Response to Rabbi's Letter

I struggled to feel the holiday spirit during the break this year. When I got off the plane, the captain announced over the intercom: “Merry Christmas! Thank you for flying with American Airlines.” I cringed, correcting it to “Happy Holidays” in my head. The Philadelphia International Airport was strewn with red and green ribbons and streamers; the speakers played “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.” In years past, Christmas decorations and music had activated my Christmas cheer, but not this time. Guilt and wariness for non-Christians replaced festive warmth and joy.

In her letter published in The Exonian back in December, Rabbi Marx-Asch discussed how other faiths—in particular, the Jewish faith—had been underrepresented in the decorations around campus. She stated: “What may feel merely ‘seasonal’ to some may feel too ‘Christmas-y’ to others.”

As a Catholic, I don’t share the same faith as many Exonians. I am cognizant of how the Christmas decorations I connect to are foreign and unwelcoming to others. I live in Exeter, where one must jump from their perspective to the perspectives of others and be wary of to whom one says, “Merry Christmas” and to whom one says, “Happy Holidays.” 

Although I am Christian, I grew up celebrating Passover seder and Hanukkah seder with my dad’s parents. I learned to respect both faiths even as my Jewish grandfather joked about how “Jesus could not have possibly existed.” With this background, I took the mutual respect between these two faiths for granted and saw no inherent wrong in celebrating the one I identified with. 

Holidays used to be a time for enjoying one’s own take on the world, religion included. In her previous article, Rabbi spoke of her struggle celebrating Hanukkah: the excessive Christmas decorations prevented her from enjoying her faith. I have spoken with my Jewish friends about this and they more or less share her sentiment. In sympathy, I thus found myself criticizing the Christmas decorations that I once found solace in, and began to feel guilty about the joy and cheer of the season. I now feel guilty for my traditions and my faith. 

Does it have to be this way? I agree with Rabbi in that we must have more discussions about these issues, but in retrospect, I have found these discussions to have their shortcomings. 

I think that the incident with Christmas decorations is part of a greater issue I’ve noticed throughout my time at Exeter: again and again, I have found majority groups to be portrayed in a negative light. In theory, our countless discussions of identity are meant to open the floor for all voices. I feel excluded from these because I cannot possibly complain, given my white-Asian-Christian privilege––right? My guilt prevents me from entering these conversations. One time in English class, I unintentionally spoke at the same time as a peer. I then offered for her to go ahead, to which she responded sarcastically: “No it’s fine. I love being talked over.” In more serious conversations, I now refrain from contributing so that I don’t silence minority groups.

To be completely honest, I have never entered a difficult conversation with someone who had different views than me. I think that a lot of this is because of a lack of courage: I fear being labelled as ignorant for not “getting it.” I don’t think that people are actively excluding me, a member of the majority, but I nonetheless experience a numbing sense of discomfort. 

Is this, after all, how it should be? Are there any benefits to not having the voice of the privileged majority? Shouldn’t the white, Christian man have a chance to experience what minority groups have faced for hundreds of years? 

I don’t think so. “Getting even” against the oppressor is no better than becoming the oppressor. As Rabbi stated, Exeter can do a better job of fostering an inclusive community for all faiths. A one-sided monologue driven solely by minority voices is not the answer. 

I recall an assembly last year when The New Yorker staff writer Jelani Cobb compared this one-sided conversation with boxing. Punching a punching bag is a whole lot different from fighting in the ring. The fighting aspect of the analogy should be omitted because these discussions need to be constructive, but it does show that discourse with similar views does nothing but widen the growing perspective gap. I fear that division of views could lead to labelling the Christian faith as the perpetrator of non-Christian suffering. In fact, I sometimes already feel that way. 

Ultimately, we must move beyond a binary system of good and evil. The suffering of one group does not necessitate the blaming of another. Real, inclusive discussion about controversial topics will be hard for all, but in order to build any lasting change the next time holidays come around, as Rabbi said, we need to work together. Members of the majority like myself need to take courage and face the discomfort. It is hard to overcome the feeling of guilt. But when we do, I hope minority groups will also listen.