The inclusive-greeting rule (it's about them, not you)

The rule is one move. Match the reader's tradition if you know it. Stay neutral if you don't. Don't write the wish that comforts you and hope it lands.

That's it. The writer's instinct is to reach for whatever they grew up with (Christmas if they're Christian, Hanukkah if they're Jewish, Diwali if they're Hindu) and send it out as a kindness. Half the time it works. The other half, the recipient politely receives a wish that wasn't quite for them and quietly notes that the sender didn't think to check. The fix isn't to abandon your own tradition's warmth. It's to apply it in the right direction.

Three rules of thumb that keep you out of trouble. One: if you know the person celebrates a specific holiday, use that holiday by name. "Happy Diwali to you and your family" is warmer and more accurate than "happy holidays" for someone who's lit diyas every November of their life. Two: if you don't know, the neutral phrases ("happy holidays," "warm wishes for the season," "happy new year") are not cold. They land. Three: the line that follows the greeting matters more than the greeting itself. A specific real sentence about the year you shared beats any seasonal salutation, regardless of tradition.

Christmas card messages

For the people you know celebrate Christmas. Eight lines, lifted straight or used as a starter. There's a longer Christmas-specific guide over at christmas card messages if you want more.

  • Merry Christmas. Hope the tree's up early.
  • Wishing you a Christmas as warm as your kitchen and as loud as your living room.
  • Merry Christmas to you and yours. May the kids forgive the early start and the adults forgive each other by lunchtime.
  • A very merry Christmas. Thanks for being in our corner this year.
  • Merry Christmas from our house to yours. We'll think of you while we eat far too much and pretend we won't again next year.
  • Wishing you a Christmas full of the people who know your weird traditions and join in anyway.
  • Merry Christmas. Hope this one is exactly as chaotic or as quiet as you want it to be, no apologies either way.
  • A very merry Christmas to you and yours, and a real break from the inbox. Praying for peace in the rooms and patience with the relatives.

Messages for other traditions (Hanukkah, Diwali, Eid, Kwanzaa, Lunar New Year)

Twenty-four lines across the traditions I get asked about most often. Each set leans on what's distinctive (the eight nights for Hanukkah, the diyas for Diwali, the post-Ramadan rest for Eid, the seven principles for Kwanzaa, the red envelopes for Lunar New Year). Cousin articles with more depth and the standard greetings: Diwali wishes, Eid wishes, Lunar New Year wishes.

Hanukkah (five lines). Skip mash-ups like "Merry Chrismukkah" unless you're family and you know it'll land.

  • Happy Hanukkah.
  • Chag sameach. May this year's lights burn a little longer than last year's, and may the brisket be in the room.
  • Happy Hanukkah. Thinking of you and yours through all eight nights, and the post-Hanukkah cleanup, which we won't pretend isn't real.
  • Wishing you a bright, peaceful Hanukkah. May the candles be lit, the dreidel land on gimel, and the kids stay up later than they should.
  • Chag urim sameach. Happy Festival of Lights to your family.

Diwali (five lines). A simple Hindi or Sanskrit phrase used with care is welcome; a heavy mash with Christmas isn't.

  • Happy Diwali to you and your family. May the diyas burn bright.
  • Shubh Deepavali to you and yours. May this Diwali bring health, light, and a quieter mind than the last one.
  • Happy Diwali. Thinking of your whole family this week, and the rangoli I know will be more elaborate than ours.
  • Wishing you a Diwali full of laughter, lamps, and the sweets you only make this time of year.
  • Shubh Deepavali. May the year ahead be one of light over darkness in every small way.

Eid (five lines, works for both Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha). Eid Mubarak is the standard wish and is welcome from anyone, including non-Muslim senders.

  • Eid Mubarak.
  • Eid Mubarak to you and your family. Wishing you a beautiful celebration after a meaningful month.
  • Wishing you a blessed Eid. Thinking of you and yours, and grateful to know you.
  • Eid Mubarak from our family to yours. May Allah accept your prayers and grant your home peace.
  • Eid Saeed. Hope the kids are full, the elders are honoured, and the leftovers last all week.

Kwanzaa (four lines). The standard greeting is Habari Gani ("what news?") with the response being the principle of the day. Celebrated December 26 through January 1.

  • Habari Gani. Wishing you and your family a meaningful Kwanzaa.
  • Happy Kwanzaa to you and yours. May Umoja carry you through the week and into the new year.
  • Wishing you a blessed Kwanzaa. Thinking of your family lighting the kinara, naming the principles, and gathering the people who matter.
  • Joyous Kwanzaa. Grateful for your community and the way you bring people in, all year, not only this week.

Lunar New Year (five lines). Celebrated across China, Vietnam, Korea, and many other communities, usually in late January or February. Standard greetings: Xin Nian Kuai Le (Mandarin: Happy New Year), Gong Xi Fa Cai (Mandarin: wishing you prosperity), Chuc Mung Nam Moi (Vietnamese Tet), Saehae Bok Mani Badeuseyo (Korean Seollal).

  • Xin Nian Kuai Le. Wishing you and your family a year of health, prosperity, and the kind of luck you can feel.
  • Happy Lunar New Year. May the year of the [rabbit / dragon / snake] bring you and your family every good thing.
  • Gong Xi Fa Cai. Sending wishes for a year of abundance, ease, and big family dinners that go on for hours.
  • Chuc Mung Nam Moi.
  • Saehae Bok Mani Badeuseyo. Wishing you a year of good fortune and the patience to wait for the slower parts of it.

