That may seem like an odd title for this post because it’s a celebration of the Holiday Season, a reflection of my incorrigibly stubborn hopefulness, and an acknowledgement of the inscrutability of human nature. So, perhaps I should explain.
The world, as you likely know, is rife with turmoil. I say as you likely know because the world’s always in turmoil. We’re human beings. Turmoil is what we do. And why not? We’re really good at it. We’ve been good at it for our entire history on the planet. That turmoil manifests in our 24-hour news cycles with stories of rising antisemitism, of persistent racism, of ignorance, fear, hatred, and all manner of violence and brutality. In the Northern Hemisphere, the days get shorter while our capacities for antisemitism, racism, ignorance, fear, hatred, violence, and brutality get longer.
And now, we face the age-old dilemma: What do we do with all of that during the Holiday Season? Do we commune in the spirit of the Season? Or do we allow ourselves to be separated by our differing religious beliefs, ideologies, dogmas, prejudices, and myriad other unfounded — or, at least, unexamined — convictions?
Stop
If you don’t already recognize the criminal and self-defeating absurdity of allowing ourselves to be separated from our shared humanity and our shared spirituality, I offer a morsel of food for thought from the early 20th century, as recounted on history.com:
On Christmas Eve 1914, in the dank, muddy trenches on the Western Front of the First World War, a remarkable thing happened … The Germans were singing carols … soldiers began to climb nervously out of their trenches, and to meet in the barbed-wire-filled “No Man’s Land” that separated the armies. Normally, the British and Germans communicated across No Man’s Land with streaking bullets, with only occasional gentlemanly allowances to collect the dead unmolested. But now, there were handshakes and words of kindness. The soldiers traded songs, tobacco, and wine, joining in a spontaneous holiday party in the cold night … small pockets of French, German, Belgian, and British troops held impromptu cease-fires across the Western Front, with reports of some on the Eastern Front as well … One British fighter named Ernie Williams later described in an interview his recollection of some makeshift soccer play on what turned out to be an icy pitch: “The ball appeared from somewhere, I don’t know where … They made up some goals and one fellow went in goal and then it was just a general kick-about. I should think there were about a couple of hundred taking part.”
Soldiers, warriors trained to kill or be killed, stopped killing. For one magical evening, they ignored their political mandates to slaughter each other. They bonded. They sang and played. They exchanged gifts. They recognized each other as fellow human beings, sharing the desire to live and to celebrate a spiritual kinship bigger than themselves — bigger than a person, an army, or a nation. Brothers in arms? They were brothers in living. And they defied orders, choosing instead to celebrate a Holy Night with each other.
If that was possible 109 years ago, what the hell are we doing now? Why are we doing it? And what are we doing about it?
Reality
No. I’m not ignoring the Israeli/Hamas war. There is a centuries-long history of war, occupation, irreconcilable religious zealotry, unsettled territorial claims, and every kind of religious and ideological intolerance there. As a result, the desire to kill is greater than the desire for peace in the Middle East. Neither am I ignoring the war in Ukraine. There is a centuries-long history of war, occupation, irreconcilable religious zealotry, unsettled territorial claims, and every kind of religious and ideological intolerance there, too. As a result, the desire to kill is greater than the desire for peace in Eastern Europe. That’s nothing more or less than — absolutely no different from — reality. If you’re prepared to offer a countering view, come at me, Bro, as they say in the biz.
I don’t care about that, either.
I don’t care what color you are. I don’t care what religion you practice. I don’t care what gender you think you are. I don’t care what ideology compels you to hop around. I don’t care what you do or think you have to do. I only care that you stop. Some time during the Holiday Season, just stop.
You don’t even have to think. If you can stop and be completely still without thinking, more power to you. If you can keep any manner of contemplation, introspection, or benevolence from creeping into your head, that might have to be okay … as long as you’re quiet. Who knows what might happen?
You might hear the reverent hush of a humble manger. You might see the guiding light of a triumphant menorah. You might sense the communion of spirits in a mosque or a monastery at prayer. But you’ll experience none of that if you’re not quietly observant.
