Diane Boldt of Upper Gwynedd Township, Pa., thinks of herself as a multicultural sort of person. She speaks a smattering of Yiddish, taught to her by her father, who learned it from Jewish colleagues at work. She puts Kwanzaa stamps on her Christmas cards because she likes the idea and loves the colors.

But lately, she’s been feeling as if someone other than the Grinch is stealing Christmas.

“People have changed Christmas into ‘holiday time,'” she laments. “We should be allowed to say, ‘Merry Christmas’ as well as ‘Happy Hanukkah’ and all the rest. Why, even at church” ” she attends Trinity Episcopal in Ambler, Pa., — “people will say, ‘Happy holidays.’ And we’re all Christians!

“It seems that ‘Happy holidays’ has overtaken everything.”

Diane, I hear you.

We come from different religious traditions, but arrive at the same point of disgust at the commercialism and homogenization of these distinct communal celebrations.

The conflation of Christmas, Hanukkah, and now Kwanzaa has reached such a point that it seems they are morphing into one big, fat indistinguishable holiday. And Americans ” so nobly anxious not to offend anyone — have taken to using the benign greeting of “Happy holidays” so frequently that it’s quickly becoming as meaningless as “Have a nice day!”

Naturally, at the heart of this seasonal correctness are the best of intentions: a desire to be inclusive and polite, to acknowledge that not every American cares that there are however many shopping days left and not everyone shares the same calendar.

Those are marvelously admirable national impulses. To some degree, they make it easier to be the other at this time of year. We who do not celebrate Christmas no longer have to feel like a lost boy with nose pressed to a frosty window for a glimpse of a real Frank Capra-like moment. Lights can draw us in another direction, or not at all.

If this were just a matter of semantics, of language, then I am certain that Diane Boldt and I would not feel as assaulted. But mix in the potent ingredient of rampant commercialization, and we reach our limit.

“The Christmas I remember as a child had no glitz and cheapness and blinking lights,” says Letitia Baldridge, the etiquette expert, who shares our passion on this subject. “People remembered that it was the birth of Christ. The contrast today is so stark, so sad.”

She goes on: “People who believe in the birth of Christ and all the surrounding religious rituals should be allowed to practice and not have reindeer on the roof. It should not be all glitter and snowballs. We should be able to have religious feelings about Christmas and not have to hide them.”

And there, in her mannerly way, Baldridge has touched the real nerve. The secularization of Christmas and the elevation of Hanukkah do a disservice to both, robbing them of their identity and mistaking their messages. Holding onto the essential simplicity and magic of Christmas is, I suspect, as difficult as celebrating Hanukkah for the minor holiday it actually is.

Somehow we have to learn to coexist without calling in lawyers and initiating merger talks. We have to recognize the strength and distinctiveness of each celebration, and not force equality by pretending that “I Had a Little Dreidel” is on par with the heavenly melodies of Christmas carols.

This isn’t a competition. I’ve got other melodies in my head, from holidays that are genuinely holy days, with far more spiritual resonance.

And to those who are afraid that I, a Jew, will be offended if you wish me Merry Christmas, I say: Please don’t worry.

True, Letitia Baldridge says that we should wish Merry Christmas to those we are sure are Christian, and Happy holidays for the question marks. But if those of us on the receiving end of such greetings are mistakenly identified, we should graciously accept the wishes for what they are: An attempt to share a joyous spirit.

Jane R. Eisner is a columnist for Philadelphia Inquirer. Her e-mail address is jeisner@phillynews.com