Aimee’s Naming Day
Last Saturday we had a naming day for my 9 month-old niece, and my sister, being cool like she is, picked a Humanist ceremony.
It was a big family do in my parents' garden, and relatives came from far and wide. The weather was a bit variable, but we managed to grab the perfect half hour in the early afternoon, and we were all gathered in the shade of the apple tree by the obviously experienced Celebrant. I was at the front near the baby, as Jane had asked me to be an Honorary Parent, or as it became known, a Goodparent1. This was lovely of them, and I'm chuffed they thought of me. I am, along with Aimee's aunt and a family friend, tasked with being available if ever Aimee needs help, as well as generally checking things are going ok. I can do this, although it does conflict with my role as uncle, which traditionally involves giving sweets at inappropriate times and the teaching of rude words.
I'd figured being at the front would make it difficult to take photos, but after a few attempts to hand over my camera were met with frightened looks I decided to wing it, and it didn't matter at all. The whole event was actually pleasingly informal, but sincere with it.
I liked the tone of the Celebrant's script. It wasn't too cloying or false, and there was no mention of religion. It expressed, in my opinion, exactly the right sentiments:
As she grows older she will no doubt ask many questions and you will all do your best to answer them truthfully. She will also ask questions that no one can answer, and have to accept that there is a great deal of uncertainty in life because of our own basic fallibility. But whatever her age she will deserve the tender love and firm guidance, which only you as parents, grandparents, friends and teachers can give.
Moreover, children have a right to a faith in themselves, in the story of mankind and in their heritage. It is up to those around her to give her as good a start in life as possible; to provide her with the best example of the way humans should relate to all others around them; to surround her with the warmth of your affection and love, to support her through all the ups and downs of her life. In that way the cycle of human relationships can survive, sometimes against all the odds. Who knows what she may accomplish in her life with help and encouragement from those who will influence her.
I particularly liked that Aimee was always referred to as an individual. She was never implied to be the possession of her parents, but a unique person who would be brought up to think for herself. Stonking.
A few weeks ago I volunteered to read a poem, then agonized for ages. I found a few possibilities, but most were sickly sweet. Neil Gaiman had a couple of good ones, but they were a little dark, and I quite liked a Roman Dirge, er, dirge, before thankfully coming to my senses2. Dawkins has written some nice pieces for his children, but I didn't want to mention religion explicitly. I saw a suggestion of Kurt Vonnegut's:
Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you've got about a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies -- 'God damn it, you've got to be kind.'
which came close. But eventually I went with 'My Mom and Dad', by Bill Watterson. I prefaced it by saying I was reading in my role as uncle, and on behalf of Aimee, then looked down and hoped I wasn't going to ruin the whole day:
My Mom and Dad are not what they seem.
Their dull appearance is part of their scheme.
I know of their plans. I know their techniques.
My parents are outer space alien freaks!They landed on Earth in spaceships humongous.
Posing as grownups, they now walk among us.
My parents deny this, but I know the truth.
They're here to enslave me and spoil my youth.Early each morning, as the sun rises,
Mom and Dad put on their Earthling disguises.
I knew right away their masks weren't legit.
Their faces are lined - they sag and don't fit.The Earth's gravity makes them sluggish and slow.
They say not to run, wherever I go.
They live by the clock. They're slaves to routines.
They work the year 'round. They're almost machines.They deny that TV and fried food have much worth.
They cannot be human. They're not of this Earth.
I cannot escape their alien gaze,
and they're warping my mind with their alien ways.For sinister plots, this one is a gem.
They're bringing me up to turn me into them.
The poem was originally published in a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon. I'd run it by my parents beforehand, but was still pretty nervous. Thankfully it went down well, and everybody laughed. The Celebrant asked if she could keep a copy for recommending to others, too(!). Dad wrote his own poem and I think he was more nervous than me, but it was excellent and also got a good reaction.
We Goodparents promised to do our duties, during which Meg the Labrador celebrated by having a mad moment and sprinting through the crowd at full pelt, then Aimee was presented with a necklace and everyone raised their glasses to her.
I took a few hundred photos over the afternoon, and in every single one my sister has the biggest smile on her face. Which is lovely - it's great to see her so happy.
I had a chance to talk to the BHA Celebrant beforehand. I rarely encounter other BHA members, and it was nice to chat with somebody who's followed the ups-and-downs of secular humanism over the last year. We cheered about the abolition of the blasphemy law and rolled our eyes at the English rules on weddings. She's trained to perform wedding ceremonies, and in Scotland could be licensed to perform a legal ceremony, but England only allows places to be licensed. She also does multiple funerals per week and 7-8 naming ceremonies a year.
There were a couple of religious people there, and I couldn't help feeling a bit nervous about the ceremony. Obviously Christenings are the usual default, but they're just creepy. Anyone who thinks babies are born sinful and need to be cleansed can stay the hell away from my niece (I can say that - it's my job). Thankfully the Humanist ceremony didn't disappoint. It wasn't stridently secular, nor too gushing, and was actually full of meaningful things. I thought it was an effective and appropriate ritual, and I'll certainly recommend it. All the pictures are here.
- a term I apparently dreamt, since I can't find it written anywhere [↩]
- from his wonderful Something at the Window is Scratching [↩]
Why would a secular humanist celebrate Christmas?
The Sun and Daily Mail are apparently going mental over something this month - can you guess what? Yep: political correctness. It's ruining the Christmas of millions across the UK. It's a war. You see, Birmingham and Luton have renamed the holiday season, and hospitals are banning Christmas CDs, and people are being told to take down decorations, and and and...
