Well, this is kind of hard to say out loud, but frankly, Christmas sucks. At least what we’ve done to it.
Bear with me, I’ll try to explain.
Most have heard the stories that there were Pagan holidays that left people with two weeks and nothing to do, and relegated folks to stumbling about in the streets; drunken, foolhardy souls, ruining it for the rest of us. Then someone came up with the “great idea” that maybe if we pinned the celebration of Jesus’s birth to that time of year, perhaps it would create a more somber mood amongst the crowded masses.
You’ve probably heard that Jesus certainly could not have been born on the 25th of December, they even have star scrolls that they can show you, to prove that it must have been in July or something, based on the position in the sky of the star that the three wise men followed. Stupid science!
Then you can hear the comedians joke about how Mary had to explain to her husband that she was pregnant, and he was supposed to believe that it was the holy child of God…
All in fun I suppose.
Then there’s the Christian folk who have decided that if they try to make their kids believe in Santa Claus, then they come to find out that he is not real, later in life, they will surely think that their parents lied to them about Jesus too, so Santa is off limits.
And you hear the folks who complain that you can’t even say Merry Christmas anymore.
And it’s true, especially if you are trying to sell cars or cell phones or diamonds.
Who ruined Christmas? What happened to Christmas as we knew it as children? Has Ebenezer Scrooge, or the Grinch, indeed stolen Christmas?
This is just my opinion…
I think that Christmas is still alive.
Oh sure, there is a modicum of truth to all that crap above, but 2000 years after the whole thing started, does it really matter when the North Star was REALLY lit up in the sky?
I like my Jesus wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. With no room at the Inn, it has to be cold outside. Snowing, preferably, please.
I think that Jesus would like it if he knew that we celebrate his birth with snowy scenes of ice-skaters and horse drawn carriages, the most noble scenes of family gathering. Chestnuts roasting over an open fire, carolling around the neighborhood, lighting candles in the window, draping our sills with chintzy lights and decking our halls with boughs of holly, donning our gay apparel.
I think it may have even been Jesus’ idea to hire out a fat, roly poly gent, in a fuzzy red suit, to pass out gifts celebrating his birth, to make the kids with a 2 minute attention span sit up and take notice. …
I was in a school the other day, and the teacher was having some trouble with the kids, so she told them she was going to pick up the phone and call Santa, and you know what those kids did right then? They straightened up. Had she said she was going to call Jesus they might have kept right carrying on. Santa is great marketing. He’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice… and he never rode a camel, he rides a sleigh driven by eight tiny reindeer.
They put out the decorations before Halloween now. Oh well, so what. Yeah, it irks me. They take Christmas songs and turn the lyrics into words that can sell cars. I personally believe that there may be a special place in hell for the people who came up with the best buy commercial that says, sung to the tune of Herald of the bells, Get him a TV, get him a TV, ding dong. Yeah, Ding Dong.
One of the car companies has a herald of the bells rendition where they tout their 48,000 mile warranty.
And surely Christmas is the season of love. And of course, if you really love her, you will show her by purchasing her diamonds this year, because every kiss begins with Kay, and he bought it at Jerod. Please.
Christmas hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s what we’ve done with Christmas that really needs to be looked at. My family quit giving store bought presents years ago, and have enjoyed the best Christmases ever since. Sure, we can bake something or make a special music playlist, write a crafty poem or make a scrapbook page in honor of someone. But no more going to Walmart and picking up a pile of crap to trade with your relatives for their pile of crap. Well, except for the kids, they still get the pile of crap.
I still hear the bells, I still see the ice skaters, and I have never had a chestnut that was roasted over an open fire, but I beleive in them. My parents never told me, even at age 58, that there is no Santa. They let me believe as I wish. And I believe that Christmas is peppermint, ribbon candy, cookies, sparkly lights, pine trees draped in tinsel, but most important, the getting together of family and friends and celebrating the very thing that Jesus himself professed.
It’s all about the hugs, all about missing those who have left us, all about cherishing what is obviously too short a time together here on earth. Hold those who are dear to you extra close this year, because that is what Christmas is all about. Light a candle, remember those who are no longer with us, and do what Jesus would do.
Have some cookies and milk…
and love one another.