The Sacred and the Shoulds: How Religion Complicates the Holidays

The holidays are supposed to be a time of joy, peace, and celebration. For many of us, though, they carry a heavy weight—especially when our relationship with religion is complicated or changing. Faith traditions are deeply embedded in the season, from the songs we sing to the rituals we’re expected to perform. And while those traditions can offer comfort and meaning, they can also feel stifling when the experience no longer aligns with who we are.

The Weight of “Should”

Religious holidays come with an invisible checklist of shoulds:

  • You should feel grateful.

  • You should attend church, say the prayers, or participate in the rituals.

  • You should feel the magic of the season, even if your heart isn’t in it.

But what happens when the shoulds feel hollow? When doubt creeps in, or gratitude feels out of reach? What if you can’t find joy in rituals that others hold sacred?

For me, there have been years when I’ve gone through the motions of the season—lighting candles, singing hymns, decorating the house—because I felt like I should. I wanted to be a good mother, a good partner, a good person. But instead of feeling peace or connection, I felt resentment, disconnection, and guilt.

When Faith Shifts

If you’ve ever experienced a shifting or evolving faith, you know how disorienting it can be. Beliefs that once felt certain can crumble, leaving you to rebuild your understanding of yourself, the divine, and the world around you. And during the holidays—when those beliefs are front and center—grief, confusion, and anger often come bubbling to the surface.

A shifting faith can feel like an unwelcome guest at the holiday table. While others celebrate with certainty, you may feel like you’re standing on shaky ground, unsure of where you fit or what these traditions mean to you now. And yet, the pressure to participate remains. You’re expected to carry on, to perform joy, even when what you’re feeling is anything but joyful.

For me, this tension has sometimes made the holidays feel lonely. Faith—when it’s rigid—leaves little room for questioning. And yet questioning is often where the most growth happens. It’s in that discomfort that we come closer to something real.

Reclaiming the Sacred

So, how do we navigate the holidays when our faith feels complicated? How do we honor the sacred parts of the season while releasing the shoulds that no longer serve us?

For me, it starts with permission:

  • Permission to question. To sit with doubt, grief, or confusion instead of pushing it away.

  • Permission to redefine. To let go of traditions that feel empty and to create new rituals that hold meaning.

  • Permission to honor what’s real. To embrace the full range of feelings—joy, sorrow, anger, gratitude—without shame.

This might look like finding new ways to connect with the sacred: lighting candles in quiet reflection, spending time in nature, or simply slowing down and breathing deeply. It might mean letting go of performative spirituality and leaning into the parts of the season that feel genuine, no matter how small.

The truth is, religion isn’t just about the traditions we’re handed. It’s about the meaning we create. And sometimes, reclaiming the sacred means letting go of what no longer fits.

An Invitation

If you’re someone who feels conflicted about the religious side of the holidays, I want you to know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to feel doubt. It’s okay to grieve a faith that’s shifting or to question what you’ve always been told. You don’t have to perform joy, gratitude, or certainty.

This season, I invite you to give yourself permission to untangle the shoulds and ask yourself:

  • What does sacredness mean to me?

  • What traditions feel meaningful, and which ones can I release?

  • How can I honor where I am right now, even if it doesn’t look the way it used to?

The holidays are messy. They are both beautiful and heavy. And when we give ourselves permission to hold that complexity, we might just find something truer, deeper, and more real.

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Deck the Halls? First Let’s Untangle Them