by Jing Garcia -- because the mind is a terrible thing to taste.
Originally posted on: techsabado.com/2025/12/13/burning-chrome-the-pinoy-holiday-that-almost-forgot-the-baby-in-the-manger/
In the Philippines, Christmas isn’t just a day—it’s practically a third season. While much of the world marks December as the “holiday month,” Filipinos stretch the festival across four, sometimes five, months. The familiar ritual begins the moment September arrives—the first “-ber” month—and with it, radio stations roll out Jose Mari Chan’s Christmas carols, malls flip the switch on their lights, and roadside vendors unfurl parols. The celebration lingers long after New Year’s Eve fireworks and, in some towns, even into February.
As Christianity Today noted in a 2021 feature, the Philippines celebrates “the world’s longest Christmas season,” lasting from September until after the Feast of the Santo Niño in January, and sometimes into February when the Chinese Lunar New Year collides with Catholic calendars. It is both a cultural marvel and a sociological puzzle: what began as a sacred commemoration of Christ’s birth has become, for many, an almost unending season of consumption, spectacle, and, ironically, loneliness.
A season stretched by migration
The Philippines is a Catholic-majority nation, shaped by centuries of Spanish colonial rule. The religious practices—Simbang Gabi (midnight mass), the Misa de Gallo at dawn, the belen (Nativity scene), and the iconic parol—remain fixtures. Yet the modern length of the Christmas season owes as much to economics as to devotion.
Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP) reported in February 2025 that personal remittances reached a record US$38.34 billion in 2024, with December alone contributing US$3.73 billion, a 3% increase from the same month in 2023. As the Philippine Institute for Development Studies (PIDS) explained, the Christmas season “consistently drives the highest remittance inflows,” fueling consumption, gift-giving, and holiday reunions. In practice, this means balikbayan boxes stacked high in airports and ports, laden with toys, gadgets, and canned goods—all to be opened at Noche Buena tables across the archipelago.
Anthropologist Felipe Jocano Jr., quoted by Christianity Today, argued that this is no accident: the long Filipino Christmas is “sustained by remittances and malls,” both reinforcing each other. Without the inflow of migrant earnings and the consumer infrastructure to spend them, the Christmas season would be shorter, leaner, and perhaps closer to its original religious intent.
Faith strong faith, thinning rituals
Despite the obvious commercial pulse, religion has not disappeared from the Pinoy Christmas. Simbang Gabi still draws crowds before dawn. The Vatican itself recognizes the Filipino devotion, with Pope Francis praising the practice when celebrated at St. Peter’s Basilica.
But beneath these rituals, survey data paints a different picture. In February 2023, The Philippine Star reported on a Social Weather Stations (SWS) survey showing that only 38% of Filipinos attend religious services weekly. This marks a decline from earlier decades when weekly Mass attendance was more common.
At the same time, daily prayer remains robust. A 2023 feature by Aleteia, citing survey data, found that nearly 70% of Filipino Catholics pray every day, even if they don’t attend Mass regularly. The tension here is striking: personal devotion remains alive, yet institutional participation has weakened. Christmas, therefore, becomes the most visible—and sometimes the only—moment when many Filipinos reconnect with the Church calendar.
Now, at the same time, visit any major city by September and you’ll see it: malls decked out in full Christmas regalia, sound systems blasting carols, brands pushing “early holiday sales.” By December, the campaign peaks. According to Christianity Today, the Philippines’ Christmas economy has become so dominant that retailers rely on it to sustain annual revenues, making it both an economic driver and a cultural force.
But this glitter exacts a price. Filipino families, especially those in lower-income brackets, feel pressured to spend. The late anthropologist Prospero Covar once described the Filipino ethos of “hiya” (shame) and “utang na loob” (debt of gratitude), cultural norms that often push people to overextend financially during holidays to avoid embarrassment or to honor obligations. This manifests as loans, payday advances, and credit card debt—burdens that last long after the parols are put away.
The result: while Christmas lights burn bright, January often feels darker—not only spiritually but financially. What should be a time of joy and thanksgiving becomes, for many, a source of stress.
