J

ust before I wrote this column, a famous author, whose works are admired nationwide, gave me a piece of sincere advice: “Your writings are of poor quality and boring, perhaps due to your limited intellectual capacity.”

I do thank the highly respected writer for providing me with such an honest assessment. To console myself, I then argued that the readers of this newspaper sometimes need to read stupid columns just to gain some new perspective. This small column is also a chance for readers to learn about another side of the world.

Anyways, Christmas is only two days from now. Twelve years ago, I was in Tokyo on Christmas Eve. I was filled with panic that evening after having watched an NHK TV report that said terrorists had bombed several churches in Jakarta, including a Catholic church in East Jakarta where my wife and our three children planned to go that evening. I called home with no avail until midnight. Dozens of victims were reportedly killed in the barbaric act of terror.

“Hello, Pa, Merry Christmas,” said my daughter, who called me just after midnight, Tokyo time. They knew nothing about bombings. They had returned home late after dinner at a Chinese restaurant. For the first time in my life, I was desperate to know the whereabouts of my family.

Christmas is not a public holiday in Japan, although the country had been buzzing with holiday spirit from early November.

I told my boss — I worked for six months at a national newspaper in Tokyo — that I would not come to the office on Dec. 25. He asked me to join other colleagues after working hours to celebrate the holiday.

Two days before, I received a letter from my landlord. I had practically no Japanese-language skills. But from what I understood, all tenants were invited to a gathering at the dining room at 12 p.m.

“We will have a great lunch,” that was what I could comprehend from the invitation. I wore my best batik and took a copy of the Bible downstairs as I wanted to preach the truthful teachings of Jesus. They were nonbelievers who should know about the good news from God.

Then, when I got to the dining room, no one was there and no one ever showed up. With great disappointment, I went to work and complained to my boss. He called the landlord and he burst into laughter.

“The letter you received was just an announcement that you had to leave your room because there would be an annual electricity inspection.” Ha ... ha ... ha.

On the evening on Dec. 25, we went to a bar in the Ginza area to celebrate the birth of Jesus. There was a massive free flow of sake, we got drunk and sang, “Silent night, holy night ... ” While under the influence of alcohol, they praised Jesus for giving them a chance to get drunk together every year. I don’t think Jesus was offended by the feelings my Japanese friends expressed.

Since I was a child, I had dreamed of singing “Silent Night” in Bethlehem. I almost got that chance. A few years ago, my wife and I went to the Holy Land. Soon after my arrival at the Church of Nativity, I loudly sang in Indonesian, ignoring stares from the priest inside the church.

No one joined in, as if it was a big sin to sing the famous song in October. I still want to go back to Bethlehem to show-off the beauty of my voice before I go to heaven (aware of my own deeds, I have no hope to be received there) or to hell (hopefully nonexistent).

But, the worst place to sing the beautiful song was apparently in a nightclub Manila. I was there just few days before Christmas. A big Christmas tree stood, and singers and dancers (nearly nude) were performing.

Unfortunately, they incorporated religious themes into their performance. Alas, an instrumental version of the “Silent Night” played. I prayed for forgiveness, but it was hard to avert my eyes from the dancers. It was a big religious temptation.

Merry Christmas! For friends who feel it is sinful to wish me a Merry Christmas, you can just say, “Happy birthday to your boss” (Are you bored now?).

— Kornelius Purba