Why celebrating Christmas pisses Jesus off

Posted by Jesus on December 25, 2007

There are few things more likely to get your soul immediately and irrevocably damned to the everlasting torment of Hell than celebrating Christmas. I know there are millions of people out there who believe that Christmas is the anniversary of my birth in a manger in Bethlehem, and that gifts are given in the tradition of the Three Wise Men doing the same at my birth; I know that you like to set up nativity scenes and talk about how devout you all are for supposedly remembering what you think are true Christian rituals. How would you like it if half of the planet called you on your least favorite day of the year and wished you a happy birthday, despite the fact that your birthday is half a year away? After a few hundred years you’d want to damn some people to Hell too.

Every Christmas is the same. You go out and spend a huge chunk of your savings buying things that you and your friends don’t need just so you can participate in a shared societal psychosis with your loved ones. Every once in a while you come up for air, emerging ragged and run down from the corporate cash sink-hole only to delude yourself about what it all really means. You talk about giving, the spirit of charity, and the reason you’re all putting yourself through the consumerist grinder of the holiday shopping season. It’s about family, you explain, and remembering what’s important. It’s about Jesus Christ…

It’s about me, huh? Exactly what part of Christmas is about me?

The Romans, who were pagan and who are virtually all burning even now in the deepest and oldest vats of molten lead in Hell, had a celebration they called Saturnalia. Beginning at the mid-point in December and concluding on your current Christmas day, this celebration is most noted for its absolute suspension of law. Courts were closed, no one could be arrested, and nothing one’s sordid mind could conjure was out of bounds. Groups of individuals trolled the streets drunk and naked, sex and rape were everywhere, and when the drunken orgy of sin concluded one preselected member of each community was tracked down and brutally murdered by Roman authorities. The sacrifice of an innocent person at the conclusion of Saturnalia was thought to purge the forces of evil and darkness from their lives.

Christianity was spreading slowly then. The Church was working hard to gather new members, but progress was stunted by my religion’s intolerance to drunken orgies, man sex, lawlessness, and some forms of human sacrifice. A decision was made to import Saturnalia into Christianity in an attempt to bring with it the pagan masses. Christian leaders chose to assume the festival’s concluding day, December 25th, as the day of the birth of me, Jesus Christ of Nazareth. This decision permanently altered both the traditional pagan Saturnalia and the newly coined “Christ-Mass”, and neither of them positively. The Christian Church introduced me, your personal Lord and Saviour, to the pagan masses and brought them into the Church, but by allowing most of Saturnalia to continue virtually unchanged also gave the early congregation tacit permission to continue reveling in the lawlessness and drunken stupor that came with a holiday rife with sex, booze, public nudity, and singing naked in the streets. We would later come to know this act as caroling.

Of course your modern Christmas celebration has very little in common with its Saturnalia heritage, having been molded to suit the needs of a few dedicated interests. The filthy sex and a portion of the drunkenness has been removed, and there are no longer human sacrifices in most places. This was true of Christmas in the late 17th century, when what would become the United States was still composed of English settlements in New England. Your most distant continental relatives, the same people who originally brought with them to The New World the Church’s official stance on the adopted, modified, and utterly made-up Christmas holiday, quite literally banned the celebration not long after their arrival. Your nation was basically founded by a bunch of people who left England to escape a Church which loosened both its morals and its blouse to allow any pagan with a job and working sex organs to suckle from her teat. The most traditional Christmas one can have in the United States is no Christmas at all.

But let’s say you’re willing to ignore all of the pagan origins of Christmas, and that you’re content in reviving a holiday your nation’s original founders despised. You’re going to celebrate Christmas as it exists now, not how those pagans and unchristian people did it in the past. You understand what it’s all about; you’ll put up a tree and exchange modest gifts with close family, and you’ll remember that, most importantly, it’s a time to celebrate the birth of me, Jesus Christ, even if you know that I was born earlier in the year. How enlightened you must feel. You’re still going to Hell, and I’ll tell you why.

