For many years I struggled with myself, questioning if I was right in how I felt about Christmas. Raised in Saratoga Springs, New York, my family and I attended a small presbyterian church. I was baptized when I was an infant, and throughout my younger years, I had always considered myself a Christian.
Growing up playing travel sports, hockey and lacrosse, our family’s weekends consisted of traveling state to state to play in this or that tournament filled with back to back games. Along with my sisters, big into their sports, our time on the weekends was mostly spent in the back of a minivan, a hotel, or in the rink or on the field. So when Sunday came around, we often still had games early in the morning and all day long, or we had to travel back home all day. We never really considered church to be of that much importance, because I mean, simply put, we were still Christians at heart, that’s what mattered right?
Throughout the years, I have questioned my faith many times and have concluded the same thing time and time again. My family is christian, but I am not. I do not know what I am, simply, and to some, that may seem scary. At some points, I believed I was atheist, then I’d find a touch back to Christianity, then I’d be slightly agnostic. I did not know how to cope with these feelings, especially around Christmas time.
Any time a prayer was said, I felt an awful guilt sweep over me. I held the hands of my family and friends, reciting a prayer, head bowed down, knowing to myself that I was a liar, a big fib. I came to the realization that this, this is not how I should feel around my friends, my family, my closest of people, especially around Christmas.I felt like the black sheep when I heard of family and friends going to church on Christmas eve and almost every Sunday of their lives.
Into my teens, and early twenty now, the pressure seemed more real. I couldn’t help but doubt myself every time I was in contact with those of faith. It was a lot of pressure building up, with everything going on in the news, the religious attacks and slander, I was afraid to admit it, afraid to admit how I felt, who I was, what made me, me.
This year, my dad looked at me at the dinner table and asked me to lead a prayer. I looked at him, cold-eyed, and said that I can’t. I had told him last year on Christmas that I did not know if I truly believed in god, probably the hardest thing I could’ve said to my father who was raised catholic. When I said I would not lead the prayer at the dinner table, consisting of simply five us, only five of us, he looked disappointed.
Later on, this Christmas, since there was barely any snow in Connecticut where we were visiting, we went out to the bonfire and we all had some drinks, and us boys had cigars. We talked about life, the world, and eventually, everyone retreated inside besides, of course, my father and I.
One thing led to another and we were eventually talking about faith. I told him I felt uncomfortable leading a prayer at the table yesterday. “Dad, you know how I feel, why would you ask me to do that?” “Well,” he said, “Brandon, I know you don’t consider yourself a Christian anymore, but you’re going to have to do this in life, you’re going to have to lead your family and friends in times, and you’re especially going to have to figure out something to say.” To that, I responded, “But it’s not going to be towards god, it is not going to be religious dad, you know that right?” “Yes,” he said, “but, what is important, is praying for your family and friends, for their health, and being grateful for what you have and the health and spirits of those around you, directed at god or not, maybe you direct it to your own head, that’s what you’re going to have to do, it’s only right.”
With that, I sat back and relaxed in my chair, I had never really thought of saying a prayer that way. Hoping and praying to myself, for my family and friends, for their health and mine, for all we are thankful for. I truly believe in the goodness between people, the interconnectivity that binds us all together, I simply choose to believe in other things, but I had never been able to really be confident enough in my own body and mind to accept or express that.
Before that, my brother-in-law had also mentioned that our generation cannot be the ones to be scared of telling the truth. “If you’re gonna write,” he said, “you cannot be afraid to tell the truth, how you feel, how you see it, what happens in your life.”
Well, here I am. Though Christmas is a very important day to the faith of Christianity, it symbolizes a lot more to me than just the story in the bible. Now, I have no problem with the Christian faith at all or any faith at all for that reason. But, I choose to celebrate Christmas, because my family celebrates Christmas, and well, it’s important for me to have one time in the year when we forget about everything, come together, and celebrate us. We celebrate Christmas, reflecting on our past struggles and accomplishments, but most of all, to remind each other, that we are still there, loved and loving.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that for the rest of you out there who may feel like me, it’s okay. Don’t be afraid, be confident, your voice will be heard. And to those Christians, and those of other faiths, do not shoot down those who are not on your team, for in that situation, no one wins. With all this hate in the world today, I just wanted to share that though I may not know if I believe in a god or not, I still believe in the kindness between people, and the true meaning of Christmas I’ve felt since the very start, love. And for those of you who think what I am saying is wrong, well, I guess I am never going to be your right, but I hope that’s alright.
Just something to think about,
Brandon Dean
