‘Timely thoughts on Christmas’ by Margaret C McNeill, from December 21, 1973
‘The impossible that yet is.’
I love Christmas – including all the trappings that I vaguely feel are unQuakerly. I love carols and candles and Christmas trees; the giving and receiving of tokens of good will and remembrance; the conviviality of a good Christmas dinner. Yet I imagine I am by no means alone in feeling that the celebration of Christmas is becoming increasingly a perplexing and burdensome problem. Commercialisation has turned the spontaneous enjoyment of a holiday into a distasteful exploitation of material indulgence, and in a world where hunger and deprivation and injustice exist alongside material plenty, the contrast of the Christmas spending spree to the origin of the festival becomes more and more outrageous.
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