We all know Christmas is about love, sharing, and good times. We all know there are people out there suffering, alone and impoverished. So most of us make a special effort to make some sort of contribution to our favourite charity this time of year, not only to help others but also to give ourselves that good feeling that comes with being generous.
This year I wanted to teach my four-year-old niece a good habit of sharing with the less fortunate, and so I purchased a stuffy for her and an equivalent stuffy for her to put in the Santa’s Anonymous box. I explained to her that some children are alone and poor and because of her generosity, at least one child will wake up Christmas morning and find a cute Rudolph stuffy under her tree.
So we marched off to the mall and found an empty Santa’s Anonymous box. Eva was so excited about helping another child that she threw her own stuffy into the box instead of the intended one. I scream, “That’s the wrong one.” At which point, she bit her fingers and almost started to cry. That’s when her mom dove into the very large and empty box to retrieve Eva’s Rudolph so that Eva could throw the right one in.
As we walked away, a rather strange looking young woman glared at us and said in a haunting voice, “There’s no point teaching her how to be charitable because the world’s going to end on December 21st. Haven’t you heard?”
It seems the Mayan calendar has been misinterpreted by large masses of people to give the impression that doomsday is indeed this year on Dec. 21. In fact, the Mayan calendar points to the end of an era on this day, but not an apocalyptic ending. This misinterpretation occurred in the late sixties when scholars were confused by some Mayan hieroglyphs, which eluded their translation knowledge. A few new age writers picked up on the text bite and ran with it. Mass culture, such as movies and books, exaggerated the misunderstanding until it became common knowledge.
Back at the mall, we continued to embrace our festive shopping trip and partook of bubble gum ice cream and other treats before our long ride back home. In the long silence of the car, my little niece began playing once again with her own Rudolph stuffy and softly said to me, “There’s a little girl and a little boy with no mommy or daddy and on Christmas morning they will find their own Rudolph under their tree and they will be happy.”
I reminded everyone of the strange teenager at the mall and her prophecy about end times when Eva’s great-grandmother muttered, “Only God knows when the world will end.”
What a relief! Our fate does not lie in the imaginations of strung-out teenagers hanging out at the mall or by adults lost in the confusion of the new age era but rather our hope and love of others exists in the minds of babes who dream of sharing their toys with other children and in the hearts of great grandmothers who see through the dark clouds of confusion blinding our vision.
Hopefully the passing of Dec. 21, 2012 and the celebration of sharing on Dec. 25 will clear the air and reorient the masses to give in equal proportion to their own receiving.
Sharon Ryan lives in St. Albert and teaches ethics for UCLA Extension.
