"Three things go by the name of Christmas. One is a religious festival. This is important and obligatory for Christians. . . . The second (it has complex historical connections with the first, but we needn't go into them) is a popular holiday, an occasion for merry-making. If it were my business to have a 'view' on this, I should say that I much approve of merry-making. . . . But the third thing called Christmas is unfortunately everyone's business.
"I mean of course the commercial racket. . . . I condemn it on the following grounds.
"I mean of course the commercial racket. . . . I condemn it on the following grounds.
- It gives on the whole much more pain than pleasure. You have only to stay over Christmas with a family who seriously try to ‘keep’ it [in the commerical sense] in order to see that the thing is a nightmare. Long before December 25th everyone is worn out—physically worn out by weeks of daily struggle in overcrowded shops, mentally worn out by the effort to remember all the right recipients and to think out suitable gifts for them. They are in no trim for merry-making; much less (if they should want to) to take part in a religious act. They look far more as if there had been a long illness in the house.
- Most of it is involuntary. The modern rule is that anyone can force you to give him a present by sending you a quite unprovoked present of his own. It is almost a blackmail. Who has not heard the wail of despair, and indeed of resentment, when, at the last moment, just as everyone hoped that the nuisance was over for one more year, the unwanted gift from Mrs. Busy (whom we hardly remember) flops unwelcomed through the letter-box, and back to the dreadful shops one of us has to go?
- Things are given as presents which no mortal ever bought for himself—gaudy and useless gadgets, ‘novelties’ because no one was ever fool enough to make their like before. Have we really no better use for materials and for human skill and time than to spend them on all this rubbish?
- The nuisance. For after all, during the racket we still have all our ordinary and necessary shopping to do, and the racket trebles the labour of it.
C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock, pp. 304-305.
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