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kyburgThink outside the big box: Carolers kicked out of stores
by Will Braun
Last Saturday I got kicked out of one mall and four big box stores - a Christmas shopping first for me. Twenty-five people and I, who probably go to church more often than the mall, were there to sing Christmas carols, evidently the kind that get people banished from the fluorescent premises of holiday madness.
Imagine standing in the checkout line at the local Super-Mega Deal-o-rama - in this case, in snowy Winnipeg, Canada - as a cheerful troupe of well-wishers march in the door singing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" - or no, wait...those aren't the traditional lyrics:
Slow down ye frantic shoppers for there's something we must say
If you would spare a moment all the stores would go away
Big business has been telling us what Christmas means today
Now it's time we decided for ourselves, for ourselves
Yes, it's time we decided for ourselves...
Our record was three full songs before being escorted out (in that case, politely). The opposition to our commercial sacrilege, however, did not come from shoppers. We might have been a fringe group oddly immune to public embarrassment, but shoppers didn't treat us that way. Many were curious, some indifferent, and a few responded as though they'd met a long-lost friend.
The Buy Nothing Christmas campaign, the impetus for our singing spree, taps into increasing societal fatigue around the high-pressure commercial Christmas season. The four-year-old international campaign is inspired by Adbuster’s Buy Nothing Day, and the driving force behind it is Aiden Enns, former managing editor at Adbusters magazine. The campaign has Christian origins but appeals more broadly, not unlike the event it seeks to redeem. A campaign poster has Jesus asking, "Where did I say that you should buy so much stuff to celebrate my birthday?"
Enns, a member of Hope Mennonite Church in Winnipeg, says there is a "ready hunger" for the message, citing 3,000-plus daily visitors to buynothingchristmas.org in recent days.
Enns joined our group, which also included a strong United Church youth contingent. For him, retail caroling is less a protest than an invitation to a less frenzied and happier Christmas experience. As for getting ousted from retail establishments, Enns says "mischief is a good thing if something's wrong with 'normal.'" And besides, it's festive mischief. When permitted, we ended a store visit with a hearty round of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" (traditional lyrics).
We banked on the fact that Christmas is the only season in which amateur public singing makes social sense (even if just barely). It's a unique season. There's a tinge of spiritual nostalgia in the air, something that draws one back to those things that most satisfy the human spirit - family, fun, song, goodwill, and even religion. Society breaks out in a bit of a smile.
Our message was a simple call to follow this seasonal inclination toward cheer and goodwill, rather than getting sidetracked by the stuff. It has an intuitive appeal for many. Perhaps people are getting weary of the contradictions. We feel drawn to basic human goodness, yet find ourselves stuck in Deal-orama seeking the perfect gift for that special someone who has everything but who will nonetheless get our "Made in China" plastic package of holiday affection.
Last Valentine's Day, the same mall that disapproved of our carols boldly advertised: "Yes, you can buy love." I e-mailed the mall manager wanting to hear someone defend such a bold-faced contradiction of what we've all known to be true since childhood. Her logic, by necessity, was as counterintuitive as the original claim, a logic akin to that which somehow compels us back into the perennial stress of Christmas excess.
Enns notes little difference between churchgoers and others when it comes to shopping. "That's a sad commentary on the church's compliance with consumer culture." A recent poll conducted by the Center for a New American Dream found widespread disillusionment with consumerism and materialism among Americans. A full 86% of those polled said they are more interested in pursuing "more of what matters in life," as opposed to a "more is better" tack.
The Buy Nothing Christmas campaign grants cultural permission to opt out of the frenzy, to celebrate more than just stuff. The campaign Web site provides a "catalogue" of non-purchased gift ideas and suggestions for making Christmas less stressful, more fun, and more meaningful. And there's nothing Scrooge-like about it: we were the happiest people in the mall.
I am not a hard-core Buy Nothing adherent, but I am pleased with my idea for a non-purchased gift for my father-in-law (whose name I drew). And my "shopped-until-she-dropped" Mom seems to have proclaimed a gift-free Christmas on my side of the family. If we had kids, more creativity would be required.
I know this Christmas will be at least as good as any other. And I suspect next year my holiday nostalgia will include a faint longing for some festive mischief.
