Confessions of a Reformed ‘Grinch’

Last week, I found myself in a place most WinCity Voices read­ers would not expect from some­one like me. I was at Central Baptist Church for their Christmastime choir per­for­mance. One of the most trea­sured peo­ple in my life, my step­mom Patti, had invit­ed me as she had the pre­vi­ous year. Because this is some­thing very spe­cial to her, I agreed to go despite not being a very “Christmasy” kind of person.

Freedom of and from Religion is impor­tant to me. While there are an abun­dance of edge lord athe­ists who are ready to decry a whiff of spir­i­tu­al­i­ty, I am not that kind of per­son. There is rev­er­ence, mean­ing, and peace to be found in all aspects of life. I would nev­er want to dimin­ish the foun­da­tions of some­one else’s hope or sense of com­mu­ni­ty in any way. While there is plen­ty about the acolytes of Southern Baptist doc­trine that deserves the harsh light of crit­i­cism, this is not about that. This is about Christmas and my family.

My step­mom has been a hard work­er her entire life. She works hard, plays hard­er, and loves hard­est. Whether it’s in the office or on stage, she gives 100% to the peo­ple in her life. I’ve seen her play a whole cast of dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters, per­form in choirs, and cho­rus lines through­out my child­hood, and she is incred­i­bly tal­ent­ed. I don’t always go to church per­for­mances, but it’s Christmas, and it was impor­tant to her. We don’t always agree on every­thing, but we love each oth­er, and we love our big, weird, blend­ed family.

This con­cert was unique in that I felt not only from her, but from every­one per­form­ing, a sense of how much they val­ued what they were doing. They chose to be there in that moment, with each oth­er, and to share some­thing beau­ti­ful they had cre­at­ed together. 

I’ll be hon­est; I didn’t enjoy the ser­mon, and I don’t real­ly care for a lot of Christian con­tem­po­rary music. But it wasn’t the arrange­ments or the well-timed lights, or the very long-wind­ed preach­er, that sold me on the show: it was the pure feel­ing of imme­di­ate togeth­er­ness. It was what Hallmark screen­writ­ers like to call “the Christmas Spirit.” Truly, it is a feel­ing of light­ness, an almost annoy­ing sense of opti­mism that stems from the col­lec­tive sigh of being able to enjoy a peace­ful after­noon of fa-la-la-la-las and hand bells undis­turbed by the world out­side those large wood­en doors.

I do not belong to any church, and I do not hold beliefs in the same way that church­go­ers do. Many folks with reli­gious trau­ma nev­er want to return to any church, and for good rea­son. I would even wager that a num­ber of the peo­ple I saw smil­ing and nod­ding to the music have active­ly vot­ed to elim­i­nate all trace of peo­ple like me from the face of the earth. Yet there was an unde­ni­able feel­ing of uni­ty in the build­ing from the first note sung.

I felt imme­di­ate pride for my step­mom. I felt hap­py that she had a place to feel what she felt with­out shame, with­out misog­y­ny, with­out prej­u­dice. My fam­i­ly expe­ri­enced a series of recent years filled with change, loss, and grief, so cel­e­brat­ing this moment felt deeply impor­tant. I felt hon­ored to be in the audi­ence as so many per­form­ers took the stage to share what was most impor­tant to them. I felt part of the col­lec­tive, offer­ing peace on Earth and good tid­ings. This sea­son has the pow­er of love as long as we look for it in our­selves and others.

That is what I’m fill­ing the prover­bial stock­ing with this year. Even if I don’t agree with every­one in the pew, I want to find ways to build rela­tion­ships in my com­mu­ni­ty, hon­or my fam­i­ly, and respect those who may not see eye to eye, yet offer no imme­di­ate threat. This may be the only way to address the mas­sive cul­tur­al divide in the United States—the way to pull peo­ple back from the brink.

Not in attend­ing a church ser­vice per se, but just being open to one another’s inter­ests and sup­port­ing local artis­tic expres­sion in many forms. Whether it be com­pla­cen­cy in big­otry, inter­nal­ized misog­y­ny, or cul­tur­al iso­la­tion, we must do bet­ter for our com­mu­ni­ty because there are so many out there fac­ing con­fu­sion and stress every sin­gle day. 

Emulate, adapt, and lead the con­ver­sa­tion with kind­ness when­ev­er it is safe to do so. We must find ways to build each oth­er up, even if we don’t agree 100% on every­thing. I say this not about dan­ger­ous fam­i­ly mem­bers who deserve a no-con­tact ulti­ma­tum, but about those with whom you have enough in com­mon that they can see your respect and meet you on even foot­ing. Trust is not built swift­ly, and com­pro­mise involves giv­ing a little. 

What great gifts to begin unwrap­ping this hol­i­day season!

Having lived all over the coun­try, I can say that Kentucky has a unique way of build­ing bridges social­ly. Among the con­gre­ga­tion that day, I rec­og­nized teach­ers, local work­ers, city employ­ees, and neigh­bors. These are neigh­bors who help each oth­er when the gov­ern­ment can’t be both­ered. Folks down the road who will emp­ty their cup­boards for folks they have nev­er met. Parishioners who offer to take the baby so a young moth­er can have a moment’s rest. 

I respect the way those small ges­tures add up. The sense of giv­ing and doing what is right—right here— is a big rea­son I moved home in the first place. My fam­i­ly taught me that all four of my par­ents and step-par­ents made sure that see­ing the human being first was a part of how I was raised.

We should strive to human­ize one anoth­er, respect that we are all on this ever-chang­ing rock, and treat that under­stand­ing with care. To me, that is what Christmas should be. Not big gifts, nor expen­sive ges­tures, nor fight­ing with your racist uncle in front of Memaw will feel as good as bond­ing with folks you want in your life. So in this new year, I hope for expe­ri­ences that may seem out of the ordinary. 

With a grain of salt and healthy bound­aries, I ten­der my res­ig­na­tion from Grinch-dom.