Thursday, December 11, 2014

Something on my Mind: Who Stole Christmas? (Part Two)

Not sure how many ordinary thinking people I “converted” last week with my call to consider the reason for the season. That reason is to celebrate the coming of the Christ-child over 2,000 years ago.

And I'm not too hung up as to how exactly you choose to celebrate it. That's really none of my business, nor should the way I celebrate it be yours—and therein lies the catch. If I want to say “Merry Christmas,” have a nativity scene on my front lawn, and take time out to read the historical account of the greatest birth ever (my words, I agree), why can't I? Why should I fear the PCG (politically-correct gestapo) shutting me and my celebration down?

In all fairness, I see those who embrace a traditional view of Christmas are very much on the rational side of this discussion.

I want to be fair to the readers: Many of you may not be familiar with the biblical account, or worse, have only a slight grasp of some version of it. Thus, I will set the Scriptures aside and look at history itself. No fear from here with that approach. Believers love the way history and geography, biology and chemistry—for starters—support a biblical worldview. (“Nough already...)

There may be holes in your history and gaps in your geography, so let's take a reasonable, rational look at the matter. And I promise that the text book(s) we could draw from will have no religious overtones to them.

Outside sources tell us of a special birth in a not-so special place, near the one of two towns in Israel called Bethlehem—a real, geographical place on a map. It deals with people whose names you may or may not know, namely, Caesar Augustus, Quirinius (a regional, elected Roman official), and, nearly two years later, Herod the Great—three historical people in a real world context.

We wouldn't dream of erasing them from our history books, would we? That's unthinkable. So why are we so quick to throw Jesus under the proverbial bus? He's mentioned in the same record as the other two; selective history is very dangerous thing, you know.

Our second history and geography lesson likewise tells us of an entourage—call it a caravan, if you will—of astronomer-kings who saw something unique in the sky and in the extant Hebrew writings. I suggest their entourage was very large (forget the false notion of three wisemen): scores of servants, support staff, and soldiers, plus many other sky-gazers themselves. A long journey demands a lot clothes, food, gifts, and protection.

They, from their home land that we now call Iraq (the most prevalent country in the Bible, next to Israel), had enough information and insight to travel hundreds of kilometres for months on end, as they followed that unique star. Why would they ever make such a (bizarre) trip if the young child was not significant? What did those readers of the sky and holy writings know that we don't seem to know?

Do we disregard their record, too? Do we re-write that chapter of history, just to suit ourselves? Hardly. So again, why are we selective with Jesus' birth and early years? We really need to let go of emotions and fears when it comes to Christmas, you know.

We should be consistent in our assessment of Christmas here: Give it the season the credibility it deserves. If there was no authentic historical birth of the “Christ” of Christmas, why celebrate in half-measures?

Can we talk about chronology, while we're at it? Every time you fill in a cheque, flip a calendar, or have a birthday, you are giving token acknowledgement to the fact that time, schedules, even currency is based on that special birth.

We speak of BC (“before Christ”) and AD (Anno Domini, “the year of our Lord”), corresponding roughly to before His birth and after His death—emphasis on the word “roughly.” So that means you actually acknowledge that special birth every time you write the year down.

However, even that is changing, as we get more and more “liberated” from the so-called bondage of religion, we refer to events in terms of [B]CE ([Before]Common Era).

Be that as it may, I suggest to you that we must wake up to the fact that—even without religion, Bible, tradition, and faith—there was a special birth, of a special person, with a special (and timeless) message, that we should take time out to celebrate.

You want a tree, go ahead. You want to put lights on your house, fine with me. You want to take time out from the demands of life and celebrate the season with family and friends, please ask me over—I love a good mug of egg nog and I play a mean game of Boggle (something I said the same thing last year).

Just don't ignore the reason for the season. You might say that it's either Christmas or Christ-miss, right?

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