All of which might be reasonable, were it not for a few awkward facts. Luton does not have a festival called Luminos. It does not use any alternative name for Christmas. When it did, once, five years ago, hold something called Luminos one weekend in late November, the event didn't even replace the council's own Christmas celebrations, let alone forbid anyone else from doing anything. Similarly, Christmas is not called Winterval in Birmingham. The Royal Edinburgh Hospital for Sick Children never banned a Christmas CD for mentioning Jesus. And Chester council's "un-Christian" Christmas card says - as cards have done for decades - "Season's Greetings" [...] Perhaps the most notorious of the anti-Christmas rebrandings is Winterval, in Birmingham, and when you telephone the Birmingham city council press office to ask about it, you are met first of all with a silence that might seasonably be described as frosty. "We get this every year," a press officer sighs, eventually. "It just depends how many rogue journalists you get in any given year. We tell them it's bollocks, but it doesn't seem to make much difference."
It's too funny. The Guardian article debunks the whole thing. Thanks to the Labour Humanist (get well soon!) for pointing this out. I'd have no problem with people choosing not to celebrate Christmas if that's what they wanted, but doing it so as not to offend is pretty silly. But it's not happening anyway, and I like that too. Me, I love this time of year.
What, people have asked, am I doing celebrating Christmas at all? Why would secular humanists have any interest in Christmas? I'd point out that you can't really ask why secular humanists as a group do anything en masse - they don't, that's the point - but it's nevertheless a reasonable question to ask any individual, given the obvious conflict between secular humanism and religion. There are two answers, I think.
Firstly, Christmas doesn't actually have all that much to do with Christianity. It's no coincidence that it coincides with the winter solstice, and the traditions of decorations, trees, robins, snowmen, receiving and giving gifts, holly and mistletoe all pre-date Christianity and are very much Pagan ideas. Christianity later added stars, carols and obviously the name, but the flaming plum pudding is still a clear symbol of the sun. Embracing Pagan ideas makes no more sense than embracing Christian ideas, of course, but the idea of celebrating the turning of the world towards spring makes sense. But this is only partly satisfactory. It neatly sidesteps the Christianity issue, but for me it doesn't address the underlying question - what's the point of celebrations of this kind?
The answer is they're nice, and people enjoy them. I do. I like the lights, the music, the atmosphere. I like sending and receiving cards, thinking up and shopping for gifts and eating large amounts of chocolate. I like the tv specials, the many films, friends coming 'home' for the holidays and having a few days when Mum and Dad aren't working (although with over 300 tax returns due in during January they don't get much time off). Whether you think Christianity latched onto these things because they're pleasant or it inspired them in the first place, the end result is that things happen that make people happy.
I see no conflict between my secular values and extracting and enjoying the best parts of Christmas tradition. As mentioned previously, most of Christmas isn't inherently religious anyway. Many of the traditions make me happy, but enjoyment doesn't imply any acceptance of the religious aspects, just as I can appreciate the beauty of religious music without thinking the words make any sense. I don't think Christmas as celebrated in the UK has all that much to do with religion, and, despite the tabloid press, it's not particularly evangelical either. Only the strongest of evangelicals would say that I must accept their doctrine in order to enjoy its results - the vast majority of Christians are perfectly happy to read a deeper meaning into Christmas without demanding everybody else does too. And I am too, just with other meanings.
People come together to relax and enjoy themselves for a few days - what could possibly be wrong with that, if it doesn't harm anyone? I have far more worries over the endless pressures of work than I do over commercialism, and for all the complaining about the latter (whining which I think is pretty stupid, but that's another post) there's a kindness around the exchanging of gifts that you don't find elsewhere. From a humanist perspective, that's great - look what we as humans do, when we choose to. Of course it's not good for everybody: if you're lonely, or homeless, or simply don't like the season, it's undoubtedly not much fun. And we should (and often do) try to help out people. But, nevertheless, for many Christmas is something to look forward to, and I don't think that can be easily dismissed. But what about the religious aspects? Should I have any qualms about those?
I think the Christian elements of Christmas are relatively benign, unlike creepy Easter. There's the frankly weird nativity tale, but it doesn't deal much with doctrine and I suspect most children simply like the story. Admittedly there's virgin birth in there, which is a pretty stupid thing to tell a child is true (how do you do that without mentioning sex, btw?), and I guess there's a magic star, but there's nothing of any real-world substance behind either of those. It's not like they're anti-gay metaphors. There's a touch of original sin in there, and maybe the idea of Jesus as superhero starts with the romantic tale of his birth, so I imagine it could be argued that it aids in the indoctrination of children, but I think it's pretty far down the scale of things to worry about. I suspect the number of people who actually think the nativity tale is true is far lower than one might expect, too.
I see no reason why a secular humanist shouldn't choose to celebrate for any reason he or she wants, if it makes them happy. And if everybody else is doing the same thing at the same time, even if it's for different reasons, all the better. I know there are people who get annoyed by the festive season, and I don't know what to say to them. I'm just lucky that I like it. The decorations are going up here over the next few days. I hope you like the festive blog theme - there's always the rss feed otherwise 
Hello!
Hey, thanks for coming! I'm Andrew, and this is where my headthinks come to breed. They often meander around humanism and photography, but they're flighty and you can't trust them, so anything is possible.
Do feel free to email me - I get lonely:
Your hair looks swish, by the way - have you done something new?
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