It is Christmas and the cold world jangles attempting joy. This is a season of blurred lines: God appears out of character in a baby boy body, a fat elf descends down a hundred million too tight chimneys with gifts for girls and boys, many of whom have too much already. The elf’s conveyance of choice for the planetary excursion is a sled pulled by deer. Can you imagine the law suits over torn and damaged roof shingles? Over the course of his trip he drinks more milk and eats more cookies than the whole population of Luxemburg consumes in a hundred years. A year of strict dieting and exercise follows his arrival home at the North Pole.
Jolly bell ringers stand at the entrances to stores imploring us to correct economic injustice single-handedly when we need to be correcting those injustices collectively. We get sentimental about Caesar August’s bad government policy that resulted in the boy baby mentioned above being born in a barn when many are born in much worse circumstances today. We have turned angels into cute protective guardians when in the Bible they scare the hell out of everyone they met. When is the last time the words “be not afraid” have been necessary in a conversation you were having? And what’s up with bringing embalming spices to a baby shower? How rude.
This is the “tossed salad and scrambled eggs” of stories we have inherited from our European ancestors. Yuletide was their attempt to improve upon the Roman celebration of the god Saturn called Saturnalia, celebrated around December 25. Our amalgam of traditions brings comfort to an otherwise long cold dark winter season.
Let us cobble together a celebration that does not leave us tired, mean, and poor but refreshed, kind and generous.
Merry Christmas – 2018