Trees have been worshiped since early man. Anyone foolish enough not to believe in my Dad could just as easily worship a shrub as a cow or a rock star. The Christian Church, again in recruit mode, adopted the practice of bringing a piece of nature inside one’s home and decorating it. They redirected the prayers of the heathens toward me instead of the tree, but somehow the original idol itself stuck around. How many of you are going to haul your false idol out to the curb when you’re done shoving into the face of Your Lord on what you run around proclaiming to be His holiday?

Frigga, the Norse goddess of love and beauty, had a son who she loved so much that she went to every plant and animal on Earth, securing their promises not to hurt him for any reason. Loki, a sneaky, evil spirit, found the one thing she’d missed. He made an arrow out of mistletoe and tricked Frigga’s other son, the blind one, into shooting his nearly invulnerable brother to death. Frigga cried, and her tears are represented by white berries on the plant. Not long after, the dead son came back to life and Frigga, being the goddess of love and beauty, made the mistletoe another of her symbols, promising to bestow a kiss upon anyone who passes below it. Fast forward to Rome, mid December. Saturnalia. No law. Orgies on main street. I’ll let you guess how they incorporated Frigga into their parties, but it’s safe to conclude that ultimately, the origins of mistletoe in any capacity are abhorrent enough in the eyes of The Lord to get you kicked out of Paradise.

But what of gifts, you ask? They’re pure, aren’t they? They come from the manger, where Three Wise Men gave yours truly some pretty expensive trinkets. I suppose it’s safe to think that, so long as you’re willing to face your vilest nightmares for the rest of eternity. You see, giving gifts at Christmas is also rooted in that most favorite pagan holiday, Saturnalia. When the Church adopted the pagan custom they reattributed the gift-giving to an old Bishop who had helped write the New Testament named Nicholas. The Church kicked back into acquisition mode a few years later and set their sights on the Germans. They worshiped people like Frigga and Thor. Another of their gods was a guy named Woden, who grew a long white beard and rode a horse through the heavens in the late Autumn.

“Sure! We know that guy,” said the Church. “We call him Nick!”

Over the years Woden and Nicholas merged, the latter finally winning out with a decisive Canonization in the 19th century. In 1931 the Coca-Cola Corporation paid an artist to depict Santa in a most Coke-like fashion. He even got a red suit. So when you give your children presents from Santa on Christmas, do you think they know you’re making them complicit in the practice of a number of pagan and corporate concoctions? Do you think they know they’ll go to Hell for that?

And where in the Bible are you ever told to celebrate my birth, anyway? You’re told to keep the Sabbath holy, which you almost universally fail to do, and you’re told to remember and celebrate my death, which you generally pay little heed. You are not ever told to celebrate my birth, and even if you were it wouldn’t be at the end of December. The truth is that you’re all celebrating a corporate-driven concoction of pagan rituals laced with the most effective concentrated marketing campaign ever known to man, and that the Church paved the way for you to get where you are today.

So did you wake up early to exchange gifts? Thinking like a rational Christian, how many sins did you commit today, and how many of them were unforgivable in the name of the Lord? How many Norse or pagan gods did you allow into your home to share in your celebration? Did you ever stop to think that maybe Jesus just wanted to shoot a good round of golf this morning instead of being sent random platitudes from families wrapped up in the full regalia of sin?

Of course you didn’t. And tomorrow, when you’re getting in line to return your DVD’s and spend your gift cards, remember the true meaning of Christmas. You’re at the tail end of a long history of pagan rituals being merged to form the most corrupt and anti-Christian force the world may ever know, and your involvement demands your removal from Heaven’s consideration list. It’s an unfortunate and bitter end, but your complicity is unforgivable.

I might reconsider tomorrow, because today has just been a really difficult one for me. You’d better watch out over the next few days, though, because this just might be it. This just might be the Christmas that I throw my hands up and just damn every last one of you.

Happy freakin’ birthday to me, huh?

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