Christus Sol Invictus

We always knew some people think in pictures, and others in words, and now we learn some people (who are probably really smart) think in “unsymbolized thinking,” though the example they give: “Should I have the ham sandwich or the roast beef?” doesn’t quite bear out my assessment of their intelligence.

All of which is to say that I’m quite sick of Christmas, and so I’m going to write about syncretism, which I’ve tried a few times to explain in words (the way that I think, though I’m going to start trying some unsymbolized thinking today, beginning with lunch).

Today was the winter solstice for the Romans, and so they had a neat festival for the Unconquered Sun who, unlike Jesus, keeps on getting resurrected every morning.  Then the calendar got fixed, the solstice moved, Constantine got religion, and the new Christians had to do something about this pagan festival that wasn’t even tied into the days getting longer anymore. So they moved Jesus’ birthday on top of Sol Invictus, and if you haven’t understood syncretism so far because you think in pictures, this is it.*

*It’s Christ’s head on Sol Invictus, in case you need words too.

Christmas Eve

There was a window halfway up the stairs, facing our driveway. On Christmas Eve I’d sit by that window, waiting for my father to get home so we could decorate the tree. One year we ran out of hooks. He took me with him down to Sharlock’s hardware store, and as we walked along the sidewalk it began to snow.

It felt so special, walking through the snow with him on Christmas Eve. Christmas was about to happen, and all was right with the world.

Can’t we just go back to St. Nicholas Day?

If only Martin Luther hadn’t come along, maybe we could have gotten away with sticking a few presents in some shoes today and calling it a holiday season – over and done with. Christmas could have just been a religious holiday, and if you didn’t care for that sort of thing, you could go to the movies.

But no. Even though he’d gotten rid of all the saints, he was still worried that St. Nicholas was interfering with the true meaning of Christmas (I guess even back then the festivities went on for weeks and weeks). So he created the Christkindl, a little blond-haired angel who brought children presents on Christmas.

And so, oddly enough, we can blame Martin Luther for the commercialization of Christmas.

But what about the Jewish Easter Bunny?

Even though I’d still really like to be Jewish, I’m not doing a very good job of abandoning my Christian brainwashing. Recently one of my lucky-to-be-Jewish friends was telling me how her grandchild asked her (sotto voice since her younger sister was listening) whether their parents were really the tooth fairy. Thinking quickly, my friend cleverly suggested she could stay up all night to find out the answer for herself.

I said, stupidly, “Does she still believe in Santa Claus?”

“Well no, she’s Jewish,” my friend responded.

And then (I still can’t believe myself) I said, “What about the Easter Bunny?”

“Well no, she’s Jewish.” (Said with admirable restraint.)

I was conflating religion and culture, much the way our son did once when asked by a friend to sing “God Bless America.”

“I don’t know the words,” he replied. “We don’t go to church.”

Actually, that’s conflating religion and patriotism (or jingoism), the unfortunate result of a Reagan-Bush childhood.

But I can’t really blame Eisenhower for my myopia. Christian holidays are so woven into our culture that it almost seems natural to imagine a secular Santa or Easter Bunny, until you remember what’s being celebrated.

It’s lucky I figured all this out today, on the second Day of Repentance. I’m going to go apologize to her so God can change his book.