The real 'war on Christmas': holiday spirit becomes a burden when it's compulsory

It's OK to feel pensive instead of chipper during the holiday season

There is something manufactured about the holiday spirit. It is presented to us in the form of sales and incessant music that begins earlier and earlier each year. As I write this, I'm listening to Christmas music, but even that is an attempt to conjure up some warmth and good will rather than an expression of actual cheer.

The whole season feels rather like the moment in A Charlie Brown Christmas when Lucy conspiratorially whispers: "It's all run by an eastern syndicate, you know."

Usually, the holiday cheer conspiracy works on me, but I'm not feeling it this year. I look at the news of recent months, and any good will toward my fellow man shrivels. 

That doesn't mean that the incessant soundtrack, the Christmas sales or the marathons of made-for-TV holiday movies have stopped happening around me - Christmas has a hold over us as a culture. But when the joy of the holiday becomes compulsory, our behavior and feelings seemingly monitored by specters of past Elves on Shelves, holiday spirit becomes a burden.

I feel closer to Charlie Brown this year, feeling let down by the overt commercialism of the season, more than I have in the past. I've always warmed to Linus's simple optimism, and those pesky existential moments begin to melt away when Linus calls, "Lights, please," because whatever you believe or however you choose to celebrate the holiday season, there is something beautiful about the humble beginnings of Luke's writing on the birth of Jesus that Linus recites under the warm glow of the stage lights.

But even so, despite how I have been raised, despite what I still believe, I can't smile with Linus. I can't join in with Hark! The Herald Angel Sing at the end of the film, each voice lifted in song. My voice catches in my throat, and I sit back, falling into a Charlie Brown-like malaise, being unable to pinpoint the exact cause beyond general winter blues.

Perhaps it is time for me - and for us - to embrace Charlie Brown's anxiety over the season, to dial back and refocus on the non-pageantry,

Another way to understand the holidays may be by focusing on the Advent rather than the dictatorial commercialism, and not just the Advent calendars meant to countdown the days till Christmas with chocolates. Recognized by churches based in liturgical tradition, such as Catholic, Anglican and Episcopalian ones, Advent covers the four Sundays preceding Christmas. It is meant as a time of reflection and preparation for the celebration of Christ's birth and his second coming. It is a time of waiting.

Anticipation signals that something is unsettled; something isn't right. There is an acknowledgement of the darkness we are in; after all, it is the darkest time of the year. But within that recognition is a hope - however tenuous and small it may be - that there is a light.

This season, it isn't the Christmas story itself that has spoken to me. It is a collect - a short petition, focused on theme - from the Book Of Common Prayer that a friend recently shared with me. It is the Collect for Aid Against All Perils, and it's meant as an evening prayer to gather one's thoughts and worship:

"Lighten our darkness we beseech thee O Lord, and by thy great mercy, defend us from all perils and dangers and this nigh, for the love of thy only son our savior, Jesus Christ."

It doesn't ask for God to take away the darkness entirely, but to lighten it. It allows for a conflict of feeling. We can acknowledge the dark, but we needn't run straight forward into the light, forcing ourselves to feel joy when arguably there is not much to be found right now.

There is room for the Charlie Browns and the Linuses; we don't need to choose or feel forced too. However you choose to recognize the holiday season this year - with or without religion - it's a viable option to sit and wait for a better season to come.