Stores Save The Holiday For Craftless
Rush-hour traffic fell still in Manhattan last Thursday for an unusual reason: window shopping.
Passers-by crowded around window displays at Saks Fifth Avenue, FAO Schwartz and other retail stores. The sights of sleighs and elves and fake snow and presents so beguiled pedestrians that they risked their lives just to see. The throng packed the sidewalks and spilled onto the bustling streets and avenues.
What delicious cacophony! Car horns screamed their objections so rapidly and repeatedly that it sounded almost like a shrill drum roll. (The proper definition of a “New York minute” is the interval that transpires between a light’s turning green and motorists’ honking their horns. Scientists also call this unit of time a nanosecond.)
Meanwhile, Salvation Army volunteers pumped bells. Marines stood at starchy attention beside vats filled with Toys for Tots. And every once in a while, a strain of some old carol would drift through the chaos, almost like a little wisp of smoke: It would swirl quickly through the crowd, then fly away.
This kind of spectacle often inspires humbugs to complain that we have sacrificed our souls in the pursuit of cheesy lucre, and that society can regain a proper appreciation of Christmas only by restoring older American traditions of commemorating Christ’s birth with spare, somber ceremonies.
Latter-day puritans find pleasure in pain - or at least in unpleasant, conspicuous virtue - and thus urge us to surrender things we love, from popcorn to holiday shopping. More often than not, these crusades celebrate myths and reject facts.
The first Christmas, for instance, was a commercial affair of sorts. Three Magi made their way from the East to hand gifts to the holy child. They distributed gold, frankincense and, for some reason, an embalming substance known as myrrh. (This is the first known instance of a completely inappropriate but heartfelt present on the holiday.)
The Three Wise Men live in lore because they gave. If one tradition sets Christmas apart from other (Christian) celebrations, it is the focus on giving to family, friends and even strangers. While some of the New York shoppers pressed their faces to the glass to see something they wanted to receive, most of us get our jollies at Christmas by selecting presents for others.
This has not always involved a trip to the mall. Once upon a time, families exchanged goods crafted with their own hands. Some still do. But we live in an advanced industrial society characterized by an extensive division of labor. Some people fix cars. Others program software. Still others make such things as furniture.
The point is: There are millions of people like me who have no measurable manual skills. If we make something for loved ones, we don’t fulfill their deepest desires. Instead, we test their affection for us.
I learned this lesson years ago, when I decided to build a nice box for my high-school girlfriend. I retreated each day to the garage and took up a saw and mitre box. I measured, cut, sanded, painted, polished and nailed for a solid week. I screwed on hinges for a lid. I ripped the thing apart several times and started over. I did my best.
And the final product looked like tornado debris. Nails peeped through the bottom and sides, and the still-sticky lacquer, evidently applied with excessive liberality, served as a final resting place for a collection of small insects and household lint.
More power to people who can craft gifts themselves. But the rest of us must purchase wares from folks who have skills we don’t possess. This requires a certain heroism of its own. We must swim through the human tide in malls and stores, fending off women bearing atomizers and salesmen who try to calculate our net worth as we glance in display cases.
Usually, our efforts work out fairly well. Our loved ones smile in appreciation, and we feel a tingle of virtue as the gifts change hands and the wrapping paper flies. Despite the Grinches and Santas and other secular characters, the holiday season retains a special kind of grandeur. It reminds us that we cannot live full and happy lives until we acknowledge higher powers and principles.
When humbugs complain about commercialization, they should remember that all religion begins with selflessness, and that there is no more selfless act than to give. When we buy stuff for others, we don’t just line a capitalist’s pockets. We also, in our own clumsy ways, tell someone else: I love you.
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