Why I Don't Celebrate Christmas - Fiction

Grandma died when I was 18 years old, on Christmas day. I never really got to know her well, since the family had pretty much kept their distance from her due to her 'weird religion.' I grew up unchurched, as they say, and never had any interest in religion of any kind. Today, however, I practice the same religion as grandma did. Let me explain to you how that happened, and why I no longer celebrate Christmas. When grandma died it was determined that the house and all its contents would be auctioned off. She lived in a humble little bungalow, not unlike the others on her street. Nothing she owned was of any value to the family, and I got the dubious assignment of going through her personal items to determine what might be sold and what should be thrown away. Needless to say, the last thing that I wanted to do was to go through an old lady's things, grandma or not. But, as I wasn't given a choice in the matter, I soon got to work. As I was going through her nightstand drawers, I found what must have been her study Bible. The reason I say that is because certain passages were highlighted in pink, yellow and green, from Genesis through Revelation. To be honest, I had never even looked at a Bible before. But I was curious as to what had spurred such an intense interest in it for her. I had to admit, the few experiences that I did have with my grandmother were always pleasant. Of all my relatives, she was always the kindest. She seemed to have a glow about her that I found peaceful, comforting. Anyway, with no one else around and having nothing else scheduled for the day, I decided to take a little break. With Bible still in hand, I opened it to the book of Matthew. I started reading from chapter one onward and before I knew it, I had reached the end of his gospel. Naturally, I had heard of Jesus through the grapevine, as it were. Some of my friends called themselves Christian, though I found it rather strange that they really didn't appear to be any different from my other friends. But the Jesus that I had just read about in grandma's Bible was entirely different from what I assumed he would be. As a young person, I took pride in staying well-informed as to current events and had an avid interest in history. Starting with his birth, these are some of the discrepancies I discovered between the Biblical Jesus and what I now like to call the pop-culture or Hollywood Jesus. 1. According to Matthew's account, Jesus was born when the shepherds were still living outside with their flocks. Being familiar with weather patterns in Israel in late December, that it is the rainy, cold season, and that traditionally shepherds had wintered their flocks long before then, I concluded that Jesus could not have been born on December 25th (I later learned that many scholars believe that he was likely born early October). 2. I thought about the nativity scenes that can be found at many homes and churches. The Bible record shows that by the time the Magi reached the child, he was no longer in a manger, but living in a house, and that he was no longer a newborn babe, as Herod's mad edict to destroy the child included infant boys up to two years old, according to the timing that he had ascertained from the Magi. Now, I'm no scholar, though I'd always done well in school. But these things I deduced for myself at my very first reading, though additional research since has greatly enhanced and reinforced my understanding of the events surrounding Jesus' birth. But there were other things that Matthew had to say about Jesus that also caught my eye. For example, Jesus said that his followers should be peaceful, even doing good to their enemies. I began to meditate on the two world wars of the 20th century, fought among so-called Christian nations. I asked myself: If all of the Christians in Germany had refused to support Hitler's rise to power, would the holocaust and WWII have occurred? And what about the thirty years war in Europe? And the hostilities between Protestant Christians and Catholic Christians in Ireland? Not to mention the fact the Jesus I was reading about didn't seem the least bit interested in bingo, or church bake sales, or money at all for that matter. And nowhere in the account could I find any evidence that he or any of his followers ever dressed in outlandish outfits. As I read on, I tried to find some evidence, any evidence, that at least some of his followers celebrated his birth. Nada. Instead, Jesus seemed keenly interested in his disciples recognizing his death, a concept I found quite odd at the time. Now, of course, I get it. It was his death as a man, not his birth as a baby, that saves us from our sins and opens the door to eternal life.   Looking back, I understand now why grandma refused to celebrate the holidays with us. She simply could find no evidence in her well-worn Bible that the celebrations of Christmas, Easter, and others were things that Jesus, her savior and king, wanted her to do. Since then, I have done much research on the subject of holidays and have found that most of the customs associated with them come from pagan rituals and concepts, such as the Easter bunny, Santa Claus and so on.   Grandma has long been dead, but the memory of her and what she stood for still burns in my heart. Though I didn't really know her well, I feel as though I did. At the very least I can say that I identify with her. Someday, when all things have been set straight on this planet by means of the One whom she put faith in, I hope to see my grandmother again; young, healthy and happy.