Will Braun is a Mennonite writer from Winnipeg, Canada. He can be reached at benottobraun@yahoo.ca.
by Will Braun
Last Saturday I got kicked out of one mall and four big box stores - a Christmas shopping first for me. Twenty-five people and I, who probably go to church more often than the mall, were there to sing Christmas carols, evidently the kind that get people banished from the fluorescent premises of holiday madness.
Imagine standing in the checkout line at the local Super-Mega Deal-o-rama - in this case, in snowy Winnipeg, Canada - as a cheerful troupe of well-wishers march in the door singing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" - or no, wait...those aren't the traditional lyrics:
Slow down ye frantic shoppers for there's something we must say
If you would spare a moment all the stores would go away
Big business has been telling us what Christmas means today
Now it's time we decided for ourselves, for ourselves
Yes, it's time we decided for ourselves...
Our record was three full songs before being escorted out (in that case, politely). The opposition to our commercial sacrilege, however, did not come from shoppers. We might have been a fringe group oddly immune to public embarrassment, but shoppers didn't treat us that way. Many were curious, some indifferent, and a few responded as though they'd met a long-lost friend.
The Buy Nothing Christmas campaign, the impetus for our singing spree, taps into increasing societal fatigue around the high-pressure commercial Christmas season. The four-year-old international campaign is inspired by Adbuster’s Buy Nothing Day, and the driving force behind it is Aiden Enns, former managing editor at Adbusters magazine. The campaign has Christian origins but appeals more broadly, not unlike the event it seeks to redeem. A campaign poster has Jesus asking, "Where did I say that you should buy so much stuff to celebrate my birthday?"
Enns, a member of Hope Mennonite Church in Winnipeg, says there is a "ready hunger" for the message, citing 3,000-plus daily visitors to buynothingchristmas.org in recent days.
Enns joined our group, which also included a strong United Church youth contingent. For him, retail caroling is less a protest than an invitation to a less frenzied and happier Christmas experience. As for getting ousted from retail establishments, Enns says "mischief is a good thing if something's wrong with 'normal.'" And besides, it's festive mischief. When permitted, we ended a store visit with a hearty round of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" (traditional lyrics).
We banked on the fact that Christmas is the only season in which amateur public singing makes social sense (even if just barely). It's a unique season. There's a tinge of spiritual nostalgia in the air, something that draws one back to those things that most satisfy the human spirit - family, fun, song, goodwill, and even religion. Society breaks out in a bit of a smile.
Our message was a simple call to follow this seasonal inclination toward cheer and goodwill, rather than getting sidetracked by the stuff. It has an intuitive appeal for many. Perhaps people are getting weary of the contradictions. We feel drawn to basic human goodness, yet find ourselves stuck in Deal-orama seeking the perfect gift for that special someone who has everything but who will nonetheless get our "Made in China" plastic package of holiday affection.
Last Valentine's Day, the same mall that disapproved of our carols boldly advertised: "Yes, you can buy love." I e-mailed the mall manager wanting to hear someone defend such a bold-faced contradiction of what we've all known to be true since childhood. Her logic, by necessity, was as counterintuitive as the original claim, a logic akin to that which somehow compels us back into the perennial stress of Christmas excess.
Enns notes little difference between churchgoers and others when it comes to shopping. "That's a sad commentary on the church's compliance with consumer culture." A recent poll conducted by the Center for a New American Dream found widespread disillusionment with consumerism and materialism among Americans. A full 86% of those polled said they are more interested in pursuing "more of what matters in life," as opposed to a "more is better" tack.
The Buy Nothing Christmas campaign grants cultural permission to opt out of the frenzy, to celebrate more than just stuff. The campaign Web site provides a "catalogue" of non-purchased gift ideas and suggestions for making Christmas less stressful, more fun, and more meaningful. And there's nothing Scrooge-like about it: we were the happiest people in the mall.
I am not a hard-core Buy Nothing adherent, but I am pleased with my idea for a non-purchased gift for my father-in-law (whose name I drew). And my "shopped-until-she-dropped" Mom seems to have proclaimed a gift-free Christmas on my side of the family. If we had kids, more creativity would be required.
I know this Christmas will be at least as good as any other. And I suspect next year my holiday nostalgia will include a faint longing for some festive mischief.
Will Braun is a Mennonite writer from Winnipeg, Canada. He can be reached at benottobraun@yahoo.ca.
