Last week, The Living Water School went to see the Christmas lights at Brookside Gardens. As the school parents and I walked together, we began discussing the origins of Christmas and its significance within the Black community. DuBois was so accurate when he spoke about our “double consciousness.” Every year, as I embrace the joy and magic of Christmas, there are conflicting thoughts that tug at my heart. I think of my ancestors, who, for only this time of year, might have enjoyed a brief reprieve from the grueling labor in the fields—if their master was “kind” enough. But that reprieve was followed by the dread of New Year’s, when they feared being sold away from their families. I think about the Western origins of Christmas, created by an emperor seeking to win political favor from the growing Christian faith. I also reflect on how Christmas has been “whitewashed” with images of Santa Claus, a European Mary and Joseph, shepherds, and wise men—despite the fact that Jesus was born in the Middle East and later lived in Egypt to escape King Herod’s wrath. The American version of Christmas doesn’t reflect the scriptural narrative, my heritage, or that of any person of color. It doesn’t even align with when Jesus was likely born—in the spring. And though Jesus was Jewish, the way America depicts him makes him appear as if he were from Europe. So, how do I reconcile celebrating Christmas knowing the mythological nature of the Western narrative?
I do not celebrate Christmas because I am unaware of its complexities. I celebrate it because it opens a door for me to share the gospel of Christ with the world. Christmas is one of the rare times in the American calendar when we can sing songs like “O Holy Night” or “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!” Through my Christmas decorations—whether it’s the red ribbons symbolizing Christ’s blood, the green garlands representing eternal life, the lights reflecting Christ’s pure light, or the gifts exchanged representing God’s ultimate gift of love—I have the opportunity to share the beautiful truth of a faith that offers the only God who gave His life for humanity.
As an American, I am reminded daily of our painful history, even as we celebrate holidays that often mask that reality. But instead of dwelling on that pain, I choose to turn what was meant for evil into something good. Whether I’m celebrating Christmas, which mixes up Jesus’ actual birthdate and also evokes painful memories of my ancestors fearing the loss of loved ones to the auction block on New Year’s, or celebrating Independence Day, which did not include the freedom of my ancestors, every holiday I observe is an opportunity to face the truth of my history and share a faith that has carried me and my ancestors through the darkest times. When I think of the enslaved person who wrote “Sweet Little Jesus Boy” and sang, “The world treat me mean, Lord, treat you mean too…” I think of my ancestors finding comfort in Christ’s suffering—born in a barn with no room at the inn, destined to die a painful death for the sins of the world. They found solace in a God who, like them, suffered. From this understanding, the Black church was born, alongside the Civil Rights Movement and the many ways my ancestors contributed—just as much as anyone else—to making this country a more perfect union.
I celebrate Thanksgiving, July 4th, Christmas, and every holiday this country offers because each one carries a story of how my ancestors survived, progressed, and fought to be woven into the fabric of America. As the children of Israel journeyed to the Promised Land, they established “markers of remembrance” along the way so that each generation could recall their story. Sometimes, these markers were tied to painful memories, yet they still chose to remember, ensuring that the story of how they overcame would never be forgotten. These holidays serve as a time to REMEMBER and CELEBRATE our own story of survival and progress. When I reflect on these stories, I don’t feel anger or bitterness; instead, I feel a deep pride in my ancestors and the country they helped shape. A country that once sought to erase my heritage is now a place where my people are rewriting the narrative—one that celebrates our perseverance, bravery, courage, suffering, victory, love, sacrifice, and strength. Denying ourselves this history would prevent us from understanding our unique place in the world. Merry Christmas to everyone—may the magic of Christmas go beyond the twinkling lights, presents, and holiday comforts, and remind us of the universal story of Christmas, where human suffering often gives birth to gifts of love that can uplift the world.
Dr. Anika T. Prather 