My family is full of convictions. We can’t countenance Christmas decorations before
Thanksgiving. We might make our
Christmas lists, but we don’t share them until after Thanksgiving dinner. We are really holding out against the consumerism
of a secular Christmas.
We’re keeping Thanksgiving pure—Macy’s
Parade, lots of football, and an extra indulgence for our gluttony. My peeps are too full to go shopping on
Thursday. That is as it should be. Sales attendants should not be required to
work holidays. Black Friday is when
shopping is ordained. And, even then, my
clan tries to buy goods that do not take too much advantage of foreign workers…
unless the price differential is just too much.
We constantly have to contend with the
marketers who use all 12 of our household television and streaming devices. Everywhere
we look Madison Avenue is in our face using our religious holiday to make us
think we are not a cozy family unless we are in debt. I’m particularly scandalized by these luxury
car commercials wrapping a whole automobile up in a red ribbon. I thought about
buying a car for my wife last year, but I finally choked on the price-tag. We already have five cars for our four
drivers, anyway. And be assured of this: you will not catch my family listening
to Christmas music in the car before Thanksgiving. Christians have to draw the line somewhere.
Some of my friends get mad at me when they
overhear me offer someone a “blessed holiday.” Evidently by failing to use the word
“Christmas” I’m participating in a conspiracy that is trying to disguise the
Christian origins of Santa Claus.
I want to believe their convictions are
sincere, because it would rock my world to think that all of our little holiday
convictions are meant to assure us that we still have some. I
don’t want to think about how difficult Jesus said it is for the rich. I want to sleep comfortably in my 15 room
house without being bothered that the Son of man “didn’t own a place to lay his
head.”