Corporate inclusive holiday messages

For the company-wide card, the client list, the team newsletter, the all-hands that goes to a couple of hundred people who celebrate everything. The rule here is doubled. Stay neutral, and don't perform neutrality so hard that the message becomes vapour. Eight lines that hold warmth without picking a tradition. (Heads up on opinion: I've used line three unironically four years running now. Make of that what you will.)

  • Wishing the whole team a restful end to the year. Thank you for the work, the patience, and the people you've been all year.
  • Warm wishes for the season from all of us. Whatever you celebrate, we hope it's loud, quiet, or in between, exactly as you want it.
  • Happy holidays to our team and your families. Thank you for showing up for each other this year. That's the part the metrics never quite capture.
  • Season's greetings from our leadership team.
  • Wishing all our clients and partners a peaceful close to the year. Looking forward to building together in the next one.
  • Happy holidays. Take the days off. We mean it. The inbox can wait, and so can we.
  • From all of us at [Company], a deep thank-you for the year. Rest well. Come back when you're ready.
  • Happy holidays from our team to yours. Take a real break this year. The work will still be here, and so will we.

For someone having a hard year

The card to a friend who lost a parent in October. The colleague going through a divorce. The family who've been ill or out of work or quietly struggling. Standard cheer doesn't fit, and a card that pretends nothing's wrong reads as not having paid attention. Seven lines that hold the weight without making the holiday about the hardness. (For the long arc of grief specifically, the deeper guides are what to say when someone dies and religious vs non-religious condolences.)

The shape that works: acknowledge the year, hold space without solving, offer something specific if you can, and don't perform optimism the recipient can't return.

  • Thinking of you this holiday season. I know it's not the one you expected, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.
  • Holiday wishes feel thin this year. So I'll just say I love you, I miss your mum, and I'm holding all of you close.
  • This one's a hard one to send a cheerful card for. So this isn't that. It's just to say I'm thinking about you and not going anywhere.
  • Wishing you a soft holiday this year. No expectations, no should-bes, whatever you can manage is the goal.
  • Sending you love this December. The first holiday after a loss is its own kind of long. I'm here for the quiet days.
  • Holding you and your family in my thoughts this season. I'll text on the 24th and the 1st. Pick up only if you want company.
  • I know this isn't the year you'd hoped for. Sending you steady, ordinary love anyway, the kind that doesn't need a big bow on it.

What not to write

A short list of the moves I've retired from my own rotation. None of these are sins. They've just stopped working, either because they assume what they shouldn't or because they're so worn they read as a stock-image card.

"Merry Christmas" to someone whose faith you don't know. The single most common version of the inclusive-greeting failure (it's literally the Rasha mistake from my opener). If you're not sure they celebrate Christmas, default to "happy holidays" or to the relationship. "Thanks for the year, see you in January" beats a misfired wish every time. If they later tell you they do celebrate Christmas, a follow-up note is fine. That's an easier correction than the other direction.

Forcing a religious wish on a non-religious reader. Same rule as condolences. Write from their world, not yours. "May the Lord bless you and your family this Christmas" lands beautifully on someone who shares the faith and oddly on someone who doesn't. For mixed audiences, the neutral wrap is the kind move.

Performative neutrality. The opposite failure. A card so over-engineered to offend nobody that it reads like a corporate disclosure. "Wishing you a meaningful celebration in whatever form is most authentic to your beliefs and traditions during this winter solstice period" is the sound of a committee. Pick a warm, plain phrase. Add a real sentence about the relationship. Done.

The mash-up. "Merry Chrismukkah," "Diwali-mas," any portmanteau that tries to cover bases. Unless it's a long-running family joke between people who actually celebrate both, the mash-up reads as a slightly desperate attempt to be clever. Wish each tradition properly, or wrap neutrally.

Generic optimism for someone in the worst year of their life. "Wishing you a magical holiday season" to the person who lost their wife in November is a small unkindness, even when meant well. Name the hardness lightly, hold space, don't reach for cheer they can't meet you in.

"Hope this year was your best yet!" A common opener for the family-card paragraph that tells anyone who had a hard year that the writer either doesn't know or doesn't care. Replace with "hope this year had as many good days as bad ones, and that next year is gentler," or just skip the year-summary frame entirely.

One practical note before the closer. The reason corporate and family cards underperform isn't usually the words. It's the format. A paper card passed around the office misses remote teammates, part-time staff, the contractor down the hall, the colleague on parental leave. By the time it makes its lap, half the signatures are scrawls and the people who'd have written the lines that mattered weren't asked. (When I needed a card to actually reach all forty-three people on my old team last December, I sent one of these holiday ecards and let everyone write their own line in their own voice, then scheduled delivery for the morning of the 23rd. The colleague who celebrates Diwali wrote from her register. The teammate celebrating Hanukkah wrote from his. The friend whose mother had died in November wrote whatever was true.) If you want to start one, the practical mechanics for a wide group are at group ecards with multiple signers.

One last thing, off-topic and maybe just for me. The shoebox I mentioned at the top? I went through it again the night before I wrote this, and I realized I'd kept exactly two cards from the same person across a decade. One was a half-blank Christmas card from 2017 with my brother's wife's handwriting on the back saying "I hope this is the year you stop saying yes to Christmas Eve dinner at your aunt's place." The other was a folded sheet of legal paper, undated, that said "this year is going to be the hard one. Call me when you want to." I have no idea what was happening at her end when she wrote either of them. I just know I kept them, and the ones from the same year with eight signatures and a glittery sticker went in the recycling around February. The point I'm making, badly, is that the format is mostly a delivery vehicle, and the line that actually gets kept is the one with a real person inside it. Write that line and the envelope barely matters.