Akim Reinhardt underscores the secular way to appreciate the holiday, taking a cue from his immigrant friends:
Three generations’ worth of Indian immigrants and their progeny would decorate a tree, wrap and exchange gifts, and even sing overtly religious songs like "Oh Holy Night." They were Hindus. Not only weren’t they Christian, a number of them didn’t even really know all that much about Christian theology. Yet there they were, not only "doing" Christmas, and not being threatened by it at all. Hell, they were enjoying it as much as the next guy. …
Because in a nation where citizenship is based on a political ideal instead of an ethnicity, and where where national ethnicity itself, "American-ness," is an incredibly dynamic and flexible thing, celebrating the secular, pop-culture version of Christmas is a fast track to actually being accepted. It’s a harmless (though potentially expensive) form of assimilation. That’s what my Gujarati friends understood. Celebrating the birth of Christ is a way to be Christian. But decorating a tree, eating gingerbread cookies, exchanging gifts, and even singing "Fa La La," is a way to be American.
Bruce Feiler also considers whether God is necessary to enjoy the holidays:
Yes, the Hanukkah story, like many in religion, has a strong streak of violence, intolerance and paganism. (Christmas, for the record, has similar streaks.) I get a perverse pleasure out of dropping hints about that with my kids, puncturing the pristine version they learn at our synagogue. But it’s also a story of deep devotion, of standing up for your beliefs, of maintaining a tradition for thousands of years, even as those around you wanted to kill you for a small dose of honor to the past. I once participated in lighting a menorah at the base of the Western Wall. It was deeply emotional, even though I have profound ambivalence about the Maccabees.
To me, that’s what the holidays are about — relating the past to the present. Changing views of God are a central part of that story. I wrote about kids and God in The Times a few years ago, and the one vow I made to myself is that I won’t lie to my children. I tell them what I believe (as does my wife). I tell them that most people disagree with us. And I refuse to tell them fairy tales about men in white beards. I try to tell them age-appropriate versions of the sometimes messy, sometimes beautiful truth. And when all else fails (as it eventually does), I ask them, "So what do you believe?"
The Dish 