The Christmas Spirit

We talk glibly about the greed of profiteers; but there is a sheep-like streak in the human race, which makes us rather enjoy being exploited. How otherwise can one account for the rapidly increasing commercialization of every phase of human affection and sentiment? For instance, the artful and seductive advertiser has so trained us, that the first thing we think on hearing of a friend’s engagement is: ‘Good Heavens! What shall I give them for a wedding present?’ Half-a-dozen weddings in a family are a serious tax on all but its most opulent members; and though something may be said in favor of the habit of receiving wedding presents, the middle-aged bachelor of either sex can find but few kind words for the custom of giving them.

And when the most beautiful festivals of the Church are exploited by the manufacturers and shopkeepers, it is time to call a halt. What idea of the Christian religion would the hypothetical visitor from Mars gain by strolling through the shopping district of any American town shortly before Easter? Easter bonnets, Easter bunnies, Easter eggs are bad enough; but by the time he came to ‘Easter corsets,’ it would be hard to convince him that Easter was not as secular and frivolous a date as April Fool’s Day.

Christmas has been even more thoroughly commercialized and desecrated, the better to fill money-bags that are already bursting open. Unfortunately, the money-bags have as their firmest allies the well-meaning folk who indulge in orgies of sentiment over what they sobbingly speak of as the ‘Christmas spirit.’ The scoffers who go on about sun-myths and Druid ceremonies and such-like entertainments will never hurt the spirit of Christmas; it is so human a quality that, like the rest of us, it can be hurt only by its friends. They who bring the Christmas spirit into disrepute are those admirable monsters of forethought who start during the January sales laying in the stock of their nefarious trade; who during December fill the house with reams of white tissue-paper and miles of red ribbon; who positively exude Christmas stickers and seals and tags and labels; who ‘remember’ everyone with at least a Christmas card; and whose deepest humiliation it is to be remembered by someone they had themselves forgotten. Their preparations endure up to Christmas Eve, their frenzy increasing as the hour approaches. Yet, when the longexpected day dawns at last, does anyone suppose that these virtuous souls can sit back and enjoy life? Far from it! By that time they are completely submerged in the return avalanche; for, to paraphrase the words of Scripture, to him that giveth shall be given; so the rest of the month is spent in writing and receiving unmeaning letters of hollow thanks.

What a horrid parody of what Christmas should be, might still be, if the admirable self-restraint and self-abnegation and sense of humor of my New Year’s friend were more widely followed! I can see my New Year’s friend in my mind’s eye; not her features, — they are unfortunately rather vague and undefined, — but her delightfully whimsical and kindly expression, her look of gentle seriousness breaking into a delicious twinkle. She is generous, sensitive, reserved, humorous, and romantic, and it shows in her face. Though I know her so well, I fear that, in a court of law, this description of her would not be admitted as evidence. To tell the truth, all I actually know of my New Year’s friend is that for the past four years I have received on that propitious date, either by an unknown messenger or by the minions of the late Mr. Burleson, a New Year’s card accompanying a golden eagle or its paper equivalent, together with an admonition that it is to be spent solely on myself. The envelope is addressed in an unfamiliar hand and bears no stationer’s stamp, nor is there any other clue to follow up. I spend the enclosure religiously on some useless and beguiling article, which I should otherwise never think of indulging in.

No other present has ever afforded me the pleasure, amusement, and interest of this anonymous gift; and I am convinced that the giver gets almost as much fun out of it as I do. She cannot fail to do so; for, though her gift does not coincide with Christmas, she has the real Christmas spirit, giving with no possibility of thanks, no hope of return. I am glad at last to be able to tell her a little of the pleasure she has given me. Luckily there is no doubt that she will see this, for a person of her unusual qualities of head and heart must be a confirmed reader of the Atlantic!

Now, having won the war, and made the world safe for democracy and the cider-mill and unsafe for the League of Nations and the purchaser of woodalcohol, why cannot we turn to with a will and save Christmas for our descendants by following the methods of my New Year’s friend? Our gifts need not take the form of hard cash, and some of them might even be given at Christmas; but at least let them be anonymous and appropriate, let none be given to get rid of an obligation, or, still worse, of a last year’s white elephant. We should give and receive fewer presents, but they would come radiant with the sheer joy of giving. We should be spared the agony of writing mendacious notes of thanks, and the horrible and demoralizing phrase, ‘Suitable for Christmas gifts,’ would disappear forever from the advertising columns of the daily press.

It is high time we remembered that the Christmas spirit has nothing in common with the gains of profiteers or with crowded shops and overworked saleswomen; still less with the giving of perfunctory and awkward thanks for perfunctory and un desired ‘remembrances.’ It should be as free as air, as spontaneous as a child’s smile; and the gifts it inspires should be as anonymous as the other good things of life.

While we are about it, we might also rescue Easter from the clutches of the milliner, florist, and stationer, the Fourth of July from the exploitation of the gunpowder and fireworks manufacturer. These may seem very minor reforms, but a moment’s reflection will show us that the commercialization of our pleasures and social instincts is one of the dangers of the world to-day, and that the reaction to this dimly perceived peril was a strong factor in the passing of the Eighteenth Amendment. Let us leave the Constitution alone in future, and reform ourselves. It can be done: my New Year’s friend has shown the way.