I am full of contradictions. I love to celebrate Christmas. I am a traditionalist. I dislike it when people say Happy Holidays, write “Xmas” or refer to St Stephen’s Day as Boxing Day. And yet I hardly think of Christ. I don’t think that Jesus was the son of God. I don’t believe in a personal God who intervenes in this world. And, yet, I think I am as religious as the next person.
For me, what makes Christmas religious, and what makes thousands of similar festivals around the world religious, is that regardless of their specific beliefs, people come together to celebrate the mystery and beauty of life. Religion begins with mystery and ritual.
Like many others, I have no idea why we are here. Why there is something rather than nothing? How, after billions of years, has life on earth come to be the way it is? Despite what seems like enormous progress, I don’t think science will ever answer these questions.
Celebrating the mystery and beauty of life is part and parcel of being human. Ever since we became self-conscious, we have wondered about the meaning of life and what it is to live a good life. But whatever the answer, we seem to have realised that our survival depends on us coming together.
We need to create and sustain a collective consciousness. We do this through language and symbols, by engaging in rituals, through music, art, praying, chanting and dancing. This, for me, is the core of being religious. It is what we do at Christmas.
My hope is that the sense of belonging to a cosmic whole of which we are just an infinitesimal part will help us realise that it is collective and not individual salvation that is central to the survival of our species
Midwinter festivals seem to have always played a role in human society. This began to change around 3,000 years ago. What was local, flexible and dynamic became institutionalised. A cadre of priests and theologians began to emerge. They gave definitive answers to the meaning of life and defined how to live a good life.
But the transition to institutionalisation was not smooth. In Ancient Judea, the field was volatile. Prophets emerged who resisted and challenged the new institutional regimes. Jesus was one of these. His success was meteoric. But over the next 2,000 years, his teachings and exemplary lifestyle became institutionalised into what is now the most rigid, hierarchical regime of religion ever developed.
In Ireland, the institutionalisation of religion reached its zenith in the first half of the last century. During the last 200 years, being religious became highly orthodox and legalistic.
However, in the last 50 years, all that was solid about the Church has begun to melt into air. Where once there was orthodoxy and certainty, there is now doubt and ambiguity. There is no longer a need to obey and believe. And so now, while Christ may no longer be central to Christmas for many, numerous rituals that brought people together over the years have survived.
Of course, Christmas has become commercialised and, in many respects, profane. It is an inevitable consequence of living in a capitalist society. It has become hedonistic. If January is about self-control, Christmas is about letting go.
But I think there is something else going on. I think Christmas is about taking time out, about recognising that whatever meaning there is to life, it does not come from money, power and control. It comes through each other. In a cosmopolitan society, we cannot come together if we are dogmatic. We need to be humble, to accept our ignorance about the meaning of life. We need to be compassionate and accepting of each other and our differences.
And, so, on Christmas Day, when people gather with family and friends, what they believe about Christ will largely be irrelevant. They will try to be virtuous, to love each other and to reach out to those who are poor, vulnerable and excluded. They will, in effect, try to be good Christians without mentioning Christ.
If Christmas is about regenerating a sense of belonging, of collective consciousness, it is also about mystery and magic. We pass on a belief in Santa to our children. It is a recognition of how little we know about the world in which we live. It is as awesome as it is unpredictable.
We live in hope. My hope is that the sense of belonging to a cosmic whole of which we are just an infinitesimal part will help us realise that it is collective and not individual salvation that is central to the survival of our species.
The religious challenge in this era of human domination – the Anthropocene age – is to find ways of transcending the colonisation of our souls by the market and the media. We need to be mindful and reverential not just towards each other, but to other species. One wonders if it is possible for a new prophet to emerge and lead us to ecological salvation.
Tom Inglis is Professor Emeritus of Sociology at University College Dublin and author of Unbecoming Catholic: Being Religious in Contemporary Ireland which will be published by Peter Lang in Spring, 2025.
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