I find it sad and amusing at the same time when Christmas rolls around to hear those inside and outside of Christianity pontificate on the pagan origins the holiday as though that somehow that ought to take away from my celebration.
I know Jesus wasn’t born on December 25th. Everyone knows Jesus was born May 5, 4 BC, right? What? That’s not right either? How do you know? Oh, so nobody really knows what day Jesus was born on or even what year? Well, the same can be said for most figures in human history.
And since I don’t know the day, but wish to party nonetheless, does it really matter that much to you which day I pick? Not to this reveler in peppermint, pine, and presents.
This brings me back to the sad part. Those most concerned with the date, do not profess or profess only by national association any connection to Christianity, yet they are killing each other shopping, jovially spouting Merry Christmas, and taking the day off.
I wonder are they celebrating the solstice and Twelfth Night as the Celts and Norse, or are they co-opting the Christian version? Just what are they celebrating? A governmental decree? Where’s your President wreath or Congress cane? Maybe a hypocrite ornament is more in order.
Don’t be disappointed if I mar your Hallmark moment by having one heck of a borrowed holiday. I celebrate Jesus’ birth every single day, but on December 25th, I put on my jingle bells, eat some more turkey, hunt some mistletoe with a pretty girl, and have a big ole time before love, joy, and peace go out of season again. I do miss the holiday music though.
My nursing mentor used to tell me, “Some people wouldn’t be happy with Jesus on a mule.” Seems they aren’t with him in a manager either. Well, have a cup of cheer and get over it—I’m partying!