There are many things about Christmas that irk me – mostly financial. It seems to me that money is often an acid that erodes real connection. Gifts. They’re meant to create closeness, to show the people that we love – and some we don’t – that we are glad they are in our lives. The reasons for this vary from, we do actually care about them to well, they’re our boss and so it’s absolutely politic to show some sort of gratitude. There are so many ways that Christmas is about keeping up appearances rather than peeking behind the facades; it’s not a time of truth, but one of concealment. We hide our true selves behind the wrapping paper and the indulgent banquet. We drink too much. We eat too much. We smile too much. And when it’s all over, we’re glad. Bah humbug!
And yet, there’s something that can melt even my cynical heart – Christmas Carols. Hmmm, let me be more specific here. I’m not talking about false festive cheer that is piped through shopping centres and even in Dili, supermarkets, reminding people of their obligation to spend, spend, spend! I’m talking carols by candlelight with live singers and all the inherent mishaps that happen in reality as opposed to pre-taped, pre-edited footage.
On Friday night we were treated to the beautiful voices of the Dili Choir. About one hundred and fifty adults and about fifty children gathered at the Caz Bar. Though the excitement was too much for one little Timorese boy who slept through the entire evening, most of the children listened with delight. They even joined in on Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. Adults of all vocal skills sang to fill their hearts with festive cheer – both emotional and alcoholic.
The thing that gets me about Christmas Carols is that it doesn’t matter where I am or who I’m with, they take me to a place of pure humanity. The effect is not reserved for me alone. Everyone seems a little softer, a little more approachable, a little less inhibited about belting out a tune when they’re usually so self-conscious about being ‘pitchy’.
In earshot of a singing choir, all my Christmases seem to meld together and the really strange thing is that even though I can see the flaws in each scenario, what I feel the most is warmth. And so it was on Friday night. What passed through my mind was a montage of trees, tinsel, baubles, presents – both received and given – food and faces. Of course there were the awkward moments, the undercurrents of suppressed animosity, the scowls and snippy remarks of barely disguised unrest. All of these images appeared then wafted away. I realised then, that for me Christmas isn’t about merchandise or whose Christmas light display is able to light a not-so-small nation. It’s about hope.
More than anything Christmas brings the gift of possibility. We can hold a box, its true identity concealed by cheery prints with reindeer, santas, holly, ivy, Christmas trees, candles or a selection of innumerable festive icons. The content of the box is a mystery to us. It could be anything. In that moment before we tear off the paper and remove all doubt, there’s hope. As we breathe deeply and let our notes, tuneful or not, fly freely into the crowd, we imagine we are truly a part of something greater than ourselves; and there’s comfort in that. Knowing we can tap into the human collective allows us to dream of all that might be possible. We can watch small children shimmy up a pole – no safety harnesses, no mattresses to soften any falls and be reminded of our own times of fearlessness. Oh what we can do when we forget to be afraid – or better yet, never develop the fears which extinguish hope and possibility.
Christmas can be a magical time; a time when, even for cynical adults, fears are replaced by possibility and hope; a time when even a one-eyed dog in Dili can snuffle his way through a crowd, sniffing out enough food scraps to sate his hunger and perhaps even a spare hand to offer an affectionate pat. Hope your Christmas brings real connection to loved ones, the world at large, and most importantly, to your own dreams. May the sparkle of tinsel, baubles and Christmas lights blind your fears and make anything possible.
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