Christmas. A holiday that has lost much of its meaning
over the years. What was once an ancient celebration honouring the holiday of Saturnalia
(it’s not actually Jesus’ birthday as many would have us think), and is now a
feast of consumerism, sensationalism and excess. Which is certainly apt
considering that the Roman pagan Solstice celebration was actually a week long
period of lawlessness involving rituals of cannibalism, pillaging and culminating in sacrifice. Nice.
In Christian doctrine, Christmas celebrates the birth of the Christian god
who came to rescue mankind from the “curse of the Torah.” (Gal 3:13). It
is a 24-hour declaration that Judaism is no longer valid. It doesn’t
really make sense, yet people latch onto this holiday and its traditions for
dear life. I among them. Call me a heathen but I love Christmas. I love the festive cheer, the colours, the decorations
and the general feeling of bonhomie that issues throughout the nation. I think
Christmas has mostly lost its religious subtext anyway – how many people go to
Mass on Christmas morning?
Who really is bothered by the holiday’s nefarious origins?
To me, it’s a compelling excuse to gather with family, to eat, to drink and to
spend time together in a world that is so demanding that for many families,
this is the only time everyone is under one roof. We give gifts, just as
the so-called Magi presented our Lord. To me it’s an opportunity to palpably
show family and friends that they are loved.
In this vein we salubriously ply ourselves with
traditional confections and don funny hats. Yule tide means so many different things
to so many different people, but the central theme (in contemporary times
anyway) is always love. A fellowship of humankind. So I’ll take my pagan tree,
sing my pagan songs, enjoy my pagan turkey and wait for the fat pagan man to
come down the chimney and give me pagan presents J.
On that note folks...
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