By Dave Hitt on Nov 28, 2008 in Atheism, Featured, Pop Culture

I deal with Christmas differently than most atheists.

I celebrate it. I put up lights and a tree and give gifts and say “Merry Christmas” and mean it. I’ve played Santa Claus on several occasions, with the full costume, enjoyed it, and will probably do it again.

Devout Christians rail against how secular the holiday has become. I’m delighted with it. There is no Christ in my Christmas. it is a purely secular for me. My decorations don’t include a crèche or a bloody crucifix. There are a couple of angel ornaments in the tree, but there are also unicorns and a swinging Spiderman who are just as real.

I’m sure some psychologist would link my delight in a secular Christmas to my childhood. I was raised in a fundy cult that didn’t celebrate Christmas (or Easter, or birthdays, or any other holiday that might result in some fun or joy). Christmas was a horrible time for my sister and me. All our non-cult friends talked endlessly about the cool toys they got, while we sat silent and dejected. When we were asked “What did you get for Christmas” we had to answer “We don’t celebrate it.” “But don’t you believe in Christ?” “Yes we do, but…” and then we’d try to change the subject, embarrassed more than any little kid should be. My grandparents, on my mother’s side, always gave us presents around then, and we loved them for it. It was a delicious taste of what we were missing.

My wife is more of an agnostic, while I’m a hard core atheist, but there was never any question about raising our kids without Christmas. We never even discussed it. We relished their anticipation. We loved their excitement as they ripped open their presents. And yes, we did the whole Santa thing with them. She didn’t want to deprive them of the fun and I figured learning the truth would contribute to them developing a mil-spec bullshit detector.

Now they’re adults and we all celebrate and enjoy a Christ-less Christmas.

I don’t like everything that goes with it. I hate the commercials, but I have Tivo and listen to podcasts instead of the radio, so they’re not much of a problem. (There should be a $10,000 fine for every commercial that uses the trite theme “Where Santa Shops.” Anyone who uses the actual phrase should be fined a cool million.) I hate Christmas music too. I worked in retail for years, and hearing the same ten songs blasted in an endless loop all day will do that to you.

But I like most of the other things that go with the holiday. I like looking at decorated houses while driving down the road or walking through the neighborhood. I like the tree full of ornaments and flashing lights. (I’m easily entertained by shiny things.) I love giving and receiving gifts. I like the kids who come caroling at my door. I always tell them I’ll give them more if they sing “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.” They always want to, and their parents, standing in the background, always forbid it, which I find entertaining.

To those who would call me a hypocrite, I say, “Fine, call me a hypocrite. I’ve been called much worse, and if I was worried about other people’s opinion of me I wouldn’t be so open about being an atheist.” If some of my fellow atheists are offended by it that’s their problem, not mine. If theists think it’s sacrilegious or a sin, that’s OK too. Sacrilege and sin aren’t real things in my world, so again, it’s not my problem.

One of the great joys of atheism is freedom. I am free to do whatever I like as long as it doesn’t hurt someone else. The way I celebrate Christmas hurts no one, and my non-theistic family enjoys it immensely.

I know many atheists who eschew anything having to do with religious holidays, and that’s fine too. I have the utmost respect for their decision to divorce themselves from the fantasy and nonsense holidays are built around. But I’ve chosen a different approach, one that’s right for me.

I’m writing this late at night, right after celebrating Thanksgiving. There was no giving of thanks, just a big meal we all worked on, then stuffed ourselves with. Just like Christmas, there was no religious component at all, it was simply a chance for us to cook together, then eat together while listening to “Alice’s Restaurant.” It’s not a proper Thanksgiving without Arlo in the background talking about twenty seven eight-by-ten color glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one.

Then we vegged out in the living room and watched one of our favorite movies: A Christmas Story.