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Merry Christmas.
Oops. I apologize if you were insulted by my dominant-culture mentality. I meant to say …
Happy Holidays.
Sorry. That phrase is now perceived by Christians as de-emphasizing the religious nature of their celebration, reducing it to a mere secular gift exchange. Instead, let’s try …
Season’s Greetings.
Except that might be interpreted as a commemoration of the winter solstice, which would be OK for pagans, Wiccans and astronomers, but could be considered a slight to other faiths.
Peace on Earth.
Implications of bias against the Bush administration’s policy in Iraq.
Goodwill to Men.
Sexist.
Joy to the World.
I’d have to add a disclaimer stating the sender of this wish was not responsible for the consequences of global exuberance, including riots, explosions and endless broadcasts of “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
Happy Hanukah.
No problem if the person being addressed is lighting a menorah and carrying a dreidel. In other situations, you run the risk of insulting somebody who just happens to like wearing a beanie and long sidelocks. You’re also not supposed to stereotype African-Americans by telling them to have a swell Kwanzaa. And trying to figure out acceptable greetings for Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Confucians or Unitarian-Universalists goes beyond the limited knowledge I retain from the college course in comparative religion I rarely attended.
The lack of a suitable salutation means I may not be able to greet another human being until at least Martin Luther King Day for fear of offending some obscure sensibility. All the conventional expressions fail either the political-correctness test or the religious-intolerance inquisition, and I can’t very well wander around shouting, “I apologize for my white, Euro-centric world view, but I live in Maine, where we have a long tradition of insensitivity to customs other than our own. Have a lobster and an autographed photo of Michael Heath.”
I can’t even send out cards, since all those on sale contain one element or another certain to offend somebody. Atheists wouldn’t want to receive pictures of a babe wrapped in swaddling cloth. Fundamentalists would have a fit if they opened their envelopes to find a Christmas tree, a leftover from Germanic barbarians. Drawings of brightly wrapped presents only serve to remind the spiritual of the commercialization of the holiday. And pictures of snow-covered pines ignore the festive customs of places where the temperature never drops below freezing and the only large vegetation is cacti.
Eliminating all those slights doesn’t leave much. I considered having some plain cards printed that read, “At this time of the year, I welcome the opportunity to acknowledge your existence.” But then, I heard about a sect whose members don’t believe they exist.
It gets even more complicated if you make the mistake of mentioning God in a public place. Brunswick firefighters recently raised funds for a memorial to be placed near a new substation. It included something called “A Fireman’s Prayer,” which, as many prayers do, makes reference to the deity. That prompted a few American Civil Liberties Union types to complain that this simple invocation amounted to government sanctioning of religion. Which, in turn, caused a few religious fanatics to claim that any change in the memorial amounted to an endorsement of demonic cults and same-sex marriage. In the end, the Brunswick Town Council opted to allow the poem, which can be scored as either a victory for common sense or an endorsement of bad poetry.
Because “A Fireman’s Prayer” is no “Song of Solomon.” For one thing, there’s no sex. For another, it’s filled with cadence-challenged verses, such as this: “I want to fill my calling and to/Give the best in me,/To guard my every neighbor/And protect his property.”
Considering the memorial cost the firefighters $12,000, it might have been worth their while to spend a few extra bucks to commission some rhyming couplets from somebody with a talent for something besides putting out fires. Such a poem, while it still might run afoul of atheists and acolytes, would at least have the virtue of not being compared unfavorably with the limerick “There was a young man from Nantucket.”
I think I could do that well. I might even be able to bridge the cultural divide over public outbursts of religiosity. So, in the interest of promoting harmony in this season of good cheer (unless your particular faith is inclined toward disharmony and holds cheerfulness to be little more than the anticipation of sin), I’ve prepared this example of an all-purpose ode that could be placed next to any holiday display on municipal property:
How thankful we are to live in beauteous [insert the name of your city or town here],
Where every season is filled with blessings like [insert a blessing that rhymes with the name of your city or town here].
The white of winter, the spring’s dull brown,
Make our minds a little unsound.
The green of summer and autumn’s orange
Fill our souls with lots of [insert a word that rhymes with orange here].
We’re so thankful to live in this wondrous place,
Where we don’t discriminate based on sex, creed or race.
We’d thank God for our big-box stores and gridlocked avenue,
But that would just annoy the ACLU.
We’d thank Darwin, Adam Smith or some similar colleague,
But that would infuriate the Christian Civic League.
In this season some know as Yule,
We’ve come to accept just one little rule.
No matter who deserves thanks for this handiwork,
When someone greets you with glad heart, don’t be a jerk.
They wish you no offense, no pain or ill will,
So take a cue from the weather: Just be cool and chill.
Al Diamon, whose column on odd topics appears monthly, is taking an awful chance by wishing you a happy new year. You can convey your outrage by e-mailing him at ishmaelia@gwi.net.
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