Mon Festival

Sometimes I am invited to celebrations that are completely unknown to me, such as the Mon Festival. The Mon people, who have been granted asylum in the Netherlands, celebrate their cultural Mon Festival annually. Curious as I was, and honored by their invitation, I attended the feast. I was amazed: graceful traditional clothing, dances I had never seen before, and food with fantastic spices. And all of this within cycling distance in the Dutch polder.

This celebration, however, felt a bit more complicated. Part of the festivities included a ‘wrist-tying ceremony.’ ‘This is our culture,’ they said, ‘would you like a string too?’ But it turned out to be a ceremony rooted in their cultural Buddhist background. While holding an offering of flowers in your hands, a string is tied around your wrist to ensure your soul remains close to your body—at least, that was my understanding of the explanation.

Did I want that string or not? It was the ultimate sign of belonging. But belonging to what, exactly? There were a few Christian Mon at the festival. ‘What do you think?’ I asked. Some said they participated because it was merely culture and held no meaning. Others felt it was important not to let the hosts lose face; they didn’t particularly like it, but joined in anyway.

Some chose not to participate. They ate and danced but didn’t want the strings around their wrists. ‘Christ has set me free; I won’t let myself be tied down again,’ someone remarked. It turned out someone else had even stayed home for this reason; she knew the ceremony was part of the feast and wanted nothing to do with it.

There were many opinions, which made it no less complex. Yet, it led to beautiful and meaningful conversations: How do faith and culture relate? What questions do Christians with a Buddhist background face? I had no regrets about attending the Mon Festival. Not least because the Mon (both Buddhist and Christian) deeply appreciated that I, as a Dutch person, celebrated their festival with them, even if I didn’t join in all the rituals.

Moon Festival

A while later, I received an invitation from the Chinese community for the Moon Festival. With the Mon Festival experience fresh in my mind, I asked beforehand what to expect. I really wanted to come, but worshiping the moon didn’t seem like a good idea. They explained it was a family celebration. While there is a historical link to an old Chinese legend about a goddess banished to the moon with a jade rabbit, they assured me, ‘We don’t do anything with that. We just look at the full moon as a family, admire how beautifully round it is, celebrate friendship and love, and eat special mooncakes that are as round as the moon.’

When I went to the Moon Festival, I brought Psalm 8 in my back pocket. It was a wonderful celebration filled with laughter, conversation, delicious food, and music. No moon worship. But when the opportunity arose, I told them the story of a king from many centuries ago who gazed at the beautiful moon and saw the Creator of the moon and stars behind it. And then he wrote Psalm 8. It truly resonated.

Honestly: I love it when God lets me end up at such a party. To share in the life of another. To say something about the Creator of the moon at the Moon Festival. To preach spontaneously at a birthday when asked. To think along about the soul and freedom, and the extent to which you can participate in rituals rooted in your parents’ religion while you have long been a Christian.

Inviting Others

New celebrations in the polder. Sometimes it takes some getting used to. But I would say: by all means, go if you are invited. Step into the culture and life of the other. Enjoy the feast and the friendship. And perhaps such a celebration is just the right bridge to share something good about God and Jesus.

You know what else is a good plan? To invite people with a migration background to your own celebrations, whether they are Christian or not. Christmas, for example, is a perfect occasion for this. Make sure there is good food on the table, gifts, and music. Let them be part of a family celebrating together, as their own family may be far away.

Even then, you might have to look for the right connection—how do you get from a Christmas tree to the birth of Jesus? And how does a stuffed turkey relate to the Christmas story? On the other hand, you can simply tell the story. Once you’ve celebrated with people, they are sitting around your table, their bellies full, the fireplace lit… ‘Shall I tell you what Christmas means to my family?’ It can be that simple.

So yes: celebrate as much as possible. And if you’re looking for a good resolution for Christmas? Just ask someone who misses their family due to migration: ‘Are you coming to my party?’