Still, Christmas remains the happiest time of year for most Filipinos—or at least, that’s what they say. Social Weather Stations’ 2024 survey found that 65% of Filipinos expected a happy Christmas, down from 73% in 2023. Published in Philstar.com, the survey revealed that while the majority remain hopeful, nearly one in three respondents admitted they expected sadness or neutrality.
This aligns with global findings on “holiday blues.” The U.S.-based National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) has reported that about 60% of Americans experience some form of mental distress during the holidays, whether from financial stress, loneliness, or family conflict. While Philippine-specific data is limited, health experts interviewed in Rappler and Philippine Daily Inquirer stories have observed similar patterns, particularly among overseas workers and urban poor communities left out of the season’s glitz.
In response, local groups like MentalHealthPH and the National Center for Mental Health (NCMH) remind Filipinos that crisis hotlines are available. The NCMH operates 24/7 lines (1553; 0917-899-8727; 7-989-8727), which they emphasize are crucial during “seasons of heightened emotional stress.”
The poverty gap under the lights
It is impossible to discuss Pinoy Christmas without acknowledging inequality. The Philippine Statistics Authority (PSA) reported that poverty incidence hovered around 22% in recent years. That means millions of Filipinos enter the holiday season unable to afford the very goods and gatherings that media and advertising present as universal.
Commentators in BusinessWorld and ABS-CBN News have pointed out how this gap warps the holiday experience: malls and corporate centers stage grand light shows, while urban poor families celebrate with modest meals. Yet even in these communities, the pressure to keep up appearances persists. A mother may still borrow to buy ham or queso de bola because “what is Christmas without them?”
As sociologist Nicole Curato of the University of Canberra has argued in her writings on Philippine culture, these rituals of inclusion—even when economically irrational—speak to Filipinos’ deep desire for dignity and participation in collective joy. Christmas, in this sense, is not just a holiday but a social equalizer, however fleeting.
Culture that resists
Despite the noise of commerce, Pinoy Christmas still preserves elements that resist commodification. The Giant Lantern Festival in San Fernando, Pampanga, known as the “Christmas Capital of the Philippines,” is rooted in community craft and religious procession. The parol, in its humble bamboo-and-paper form, remains a symbol of hope and light, even as upscale versions adorn malls.
Communal caroling, though less common in urban centers, continues in barangays, where children sing in exchange for coins or treats. These small rituals, still vibrant in provinces, demonstrate resilience: meaning that survives despite commercialization.
So, where does this leave us in 2025? If the season is longer than ever, if commercialism threatens to overwhelm meaning, if happiness coexists with depression, then the challenge is not to abolish but to re-center.
Church leaders interviewed in Christianity Today warned that when Christmas becomes omnipresent, “the message dilutes.” They urged believers to focus not on duration but on depth. Policymakers, too, have a role: consumer-protection agencies can strengthen financial literacy campaigns; schools and communities can highlight service and charity projects over gift exchanges.
More than anything, it is up to families and communities to choose what kind of Christmas they will celebrate. Will it be about lights in malls or light in the heart? Will it be about keeping up appearances or keeping faith alive?
The Filipino Christmas, as long and bright as it is, remains ours to shape. The question is whether we allow it to be shaped more by commerce or by compassion.
The paradox is clear. We are the country with the longest Christmas season in the world, a fact celebrated by Arab News, Christianity Today, and countless lifestyle features. We are also a country where remittances and 13th-month pay keep malls buzzing and cash registers ringing. But we are also a people of faith—praying daily, showing up at dawn Masses, still clinging to parols as symbols of hope.
This Christmas, may we remember that Christ was not born under mall lights, nor to the sound of carols piped into air-conditioned halls, but in the silence of a manger, in the company of the poor. If we can keep even a fraction of that in our own celebrations, perhaps the Pinoy Christmas—long, loud, and luminous—can still be holy.
Originally posted on: techsabado.com/2025/12/13/burning-chrome-the-pinoy-holiday-that-almost-forgot-the-baby-in-the-manger/
