There’s no doubt that Christmas is, for America, the most thoroughly celebrated holiday of the year. We close our schools for a couple of weeks. We spend an astounding amount of money on gifts that we wrap with elaborate paper and ribbons which we throw away. We spend time with family -- joyously or sacrificially. We tell our children that eight flying deer and a heavy-set guy with a big bag of toys will land on our roofs, scrunch down our chimneys (even if we don’t have one).  We convince these gullible children that this old guy will fill their stockings, which are way too small, with gifts way too large. He will do this for all the world’s children in one night. One of his deer has a red nose.

We travel -- home mostly. We deck the halls with dead (or plastic) trees festooned with lights and glitzy, traditional baubles. We decorate cookies, hang lights around our rooflines, blow up giant rent-a-Santas, and hang rings of greenery on our front doors.

If a troop of Martians landed their drones (and this year they might) during this season they’d most certainly be confused. What’s with the red-suited guys in fake white beards ringing bells outside stores -- why do people walk by and throw some coins in a pot? Even more weird is the man in a similar outfit sitting on a throne in the mall apparently fondling other people’s kids. Some of the kids cry, which is the first thing the ETs see that makes sense.

Should these spacemen do some research to figure out all this nonsense, they’d be even more muddled. What about any of this is connected to a baby born in a village just south of Jerusalem, 2,000 years ago? What’s with the accounts’ fixation on the young mother being a virgin? What about the guys on the camels? And for pity’s sake, what does this baby have to do with the pudgy guys in the red suits?

Well, no one ever said that mankind is reasonable. The best that can be said about an American Christmas is that it’s an equal-opportunity holiday. It comes in a myriad of different forms in the same span of time and in the same places which makes the traditions hard to separate into tidy file folders.  Though the holiday purports to honor the birth of Jesus, the Christmas season was a time of merriment long before Christ took on human form, before Christianity materialized. It was the time of the winter solstice, a time of darkness and cold, a time that needed a reason for a party.

The Germans are credited with the first form of this winter celebration -- decorating their homes with pine boughs. This was accompanied with partying -- the wine was ready, the meat unspoiled, and there was little farm work to be done. Put a yule log in the fireplace, drink, feast, and sing songs. The days will, at last, be getting longer.

But what about the birth of Christ? We don’t really know when that happened -- some sources say 1 B.C, some say 4 B.C. -- either way, not on 0.  The Bible doesn’t say; it does mention the leaders of the time -- Caesar Augustus, Herod, Quirinius, so we have some historical references we can consult. It isn’t until Constantine in the third century that an official date for the Jesus Christmas is set. 

We must remember that the Bible never gives us a mandate to celebrate this birth. We have specific holidays demanded of the Jews -- seven feasts throughout the year. That’s not counting Hanukkah, which celebrates the rededication of the Temple after the victory of the Maccabees in the 2nd century B.C. That feast also happens during this Christmas season which adds to the confusion. We could stir in Kwanza and Festivus if they were real holidays -- thankfully they’re not. Christians are only commanded to celebrate communion (Do this in remembrance of me.) -- but when and how often is up to each church or denomination. Christmas is not biblically required, but we love it anyway. No story is lovelier than the birth story in Luke 2.

So how do we best deal with this mongrel of a holiday?

A couple of years ago one of my Sunday School students, during a break, began to lecture the younger students about Saint Nicholas, repeating no doubt something she had learned in school. Her younger sister interrupted her and, looking at me, said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah -- but what I want to know is how did he get to be magic?”  These little girls come to church with their grandmother -- I don’t know their parents well enough to know what they tell their kids about Santa. I held my breath -- how should I answer? God came to my rescue and the lecturer carried on with her speech and the moment passed. Whew. But this little story illustrates one of the strangest things we do in the honor of Christmas -- we lie to our children.

The other thing we do is get thoroughly stressed. Since we’ve convinced our children of Santa’s magic, there’s no limit to what our kids might expect from him, and since the parents are the understudies for this jolly old elf, they have a big job to do.  There are also gifts to buy for everyone from old Aunt Martha to the paper boy. Where did this gift giving frenzy come from?

We Christians turn to the Wise Men for an explanation. They are unlikely to have arrived in Bethlehem from “the east” (Babylon?) on the night of Christ’s birth -- unless the star they followed would have given them a head start. Some believe that the birth might have taken place in the fall and, judging from astronomical calculations, might have brought them to the star, and to Jesus on the 25th. They might have presented their gifts -- gold, frankincense, and myrrh -- on that date.

 We also send Christmas cards -- an activity I’ve finally ceased to perform, and judging from my mail, so have most other folks.

And we feast and if you’re the cook, there’s work to be done. We drink too, and then there are pounds to be lost.  We go to Christmas plays featuring our children playing Mary or Joseph or one of the sheep. We drive around town enjoying the Christmas lights. We get on Zoom calls with those we miss but will not see. We sing and play Christmas carols. We manage all this no matter what interesting twists Mother Nature throws our way. It’s no wonder that we’re all stressed.

And we do this, whether or not Jesus Christ is a central part of our lives. As Christians, we are often accused of forcing our religion on the culture. I beg to differ. Christmas has room for us all. As it should. After all, Jesus Christ, the second person of the Godhead, arrived on earth as a human child for the purpose of providing salvation for all those who accept that, the greatest gift of all -- the opportunity for an eternity of joy and love and peace. “God rest ye merry gentlemen.”

Deana Chadwell is an adjunct professor and department head at Pacific Bible College https://pacificbible.edu in southern Oregon. She teaches writing, logic, and literature. She can be contacted at 1window45@gmail.com

Image: PickPik