Falling Star

Artwork by Michael DiMilo

By Geoffrey Carter

During the past few weeks, I’ve heard more than a few people say that Christmas just doesn’t feel right this year. I think I know what they mean. My family and I have followed all our usual traditions—hanging the lights, trimming the tree, baking the cookies, and wrapping the presents. We’ve listened to our collections of carols, watched the TV specials, and drank our cups of cheer. But there still seems to be something missing.

At first, I figured it was the social aspects of the holiday that were lacking, but—personally—I have to say that I don’t really miss the crowds all that much. I know others live to shop, even during the holidays, but not me. The stress, the crowds, the pressure, and the rudeness of your average celebrant make me ordinarily want to stay home and curl up on the couch. Even Christmas Eve Mass at church gets crazy crowded. But still, it’s all part of the season.

A work friend told me she misses getting out of the house, especially during the holidays. I suppose that feeling of isolation is exacerbated at a time visiting friends and family is not only obligatory, but traditional. This is the only time of year some of us get to see the furthest inhabitants of the family tree. And now that’s gone, too. But I don’t think that’s what’s wrong with Christmas. 

It’s been an odd year, for sure. Maybe it’s appropriate that Christmas would follow suit. I guess part of me was hoping that the holiday might return some sense of normalcy to our lives, but—for me, at least—it didn’t turn out that way. It’s asking a lot because “normal” is no longer the norm for any of us. To expect one holiday, no matter how significant, to shift our cultural sensibilities one hundred and eighty degrees is unrealistic. And the truth is, our sensibilities have changed, too.

This past year has exposed us. We are not the people we thought we were—not even close. When the pandemic swept across the nation and forced us into quarantine to stem the rate of infection, a number of our countrymen refused to stay home, don masks, or avoid other risky behaviors. They said doing so violated their freedoms. Then our president first denied the virus’ existence, then denied its seriousness, and finally denied denying it in the first place. As a result of these selfish behaviors—at every level of our society—tens of thousands of people died unnecessarily. 

The coronavirus also exposed glaring inequities in our public health system. African Americans and other minorities suffered significantly higher Covid-19 infection and mortality rates than other groups. And although schools responded quickly to the quarantine, funding deficiencies in some schools meant long lines for poor children waiting to receive their necessary remote learning technology. 

The horrific street execution of George Floyd by members of the Minneapolis Police Department laid bare what has plagued this country for decades—institutional racism. It’s the elephant in the room. It’s here, it’s been here, and we all know it (whether we say so or not), but don’t want to talk about it. We’ve tolerated the police killings—the lynchings—for years, and we’d turned our backs on it. Until George Floyd. 

Unprecedented demonstrations and rioting followed the murder, and, as a sort of ricochet, the latent racism lying deep in the heart of American culture was exacerbated, aroused—and exposed. Part of this was due to Trump’s encouragement of The Proud Boys and other hate groups, but he was only inflaming the wound that was already there, the one that’s never healed. 

The refusal of our government to aid its unemployed citizens—especially when compared to the efforts of Canada and other civilized nations—is inexcusable, and their continued efforts to kill the Affordable Care Act in the midst of this pandemic are simply unconscionable. It exposes our Republican leaders for the mercenaries they are, especially hen considering their efforts to repress the vote during the last presidential election. The Republicans, and their ilk, keep getting richer. The rest of us keep getting screwed.

Maybe this is why Christmas celebrations ring so hollow this year. “Peace on Earth “and “Good Will Toward Men” sound like meaningless tripe in a nation where one class of citizens can denigrate and subjugate another so thoroughly and so callously. The events of this past year have exposed us for what we are, a nation that does not take care of its own people. Quite simply, we are hypocrites for celebrating a holiday that champions love, tolerance, and charity.  

The racism, the inequities, and the hate in this country are nothing new. The difference between this Christmas and the last is the realization of how blithely we can ignore the message of the season. The trappings don’t make the holiday. Neither do the lights nor the parties nor the presents. Our behaviors do. The reason it doesn’t seem like Christmas is because of us. Until we care about, and care for, our fellow human beings, we will not be good Christians, good Samaritans, or good people. 

This past week, the great conjunction, an astronomical phenomenon when Jupiter and Saturn reach their closest proximity, occurred in the night sky, resulting in what appeared to be one incredibly bright star. Considering the season, some were eager to compare this occurrence to the Star of Bethlehem, the Christmas miracle. 

Two planets converging hundreds of millions of miles from Earth is scientifically significant. It may also hold historical or religious importance, but it’s no miracle. It won’t change social behavior, government policy, or instill a sense of common human decency. It won’t bring peace on Earth. A star won’t do that. Neither will the Ghost of Christmas Past. Neither will pretty lights or a tree. We need to do it ourselves. It’s time to start living the Christmas spirit.