The difficult work of Christmas

By Noel Galon de Leon

For many Filipinos, Christmas is more than a date on the calendar. It is a deeply emotional season. It is a time when families try to come home, when old conflicts are expected to soften, and when generosity is encouraged even in the midst of scarcity. From early September, the air already carries anticipation through lights, music, and memories. Yet beneath the celebration is the expectation to forgive and to give.

Christmas, is therefore both comforting and demanding. Comforting because it reminds us that we are not alone. Demanding because it asks something difficult of us. We are told that this is the season of forgiveness and sharing, but these ideals are not always easy to live out, especially for those who are tired, wounded, or struggling just to survive.

Among Ilonggos, Christmas often carries a similar meaning but with a distinct emotional texture. Ilonggos are known for their gentleness, restraint, and deep sense of relational harmony. For many of them, Christmas is rather than loud and reflective rather than extravagant. It is about maintaining inner peace and harmony, especially within the family and the community.

Forgiveness, has always been central to the idea of Christmas. Long before modern celebrations, forgiveness was understood as a social necessity. Communities survived by restoring relationships after conflict. In many cultures, reconciliation rituals were tied to seasonal changes, signaling a fresh start, something that Christmas later came to symbolize.

Religiously, forgiveness is at the heart of the Christmas story. The birth of Christ is presented as an act of divine forgiveness, God choosing to draw near to humanity despite its flaws. In Christianity, forgiveness is not just encouraged. It is commanded. To forgive is to imitate divine love, a love that absorbs pain rather than passing it on.

However, forgiveness is not easy, and this difficulty must be acknowledged honestly. To forgive often means revisiting pain, injustice, and loss. For victims of betrayal, abuse, or neglect, forgiveness can feel like an unfair burden. It can seem as if the one who was hurt is being asked to do all the emotional labor while the offender moves on.

Culturally, Filipinos are often taught to forgive quickly for the sake of harmony. Phrases such as “intindihin mo na lang” or “patawarin mo na” are common. While these expressions aim to preserve peace, they can sometimes silence legitimate pain. Forgiveness, when rushed or forced, becomes performative rather than healing.

The concept of giving, or pagbibigayan, is another pillar of Christmas. We are taught that to give is to love and that generosity reflects the spirit of the season. Saying “I will give” is easy because it aligns with our values and our identity as caring people. It feels good to imagine ourselves as generous.

Yet giving becomes difficult when it demands real sacrifice. True giving costs something, whether time, energy, money, or emotional presence. During Christmas, the pressure to give can be overwhelming, especially when generosity is measured through material gifts rather than intention or sincerity.

This leads to a painful reality. Many people want to help but simply cannot. Poverty, debt, and insecurity limit one’s capacity to give. For someone who is already lacking, being told to give more can feel cruel rather than inspiring. Wanting to help but being unable to do so often produces guilt and shame.

In the Philippines, where many live paycheck to paycheck, Christmas can intensify feelings of inadequacy. People stretch their resources to meet expectations, sometimes at the cost of their own well-being. The desire to participate in generosity clashes with the reality of scarcity.

Among Ilonggos, this tension is often handled quietly. There is less display and less complaint, but not less struggle. Many Ilonggos express generosity through presence rather than presents by cooking simple meals, opening their homes, or offering silent support. Their giving may be modest, but it is deeply relational.

So what, then, is the true meaning of Christmas for many Filipinos and Ilonggos. It is not perfection, nor abundance. It is the act of continuing to care despite limitations. It is choosing connection over isolation and compassion over resentment, even when these choices are hard.

Christmas reminds us that forgiveness is a journey, not a command that can be instantly obeyed. It also teaches that giving does not always mean material exchange. Sometimes, the most meaningful gifts are understanding, patience, and the willingness to sit with one another’s pain.

In the end, the value of Christmas lies not in how much we forgive or how much we give, but in our honesty about what we can offer. For many Filipinos, and especially for Ilonggos, Christmas is a quiet affirmation of humanity, wounded and limited, yet still capable of love.