In the middle of an excellent piece on the city of Philadelphia’s horror at a “Christmas Village,” Christine Flowers takes an informal poll and finds the following:
As an immigration attorney, I deal with a lot of non-Christians, and I wanted to see if the ones I knew were upset at the Christmas display. They were not. “Mohammed” from Pakistan was particularly happy that, unlike the holiday displays in his hometown, it was not in danger of being bombed by the Taliban. “Ziva” from Israel said she liked the idea that all this fuss was being made about a little Jewish boy. “Chiang” from China was thrilled that he could say the word “Christmas” in public and not be sent to a re-education camp. So when I told him the City of Brotherly Love was stripping the word from a public display, he shook his head in disgust.
People who come from countries that know what true religious intolerance is can’t understand the pettiness of the bureaucrats. Neither can I. Apparently, we have to accept that the word “Christmas” conjures up the same sort of nefarious images as swastikas, so we need to protect the quaking Quaker-flavored populace from the yearly plunge into the horror of the season.
The real problem we have in this country and in Europe is that the secularists want to banish Christianity altogether, so they go after things like the Christmas Village in the name of “tolerance”.
Fortunately the City of Brotherly Love reversed itself after the stink made the Drudge Report. Daniel Rubin couldn’t resist having a little fun with the original announcement:
I stood in a media scrum Tuesday – news of the name change had made the Drudge Report – as city Managing Director Richard Negrin explained how he’d received complaints from city workers and residents about the market, how unwelcoming it was to those who don’t do Christmas.
He told of how a little girl and her father had been walking by the market the other day, and the girl, who was Jewish, had asked, “Don’t we get a village?”
Yes, dear, I thought. We call it New York…
My feeling is have your Christmas market, and I’ll have my Hanukkah menorah. I’ll roast chestnuts with you by the fire, and you drop by my house when we wolf down some latkes and applesauce. Or sour cream. Just call ahead.
There’s an easier way for hospitality, though. One of the great regrets I have from my years in my family business is that I didn’t head to a 20,000 sq. ft. Jewish delicatessen in Delray Beach with one of our Jewish business partners. Sad to say, both of us had already spent too much time in the chow line, so we never did it.