Dangerous and Disgusting Habits

I used to have little patience for all the self-righteous naysayers who lamented too much Christmas too soon, and while I still subscribe to the idea of to each his own, I’m noticing my own affinities are shifting. Too much of a good thing, too soon, can often bring disappointment or even emptiness.

Even I was a little dismayed, then, to read today’s WSJ’s article, "It Must Be October in Britain Because the Beans Taste Like Christmas." The lead picture shows stars hanging like snowflakes as Christmas decorations were being installed on Oxford Street in London earlier this month. Discussing the “Christmas Creep,” the authors note: “When Liberty announced it was kicking off Christmas in August, things got a bit spicy on its Instagram account. ‘It’s August?! This is how retail has utterly wrecked the magic of the Holiday Season. How can it be special when it drags on for months?’ wrote one commenter. She was quickly accused by another commenter of being a grinch.”

In a comment left on the WSJ article, Francis Reich writes: “Just as bad as starting Christmas in October is seeing everything disappear by January 1. Let the season linger a little, at least through the traditional 12th day of Christmas.” Hear, hear!

Of course G.K. Chesterton has something to add to our discussion. Here’s his whole paragraph since I’d hate to shorten his hyperbolic fun:

There is no more dangerous or disgusting habit than that of celebrating Christmas before it comes, as I am doing in this article. It is the very essence of a festival that it breaks upon one brilliantly and abruptly, that at one moment the great day is not and the next moment the great day is. Up to a certain specific instant you are feeling ordinary and sad; for it is only Wednesday. At the next moment your heart leaps up and your soul and body dance together like lovers; for in one burst and blaze it has become Thursday. I am assuming (of course) that you are a worshipper of Thor, and that you celebrate his day once a week, possibly with human sacrifice. If, on the other hand, you are a modern Christian Englishman, you hail (of course) with the same explosion of gaiety the appearance of the English Sunday. But I say that whatever the day is that is to you festive or symbolic, it is essential that there should be a quite clear black line between it and the time going before. And all the old wholesome customs in connection with Christmas were to the effect that one should not touch or see or know or speak of something before the actual coming of Christmas Day. Thus, for instance, children were never given their presents until the actual coming of the appointed hour. The presents were kept tied up in brown-paper parcels, out of which an arm of a doll or the leg of a donkey sometimes accidentally stuck. I wish this principle were adopted in respect of modern Christmas ceremonies and publications.

I find myself wanting to help delineate that clear black line more and more. I want to be in the present; I want to celebrate the days and the seasons: St. Simon and St. Jude, St. Andrew the Apostle, All Saints’ and All Souls’, Thanksgiving, Advent, Christmas and the 12 Days of Christmastide… Savoring the moment. How many times have we heard that, said that? Maybe this year will be different.