The scriptural basis for Christmas on December 25

Once in a while, most bloggers depart from the topics of their blogs. So this post has nothing to do with shopaholism. I make some claims that are not based on historical evidence. But I wanted to pass along this info, which was transmitted to me as oral lore a long time ago from I don’t remember who, because it is not well known and risks being forgotten.

I have an atheist friend who is very dear to me. He used to say to me, “You know, Jesus was really born in the spring when the shepherds are out in the hills.” “You know, Christmas was really an adaptation of the pagan feast Saturnalia.” And so on. But after I explained this to him, he stopped.

Yeah, I understand, it’s obvious that pious hymns like “In the Bleak Midwinter” that say “earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone” do not accurately reflect the likely circumstances of Christ’s birth. It has more to do with Christ’s cousin St. John the Baptist, whose mother was St. Elizabeth, the sister of Christ’s mother St. Mary the Virgin, who, tradition says, were both daughters of St. Anne and St. Joachim.

But the date of Christmas has nothing to do with the climatic circumstances of Christ’s birth. It has to do with symbolizing the meaning of two Bible passages, Luke 1:26-28 and John 3:30.

First, St. Luke writes:

In the sixth month [of Elizabeth’s pregnancy] the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary.

So we know that Christ and St. John the Baptist were about six months apart in age.

Then, according to St. John the Evangelist, when St. John the Baptist and Jesus both were doing public ministry, John the Baptist said about Jesus,

He must increase, but I must decrease.

And thus, birth of John the Baptist is celebrated on June 24, around the summer solstice, when the length of the day begins to decrease.

And the birth of Jesus Christ is celebrated on December 25, around the winter solstice, when the length of the day begins to increase.

The dates of the feast days are a symbolic illustration of what John said about Jesus, that Christ’s ministry was rising just as John was about to get in trouble and be executed.

It’s sort of like the birthday of Queen Elizabeth, whose real date of birth is April 21, but whose official birthday is celebrated in June when the weather is likely to be good in the United Kingdom. (But that is not symbolic, it’s for convenience.)

Celebrations of the solstices go very far back in human history, long before the Romans who ruled the area that gave rise to Christianity. So one could perhaps claim that Christians were trying to appropriate these days for themselves. But the scriptural reason Christians observe the births of Christ and the Baptizer at the solstices is because of these two scriptural passages.

In short, John and Jesus were about six months apart in age, and their feastdays are on the solstices as a symbolic illustration of what John said about their ministries’ growth and decline. And this is based on Bible verses from the New Testament.

Christ’s money

As you probably have noticed, the header on my blog shows three magi (mages, Wise Men) happily hustling along with their gifts for the young Christ, who is out of camera view to the right with his mom.

The traditional Christmas nativity scene or creche is a mashup of the story in the Gospel of Luke (the manger, the angels and the shepherds) and the story of the Wise Men in the Gospel of Matthew. The Wise Men probably showed up months or even years after the birth of Christ. That is why King Herod ordered all the boys in the region two years and younger to be slaughtered. It had to take some time for the rumors of Christ’s birth to travel across the land, for the Magi to do their astrological calculations, for them to travel to meet Herod, and then to find Jesus.

The gifts of the Wise Men are now considered quaint, if not actually incomprehensible. Gold famously was called a “barbarous relic” by the economist John Maynard Keynes, and relatively few people have seen it in the coin form that was probably given to Christ and his family. Myrrh comes in hard little brown chips a little paler than instant coffee crystals. Frankincense is small firm irregular blobs shaped like Nerds candies, but they are the tan, slightly translucent shade of boogers. Pure myrrh and frankincense aren’t self-lighting like incense sticks and cones; they are resins that need to be placed on burning charcoal to make fragrant smoke.

However, like salt or peppercorns used as money in other times and places, all three of these gifts met the characteristics of money: Portable, divisible, durable, fungible, and a store of value. These substances are completely useless to a child — but extremely useful in funding the care of a child. Indeed, some have speculated that the gifts of the Magi were used to support the family during their years in Egypt. So what the mages were giving was money.

God is spirit, as St. John writes, but he also was a little kid. It’s dreadfully expensive to raise a child, even when there are no iPads to buy them, because the poorer you are, the higher the proportion of income you spend on food, so that having to feed another mouth, even a young one, can be quite a blow. The wise men may have been a little strange about astrology, but they knew about money.

Unless one belongs to a church that preaches prosperity theology, one hears among people of faith a concerted attempt to make one feel guilty about one’s comfort. One cannot be a servant to both God and money, and the love of money is a root of evil, and one should not store earthly treasures. Hermit saints like Seraphim of Sarov and Mary of Egypt who lived in destitution are held up as examples.

But this kind of preaching is as unbalanced as prosperity theology. We are called to be “as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.” It is irresponsible not to manage one’s money carefully when one has children. In this era of modern medicine where people grow old slowly and die even more slowly, it is irresponsible not to save up money for the time of disability that most people face in old age.

What is more productive than austerity preaching is to teach ascetic questioning, to challenge ourselves: Do I really need both television and internet? Do I really need clothes I do not wear? Do I need a new computer? Do I need a little gadget singing in my ear all the time? Do I need that bag of flour? Do I need that bar of soap? Do I need that pencil? Do I need those plain cotton underpants? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe we should go commando!

Some traditions call the Wise Men kings, although there is no scriptural evidence that they were kings, or even that there were exactly three of them. What is clear is that they were pretty wealthy. And this shows in the mosaic header I use on my blog: They are richly dressed in heavy, multicolored robes and red Phrygian caps; they carry fancy containers and not simple earthen pots; and they are depicted in a scene of luxury, a dreamy golden sky with delicious fruit hanging down from date trees. (If you have never eaten a whole date and not one of those crumbly pebbles, you have missed a real treat.)

Critically, above all, they are offering their gifts to God, the King of All, who normally doesn’t need anything, but as a baby desperately needs material support.

And, as Christ says, “Inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me” and “whoever gives one of these little ones only a cup of cold water in the name of a disciple, assuredly, I say to you, he shall by no means lose his reward.” When we look into one another’s eyes, we are seeing God in them. So in the midst of the commercialism and greed of the Christmas season, I want to affirm that in the spirit of self-questioning, the act of gift-giving, and enjoying doing so, is nothing to be ashamed of and can indeed be an expression of respect to God.

We, too, are spirit, and we, too, are flesh. We are both physical and nonphysical. As was God. So let us take an attitude neither of unrestrained materialism or unthinking renunciation, but instead follow a truer path of asceticism, which is questioning, and challenging, and taking action.

Christ was a baby who needed milk