‘T’was the Night Before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.’
The main reason for this was that most of us had tried out some of the Christmas fare at lunch while there was still time to buy more… In the end, of course, everything tasted great. But now the worry was whether there would be enough left for the intended gluttonous marathon on Christmas Day itself.
The role of the serious test driver should be admired – sought-after, even. Rather like that of the Official Taster employed by a nervous King or Queen in days of yore, lest a political rival try to poison the current office-holder. But when everyone volunteers for the position, the point is somewhat lost, don’t you think?
I sit at my computer, clearing the final couple of dozen emailed exhortations to ‘Buy, Buy, Buy’ any amount of tat, ‘for that perfect last-minute gift’ – yeah, right. I glance sideways at the twinkling lights on the (real) Christmas tree beside me; observe the cold, bluish light cast outside over the front path by the dangling electric representations of icicles I draped across the entrance porch and wonder if I really should have left some of the poppyseed cake and mince pies for the rest of the holiday. (Sigh).
Is our celebration of the Christmas holiday really something cooked up by the Victorians? You know, like Valentine’s Day and All Hallowes’ Eve? I always believed that we have the Romans to thank for inventing Christmas – they thought they needed to offer something to replace Saturnalia, the festival beloved of the pagan peoples they wished to conquer. The latter was to celebrate the beginning of lengthening of days – the end of those long, long periods of darkness. Such non-Christian activities just wouldn’t do for the Romans. Still – what a great idea for a party…
The Shepherds trying hard to stay awake at night to watch over their flocks may well have seen an unusual conjunction of stars in the sky. These days, software is available to scientists to figure this out. On the morning of 12th August in 3 B.C., Jupiter and Venus would have been just 1/10th a degree apart in the dawn sky. That’s one-fifth the diameter of the Full Moon. One might speculate how they came to think this signified the birth of a small child, but, hey, it had probably been a long night. I realise I’m talking about mid-August and not the end of December, but a crafty conquering Roman administrator could well have brushed aside such details in his efforts to pacify the unruly hordes.
And so, Christian societies celebrate this festival with gusto. Indeed, we have it thrust down our throats, metaphorically and in reality, because commercial interests don’t miss a trick – oh, no. Even popular songs remind us of the ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’. Twelve!
Those of the Jewish faith don’t escape, either. Hannukah starts on the 25th day of Kislev, which might be anywhere from late November to late December in the Gregorian calendar. It began on the 7th of December this year. And it goes on for eight nights and days. Ok, not as long as the Christian version, but it’s still a helluva party opportunity. It is said that when the Jews fought against the Greek banning of their religion some 2,000 years ago, they celebrated their victory by lighting an oil lamp in a temple. There was only enough oil in the lamp to burn for a day at best, yet it kept burning for eight days. This is why there is so much light symbolism in the holiday celebration.
The oft-mentioned over-eating in which we indulge during such holidays and festivals I see as a human rejection of our lot in Life. Like the gambler who meets and then doubles his bid against a wealthier opponent, despite knowing the cards in his hand are not strong. ‘A last throw of the dice’, as it were. To ‘Go out with a roar, not a whimper’.
That’s my excuse for having extra pudding, anyway.
Merry Christmas to you all. And to all, a Good Night!