By Michael Shook
“Christmas is coming” … I don’t know if the goose is getting fat, but some of us undoubtedly will add some, given all the delicious, butter-laden food that is such a wonderful part of the season. We should also grant that, for those not fond of wet, short, cold, and dark days, it’s not exactly “the most wonderful time of the year” (you have my sympathy).
Nevertheless, Christmas is a joy for many, and eagerly anticipated, especially by small humans (big ones, too!) looking to gain or, more likely, add to their stockpiles of stuff. Yes, yes, materialism, and/or consumerism. It’s the American way, especially now, as the nation grows increasingly secular. Every year, it feels less religious and more about Santa Claus and presents. That, and whatever new merchandising Disney has created in the guise of an animated children’s movie.
Yet, the season still has plenty of the air of religiosity about it, even if fewer celebrate it as the birth of the Messiah. So, it prompts me to again consider religion, and religiousness, what it means to be religious, and what the word itself actually means. I do this religiously (meaning, in this case, that I can be relied upon to do it with great regularity).
The etymology of “religious” is varied. Cicero thought it came from “relegere,” to read, gather together, or pass over the same ground repeatedly, but that viewpoint has become rare. It is now considered derived from “religare,” to bind things together (hence ligature, ligament). I like both. Given Cicero’s many outstanding accomplishments, it’s a bit chintzy that his etymology gets short shrift, but on the other hand, he had a heck of a good run (until executed by Octavian/Augustus – ouch), and he has an abundance of other accolades, so I guess it all works out.
In Cicero’s form, it suits us well as we gather together for the holidays. In so doing, we “pass over the same ground repeatedly,” often in a literal way (think of driving the same route to someone’s home). Whether religious in the supernatural sense or not, many of us have a ritual way of gathering at the same house for a feast. We also pass over the same ground in conversation as we inquire to each other’s health, economy, and new or old undertakings. I would always engage both my father and Uncle Vic in post-dinner cribbage games, a ritual I loved (and sorely miss, now that they are deceased). We battled, politely, but battled still, for at least a couple of games each.
In such mundane pastimes, the bonds of affection, family, and community are built, strengthened, and renewed. By such activities we are, in a psychological and emotional sense, bound and rebound to one another – one could say re-ligiously so (or re-ligamented?).
The importance, and absence of, such binding was keenly felt by many during the COVID lockdown. The degree of separation people felt was profound, and I believe we are still emerging from that, still finding our way back to the interconnectedness we sometimes took for granted. We might hardly have noticed our need for such connections until our community was suddenly whisked away, rendered almost impossible to engage with, at least face-to-face.
I think we are all religious in that connective sense, even when we are not strictly religious in the supernatural sense. Some folks will bristle when it is suggested they are “religious.” That’s understandable, since I know of no one who enjoys being told what he or she is about. But, as noted above, the notion of religiousness is much broader (and deeper) than we think. Much of religion revolves around ritual, and carries with it dogma, and we rightly accept this as an integral part of religion in the godly sense. Yet, ritual and dogma abound in all sorts of belief systems, even in those touted as “evidence-based” ways of being.
Note that “dogma” means literally, “that which one thinks is true.” That which one thinks is true. The distinction is important. We all hold views and beliefs that we think are true (but which ain’t necessarily so), and those beliefs are manifested in daily rituals that reinforce our particular dogma.
For me, as a practicing Christian, Christmas is about celebrating the birth of Jesus (I’m an Episcopalian – which counts! – though some deeply conservative sects might take issue with that). I’m also perfectly happy to acknowledge that the day represents the clever co-opting of Solstice celebrations. Of course, the actual day Jesus was born is not important, nor are the birthdays of Buddha, Lao-Tze, or any number of other spiritual leaders. The most important thing is the teaching. And that teaching, for Christians, in a very small nutshell, is to love God with all you’ve got, and to love your neighbor as yourself. That’s it. Easy to say, but a lifelong and humbling effort to do.
Surprisingly, in their behaviour, some of the most Christian people I’ve known are also the most atheistic. “Whoa!” you say, “How is that, if they don’t believe in God?” No big deal. For me, the word “God” is simply “a metaphor for that which I cannot comprehend,” representing the real but unnameable Mystery of the Universe, and all within. For you, it might mean something different, or nothing at all. You may not use the word “God,” and frankly, outside of church, I don’t like to either, since it just confuses people. I simply mean that many people find God – the transcendent mystery – in their own way, in all they do, and thus they practice being kind to all of Nature, and all of Humanity.
It is with these sentiments in mind that I wish everyone and everything a most joyful, most happy, and most Merry Christmas!
