Godless, but not too religious about it

A prominent British politician chose to mark the Christmas holiday with a religious tweet. I know I’m going to hell for this, but my first thought was, “Ag no. Now you’ve gone and ruined it!”

It may seem a contradiction in terms to keep keep the Christ out of Christmas, but that is my inclination regarding what has now become an extremely secular holiday.

Personally, I was raised in a Christian tradition, but even my family has seen a comprehensive secularisation of our Christmas celebration. This has largely paralleled the Great Lapse, which occurred when my sister was confirmed, my mom decided her responsibilities were taken care of and we all, en masse, ceased going to church – never to return.

Church was boring us to tears, and we were going out of a sense of obligation to each other. The realisation that none of us was into the weekly, ceremonial component of the religion was a great relief to all of us, and the ritual was easily jettisoned.

Still, Christianity has some sweet festivals, so we deftly integrated them into our family’s calendar of events, shorn as much as possible of their actual Christianity.

Easter-egg hunts have remained a mainstay of childhood for the next generation. And of course Christmas, with all those expressions of love and generous exchanges of gifts. They occupy a special place in our hearts and our year planners, alongside Halloween, half-term and when Disney on Ice is on at The Dome.

Perhaps South African society will follow a similar path. We remain a country built upon Christian customs, but for many of us godless city heathens, those customs have become secularised, commercialised and indeed customised to our personal lifestyles.

I cannot speak for other religions, though I have paid lobola at a Spur and had an atheist invite me to get Muslim married in a cocktail bar.

I have also taken my child to see the Christmas lights at Melrose Arch, where we had a whale of a time, posing for selfies next to Santa installations alongside a posse of giggling teenagers wearing hijabs. 

I’ve been privileged to have been invited for Shabbat dinner. I did a spiritual clearing when I moved into my new flat.

My daughter’s predominantly Muslim play school gave her an excellent grounding, and she emerged with few cultural take-aways beyond a general awareness that you get Muslim people, you get Hindu people, and you get Christian people. 

“We don’t believe in god,” is what she’s learnt to say if the whole religion thing ever comes up. 

But it seldom does, in our circles. I would venture that South Africa’s secular urban culture has appropriated religious festivals and occasions for their positive values and social connotations, without the dogma or the metaphysics.

This may indeed represent the collapse of spirituality in the godless city. But in another way I see the new secularism as a form of ambivalence. We do not reject any particular religion, we simply reject the exclusive adherence to anything.

In this version of godlessness, even atheism seems a bit too categorical, too fundamentalist. 

After all, religion can be cool, as long as you don’t get too religious about it.

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