It probably comes as little surprise to most of my readers that I'm known for being something of a Scrooge. A healthy skepticism over the sincerity of holiday wishes when extended by complete strangers combined with a bone-deep contempt for monoculture leaves me in something less than a purely "Ho Ho Ho" mood most Christmases, despite the abundance of engagingly bad music that characterizes the season and tends to mitigate my contempt. There's even a quieter part of me that suspects that many Christians who take their faith as a personal and serious manner would resent my being asked to participate in any observance of Christmas, and I am wary of being urged to disrespect that.
But this year I've enjoyed the season more as I've come to see it less as a triumph of religious evangelism and more as a triumph of, you guessed it, the ubiquitous cultural influence of New York City. A secular cultural insitution predicated on goodwill, generosity, no small amount of old-fashioned capitalism, good cheer in the darkness of seasonally-affected winter, and savvy marketing? I'm all 'bout it. Stick with me on this one, though; I'm not completely crazy.
Christmas itself predates New York, of course. And messianic arrival celebrations predate Jesus, and solstice celebrations predate recorded history. So I'm not actually crediting the entire manger mythology to Madison Avenue, I'm just asserting that there are critical parts to the contemporary observation of the holiday that were nurtured in the city's bosom. I suggest this with some trepidation, knowing that there are those who would balk at the myrrh suggestion that some traditions are recent, rather than ancient, and that they are secular and man-made, rather than divine. But if it's any consolation, these discoveries helped make the holiday season fun for me again.
