'TIS THE SEASON
Published December 23, 2002

As a non-practicing lapsed Christian with no children or parents and very little family, it's been years since I've really been in the loop emotionally on Christmas . These days I actually get more worked up about the winter solstice. I don't think it's the pagan in me bubbling to the surface, as appealing as that idea is. Even when I was a church-goer, the weeks from when we set our clocks back until Christmas always felt oddly bleak. I learned later that extended periods of declining daylight can bring on a corresponding darkening of the mood, a negative reaction that people in virtually all cultures experience (with the possible exception of morticians, the mole people, and, I hope, Dick Cheney).

It's my guess that even the Druids got depressed at this time of year, though they probably didn't notice the difference. Thankfully, by the time you're reading this nature will have fought off the encroaching darkness and swung us back toward the light, giving me exactly the kind of psychological boost I need to make it through the rest of this holiday season. Because of all the major holidays, Christmas is the most relentless.

First there's the gauntlet of highly blunderable social calculations: Who gets a card? Who gets a gift? With a tag, or without? Which invitation to who's what do I accept? When and with whom is it preferable to use the theologically commited "Merry Christmas", as opposed to the pseudo-secular "Happy Holidays"?

Not to mention that professional minefield called the office Christmas party, with its myriad opportunities for drinking too much and making an ass of one's self in front of clients and associates. Add to this the constant pressure to shop, above and beyond the President's call for us to roll up our sleeves and max out our credit cards so that freedom can endure. In an orgy of materialsim rivaling any pagan festival, the ever-expanding Christmas shopping season now accounts for close to 75% of annual retail purchases, a statistic the financial media harps on with the unmistakeable subtext that, even though Christ died for our spiritual salvation, only the consumer can save our economy.

The buying frenzy is accompanied by an avalanche of advertising louder than any Tower of Babel, with the average American being bombarded by over 3000 commercial messages daily. That's a lot of voices. If Joan of Arc was alive today, odds are she'd take her army to the mall.

Then, if you're lucky enough to successfully negotiate your way through these treacherous waters, all that's left for you is to tackle the Big Questions, questions of faith, and meaning, and where we put God in our lives.

Fortunately, that's one great advantage of Christmas in California. Those questions remain largely open for the average Californian. Most people here are willing to consider the possibility that almost any path can lead to God. As long as it's smoke-free, that is. Renounce tobacco, and all other beliefs are acceptable..

That's because so many Californians, whether or not they've returned to more traditional approaches, have at least looked at alternatives. The promise of transformation is part and parcel of California's rich history and character. From the gold rush to the grapes of wrath, from surfers and sun-worshippers to the summer of love, from Heaven' s Gate to Hell's Angels, California has always attracted the restless seeker.

And while this demand has created a constant supply of spiritual snake oil, and while the rest of the country often mocks us for what it sees as our transient and shallow beliefs, it's just as possible that, once again, we're on to something here in California. Clearly the events of the recent past show the dangers of rigid beliefs held too deeply, and how keeping the faith can be as big a part of the problem as the solution. With our embrace of eclecticism, simultaneously cosmic and casual, we may be on the brink of a truly universal religion here in California, with one central tenet: I believe what you believe. Cows are sacred, pork's not kosher, aroma's therapeutic, plants can talk, and dolphins have larger vocabularies than wrestling fans. It's all true, or at least more worth considering than fighting over.

So with that in mind, whether you believe we crawled out of the slime or got thrown out of the garden, descended from apes or just plain idiots, happy holidays and best wishes for the new year. And God/Yahweh/Allah/Krishna/Buddha/Gaia bless us, every one.

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