Blue Christmas

Another Christmas has come and gone…for many of you. I’m still waiting for Kris Kringle, Rudolf and Jack Frost to come ho-ho-ho-ing, glowing and tap-tap-tapping at my window.

It was appropriate that the holiday fell on the Sabbath, because Christmas is just another Sunday in the Kingdom of Tonga. Of course, the green and red flicker of holiday lights can be seen in one or two homes and a gift is exchanged here and there, but for the most part, the celebration of Christmas is relegated to the halls of church.

Having flashbacks to Linus’ speech on “what Christmas is all about,” in A Charlie Brown Christmas, I thought that maybe the Tongans had it right. So, instead of waking up to Christmas cookies and coffee with mom as we waited for the rest of the family to crawl out of bed, I arose and helped my neighbor to prepare the underground oven, which I do every Sunday. Then, it was off to church, where attendance was less than the normal capacity crowd in this Christian nation. Perhaps the heat kept them in their homes, as the cold and snow may have done to families in Pennsylvania.

After church, we indulged in our Sunday feast of lu—meat and coconut cream wrapped in taro (a spinach-type leaf)—and root crops. After eating, my Tongan dinner partners fell into their Sunday routine: resting before and after the 4 pm church service. I departed to spend the second half of my holiday with fellow volunteers. Christmas movies and a small gift exchange gave us a hint of our Western rituals, but as I laid down that night, listening to Elvis’ “Blue Christmas,” I pondered over questions like “is it worse to receive coal in one’s stocking, or no stocking at all?” and “what great wrong did I commit that despite joining Peace Corps, I ended up on Santa’s ‘naughty list’?”

Many contend that Christmas has lost its meaning in the lights, glitter and gifts of the season. We’re bombarded with Christmas music, Christmas sales, Christmas lights, Christmas trees and Christmas cookies. But, where’s Christmas Jesus? He spends his birthday in Tonga.
Risking coming off as heretical, I’ll argue with “the reason for the season.” Our diverse nation is comprised of individuals with different religious beliefs, denominations and varying levels of faith and importance placed on the spiritual. Yet, even for many of the faithless, Christmas is still a special time. That’s because a greater meaning of the holiday lies within music, the gift giving, the lights, trees and decoration. Their bonding powers on families have transcended the holiday from the religious. It is too magical a time to be thus confined.

Like the growing snowball that rolls down hills in Pennsylvania winter, the day has evolved into a season and has become too large for even the most towering basilica.

For those that decry that it’s a “Hallmark Holiday,” then praise be to Hallmark. Bring me the pomp and circumstance, fore within that is the magic that excites me each December. It warms me enough to tolerate the cold and snow. It inspires my giddiness on Christmas Eve. It causes the tickle in my stomach that calls me from bed at 6 am each Christmas morning. Its allure draws my family and friends home from places far and wide, from Florida to Chicago.

To call this a religious holiday is a misnomer. It’s mystical in its effects.

Economically, Tonga is classified as a developing nation. After my Tongan Christmas, I can confirm that the same status applies to their holiday celebration. Perhaps Rudolf’s nose can show them the way.