This morning's Washington Post used the occasion to publish a brief essay by memoirist Brian Broome titled "I hate Christmas. And you should be okay with that." The first sentence in the that headline is his birthright as an American. Unlike in much of the rest of the world, Americans can believe what they want, and unless it directly threatens the safety of others, proclaim it to the world. Amen to that.
The second part is an odd request, if you think about it. Why should faithful Christians -- or empathetic secular humanists, for that matter -- be "okay" with his alienation? Their instincts are to ameliorate it -- invite him to dinner, sing him a hymn, send him a Christmas present. But there's the rub: As a working-class boy in Ohio, Brian Broome felt that the essence of the season was cultural pressure to buy gifts his family could not afford. That is certainly one message an impressionable and thoughtful child could form. There are others, if one looks for them. These signs that something good is afoot range from the charitable giving that takes place every December to the kindness of strangers at this time of year.
It's certainly reasonable to believe that celebrating the birth of Jesus of Nazareth with rampant commercialization seems inherently discordant. It would be as if the Founding Fathers of the freest nation on earth -- the ones who ignited a revolution with soaring words about the "self-evident" truths of liberty and the pursuit of happiness -- were themselves slaveowners. Oh, wait…
As for Christmastime consumerism, expending vast sums of money to exchange toys, clothes, and gadgets we don't really need does seem contrary to Christianity's core message. On the other hand, as this nation learned after the attacks of 9/11, and much of the rest of world learned after the onset of COVID, we live in a global economy. Much of it is a service economy, which is why closing restaurants, gyms, salons, film studios, and stadiums created such societal disruption.
Our way of life also still depends on the manufacture and distribution of tangible products. Those toys, books, clothes and streaming devices you buy each Christmas (cover the children's ears, please) aren't really made by elves at the North pole and they aren't delivered in Santa's sleigh.
The livelihood of tens of millions of Americans (and untold hundreds of millions around the globe) depends on farms and factories, and the latest killer app from Silicon Valley -- along with the merchant sailors and longshoremen who handle container ships that transport these goods, and the truck drivers who disperse them around the country. And let's not forget the people working in warehouses, the store clerks, and contract drivers who drop packages off at our porches or apartments. These workers feed their families and buy other goods and services to help others feed theirs. They all pay taxes to support the safety net woven by local, state, and federal governments. And yes, they provide the money donated to St. Jude Children's Hospital, Toys for Tots, Pay Away the Layaway, the Prison Fellowship Angel Tree, Make-a-Wish Foundation, Operation Christmas Spirit, and a thousand other charitable organizations.
In other words, it's a dicey impulse to succumb to your inner Scrooge on humanitarian grounds:
"A few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth," a volunteer told Ebeneezer in his shop. "We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when want is keenly felt, and abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?"
"Nothing!" Scrooge replied.
"You wish to be anonymous?"
"I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. "Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle people merry."
Charles Dickens' point in "A Christmas Carol," and mine expressed much more feebly this morning, is that excising the "merry" out of "Merry Christmas" has never been that simple, and saying "Bah, humbug!" to Christmas itself comes at a cost.
Carl M. Cannon is the Washington bureau chief for RealClearPolitics. Reach him on Twitter @CarlCannon.