How I got my Christmas back
BackMany years ago, and a long way from here, I was a member of a fundamental church that tended to paddle against the mainstream.
It was not necessarily because of its doctrinal positions that it began, at some point, to dismantle some of the beliefs I had held about Christmas since my childhood. But it was where the trouble started.
It was there I got the small shock of hearing that the visit by the wise men likely did not occur until the Christ child was about two years old. There is some rather sophisticated calculation behind this conclusion, which I will not go into, yet.
But the part that really left me nonplussed was when it was stated that Jesus likely was not even born in December. The reasoning, as I recall it, depended on the habits of Middle Eastern shepherds, like the ones who visited the baby Jesus. Winter north of the equator was the time to bring the sheep in from pasture to the fold. Forage would be too scarce to support grazing and shepherds were not likely to be "abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night."
Almost any other period, especially from about mid-April to October, would make more sense as a time for Jesus to be born, it was said. This seemed to me to make Christmas a terribly awkward occasion.
Imagine going to this much trouble for someone's birthday only to find it will not yet be for months - not that you can figure out exactly when it is.
Worse, this meant that all those depressing and irritating things those insufferable people were saying about the origins of the holiday season had to be true. It all had to have started as a pagan celebration of the beginning of the end of shortening daylight - or, at least, something to brighten up the shortest and gloomiest days of the year. And so later Christians must have overlaid the occasion of Christ's birth upon it to help neutralize pagan influence.
But Christmas crow doesn't seem nearly as appealing as genuine Christmas turkey. I could not leave the idea alone: Could there be a way to legitimize the Christmas of my youth, without rationalizing - to redeem this time of year and wipe away the stigma of a borrowed holiday?
There was. And the first step back to a real Christmas for me came when I heard an evangelist point out that at no other time of year was the name of our spiritual leader more widely publicized.
And, I realized, no public relations campaign on record has had its staying power. Efforts to re-brand the season as "the winter holidays" have been as popular as West Nile virus. People still insist on it by name: Christmas.
Of course, a key was getting to know something about the people represented by the celebration.
Whether it was April or August or December, something otherworldly and world-changing occurred one night in the hardscrabble countryside just at the edge of the Judean backwater town of Bethlehem.
A discreet and remarkably compliant Nazarene stonecutter had taken a calculated risk by bringing his pregnant young wife along on a journey there to fulfill a governmental obligation.
The strange and wonderful cause of her pregnancy was understood by the couple, but the neighbors were a different matter. Joseph apparently could not trust the midwives of Nazareth to deliver Mary's baby; he would hazard the job himself.
The birth was a quiet and private affair in the mud barn to which they resorted after finding Bethlehem's inns infamously full.
But here is where it got interesting. It seemed that in the spiritual realm, that territory we call heaven, a celebration had broken out - one that could not be contained therein, vast though it may be.
Now, the shepherds in the countryside near Bethlehem may have been nomads, Bedouins whose sheep may have been kept near the camp on a cold December night. A night watch would have been essential; wolves and thieves do not hibernate and sheep cannot guard themselves.
Wolves, thieves and cold would quickly be forgotten, of course, as the unearthly came to Earth to herald the arrival of the pivotal personality of history. Even the sheep might have been forgotten before the shouting, celebrating angels had finished with their instructions to the thunderstruck shepherds. After all, the flock, energized by the commotion, probably was busy setting land speed records.
And so, because they couldn't watch sheep they couldn't catch, the shepherds set off. No way would they miss out on what they had been told and, as for keeping it to themselves, forget it. There's nothing like being the first to know important news.
As for the wise men, it is calculated that they were about two years late for Christ's birth based on information they were to give to Herod, the Roman-appointed ruler in Jerusalem. But to accept this without question would first require us to factor out any human drama or intrigue.
Herod, for his part, had been taken aback at the behavior of the Magi. Although they obviously were seasoned royal court officials, the wise men had been abrupt. They fired off questions about a new king and seemed to expect that everyone had seen the star that signified his birth. And they clearly were chagrined not to find this little king enthroned in Jerusalem.
Herod could scarcely have been more disquieted and he was at a terrible disadvantage. Of course, he did not want to let on to the Magi - these men were powerful - and so sent the help scrambling to gather information.
Imagining himself the crafty one, Herod engaged his guests in small talk. About how long ago did they first see this star?, he asked, nonchalantly.
At this the wise men - and there may have been three of them - must have exchanged glances.The birth of the King had been important enough for them to journey a long distance, bearing costly gifts. But, here they were, there was no child to be seen, this guy was in charge, he wasn't a Jew (Herod was an Idumean) and he didn't know diddly.
One Magus cleared his throat and said, oh, about two years ago, I think. The other wise men nodded, yes, two years. Herod nodded along, trying to appear thoughtful. As for the Magi, they had to be beyond any doubt about who they were dealing with.
Did they tell Herod the truth? Would you?
And so it may have been that, after they headed for Bethlehem - perhaps bundled against a biting December wind - they saw the star again, directing them to the outskirts of town. And as they followed its light, maybe they crossed paths with some curiously animated and giddy nomad shepherds. And the Magi may have urged their mounts to go a bit faster after catching snippets of conversation about angels, a manger and a baby King.
Logical? Likely? Maybe not. But, are we talking about something that seems logical and likely, in the first place?
So I say, have your egg nog and fruitcake this Christmas season along with the understanding that its traditions likely are there for good reasons.
Because I care for neither, you may have my egg nog and fruitcake, too. I insist.
And Merry Christmas.
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