Merry Saturnalia or Merry Christmas? (with audio)

Santa Claus as illustrated in 
Puck (magazine)
Image part of public domain

What exactly is Christmas? To me, Christmas teems with ironies and paradoxes. Although the holiday nominally commemorates the humble birth of Jesus on December 25th, it's Santa Claus who often steals the spotlight. Decked out in his iconic red suit, Santa, not Jesus, becomes the focal point of the season, urging us to spend lavishly—and we often oblige without question, lest we feel the sting of guilt for not giving enough.

Yet, behind the merriment, the historical figure of Jesus becomes almost an afterthought. Only after indulging perhaps too much, both in spending and consuming, do we toss out phrases like “Praise the Lord” or “Peace on Earth” to ease our conscience. These clichés feel sufficient to justify our excesses. Ironically, it’s fitting that Santa, a character popularized by a beverage company’s marketing campaign, overshadows the biblical carpenter’s son in our celebrations. After all, commerce often takes precedence, urging us to buy everywhere we go.

 

Admittedly, the concept of giving gifts warms the heart. This month, as I shopped for obligatory client gifts at the mall, I occasionally found items perfect for my close friends and family. Spotting something on sale, I'd think, “X would love this; it’s her favorite,” or, “This would cheer Y up, especially with all his work stress.” But then, a thought occurs: why wait for Christmas? What if they're gone before December 25th? Perhaps gifts could just as well be placed on their graves, a thought both sweet and somber.

This leads me to ponder why I don't just give these thoughtful gifts on any regular day, especially when it’s needed most, instead of when the malls are bustling and everyone is shopping out of seasonal obligation.

When asked what I'm giving my friends this Christmas, I replied, “Nothing really.” My explanation? We see each other often, sharing life’s simple joys and struggles organically, without the facade of obligatory, once-a-year gift-giving. My friend called me cheap and accused me of hiding behind Zen-like philosophy. Yet, if Christmas is truly about heartfelt giving, why do our actions for the rest of the year seem to count for so little?

 

Reflecting on the nativity, if the three wise men had been women, would they have brought practical gifts like blankets and comfort, rather than gold and myrrh? Humorously, if I were Mary, I’d question the practicality of their famous gifts, given her immediate needs post-birth.

Despite my critique, I can’t deny the joy of receiving gifts, but I lament how commercialized Christmas has become. It's as if the true essence of love, peace, and salvation has been buried under a pile of gift receipts. The big businesses certainly emerge as winners, capitalizing on our festive spirits to turn a profit, and while we do donate generously to charities, we rarely question the deeper systemic issues perpetuated by such seasonal consumerism.

 

Once, I believed as my devout Catholic grandmother did—that Jesus’s message was universal love. Today, I saw a tired mall Santa, a stark contrast to the lively and compassionate figure Jesus is said to be. It made me think: if Jesus really wanted us to celebrate his birth, wouldn’t he encourage us to do so every day, spreading love and goodwill continually, rather than confining it to just one?

Historically, December 25th aligns more closely with Saturnalia, an ancient festival of role reversals, temporary freedoms, and excesses, which sounds surprisingly modern in its commercial and indulgent echoes.

 

So this year, perhaps it’s more apt to say, “Merry Saturnalia!” And to those celebrating the traditional essence of Christmas, maybe it's time to rethink how we honor this day, aiming to embody the spirit of generosity and love throughout the entire year.