone in search of holiday spirit this year. Search results: The harder you look, the more elusive it seems. As we continue looking, we are faced with the persistent question: What are we looking for? Will light finally dawn on Marblehead?
Like most people in this country, we were raised in a Christian tradition, so at home and elsewhere we are surrounded by Christian “signs of the season:” carols in every venue, decorations of red on green Christmas trees, boughs of holly, creches and nativity scenes representing a variety of ethnicities. In our town, with a high representation of Jewish families, there is at least a nod to Hanukkah, with menorah lighting celebrations that mark a Jewish victory over oppression.
There are few other nods to other cultures that celebrate the turn of the seasons or coming of the light locally or anywhere else in the U.S., at least that I can see. Still, it helps me to realize that cultural celebrations of light are taking place all over the world in one form or another, whether they’re readily noticeable or not.
If you visited our home today, you’d think we were infused with holiday spirit. There are lights everywhere, and ribbons and bows and Santas and nutcrackers and carolers and whirligigs and holly and silver and gold and bright paper packages tied up with string and my favorite white roses. And one old Grinch, typing away about Grinchy things.
In my last column, I mentioned that attending Old North Church’s Festival Chorus was a mandatory event in our family for acquiring holiday spirit. Musically, it did not disappoint. As ever, director Maria van Kalken drew the very best from her musicians to make both difficult and catchy compositions come to life beautifully. I love to sing along when the program tells the audience to join in.
Now, I’ve been told I have a decent voice, and some have been overly generous and called it lovely. Am I overreacting by taking offense at the person who plopped down in front of me halfway through the first section, first of all blocking my view, then when audience participation time came around, turning to shoot me a look that would frost Frosty and then — and then — taking their ears and folding them forward?! You will recall my Sicilian temperament when I say it was a good thing that person moved at intermission.
I guess when one Grinch encounters another, sparks are destined to fly.
But really, I’m not a Grinch. Deep in my heart, I love this season, for all it represents. As I’ve studied world religions, it’s been clear that all cultures have spiritual observances that mark the changing seasons. At this darkest time of year in our hemisphere, humans honor the return of the coming extra light by burning candles and lighting bonfires and celebrating the birth of a deity or a triumph over the powers of darkness. I love that about humans, in all our cultures.
So: What’s making the joy that should be inherent in this season so very elusive is the determined rage and fury present in so many parts of our fragile planet and to a lesser but still troubling extent right here in our town. The fire and light we hear and see in photos and videos from abroad are not welcoming. They are not celebrating the birth of life and light; they are inflicting death and destruction. No matter whom you sympathize with, the rage and killing overwhelm even the most positive soul. And here in the town we call home, the bickering and name calling is dispiriting at best.
Sure, I’ll keep watching holiday movies, listening to carols and other music of the season, enjoying the lights and the roses as I choose and wrapping gifts for the people I love. I’ll keep hoping, impossibly, that warring factions around the globe and around the corner will find light shining in their dark streets and make it everlasting. Holidays were meant to be happy, after all.
