I don’t want to ruin your Christmas or convince you to throw out your coffee mugs or wall hangings that say otherwise but let’s be honest; Jesus is not the reason for the season.
This isn’t a rant about how we’ve commercialized the holiday and how we’ve left Christ out of Christmas.
Here’s the deal. Jesus was doing fine. Seriously.
From his place of perfect love as the mirror image of the Father with their abundant love for the divine Self spilling out all over everything as the Holy Spirit, he was not missing a big event at the winter solstice. Or at any other solstice. He wasn’t bored or Christmas would happen in the Spring and we’d call it Christmarch Break, we’d all go to Florida to celebrate it and it would be 10 days long and we’d have palm trees instead of evergreens, beer kegs instead of mulled cider and wet tshirt contests instead of mistletoe.
The reason for Christmas has always been – here comes the heresy – you and me. We’re the reason for the season.
Deal with it. It’s not about a petulant God in need of his own season in order to be happy.
You and I, we need the Christmas event. The first gift has always been for us, not for him. The first invitation to the event was given to our reps – smelly, lower middle class shepherds. Jesus didn’t come for pretty people whose lives are neatly tied up in bows and ribbons and shiny wrapping paper. Jesus’ first day is a sign of what he’s all about – he comes into the crappy messes we’ve made and he makes himself at home and begins to recreate our lives from the inside out. He comes illegitimately – he comes in poverty and obscurity. He doesn’t come for recognition. He gave up his entitlement.
That’s what Christmas is all about. A God who meets us where we are because we keep getting ourselves lost looking for him.