This should be a hoot: writing about Christmas in the middle of May. Well, I want to make a strident little point, and I can't wait until we have snow on the ground and elves in the supermarkets to do it. Every Christmas day, Christians all around America say the same thing. They put down their unwrapped trinkets and turn to someone near and dear to them, and say, "You know... the real meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with all these gifts, and the ham, and the eggnog. You know it's all about Jesus...right?" Having said that, they then go back to the gifts, the ham, and the eggnog, and consider themselves to be solid with God for another year as they admire the reindeer display on their front lawn. They've set the record straight. All the loot and the gluttony and light-up displays are for Jesus. Right.
Why do we do this? Why have we allowed Christmas to become so re-focused that we have to remind ourselves, "It's all about Jesus...right?" What if we took this same careless approach to other holidays, like Easter? OK, that was a cheap shot. But think about your own birthday. What if you were treated the same way we treat Christ? "Woo Hoo! It's Dadsber Day! I can't wait to see what's under the magnolia tree!" How would you feel if your kids were drawing pictures of flying armadillos and a fat guy named Larry? Ho, ho, ho? Not likely. And then, when one of the kids turns to the other and says, "Well, you know the true meaning of Dadsber Day, don't you? It's the day we celebrate the birth of the big guy. Yeah. Now, let's go check our laundry hampers to see what Larry left us!"
Dad's birthday - Dadsber Day. It could happen. Mom's birthday - Momsber Day. That's likely too. When will we wise up and ask the hard questions? "Why all the chocolate rabbits? Why the Easter eggs? Why the elves? Why all the extraneous stuff that comes - in many cases - straight from pagan traditions?" I'll tell you why.
We're becoming neo-pagans, that's why. Imagine sitting in heaven on Christmas Day or Easter, looking down on all this, with Christ himself sitting beside you. Lean over and whisper, "Ummm, it's really all about you. Honest."
Think about that one. Oh, and Happy Dadsber Day!
David McCoy, a notorious storyteller and proud Yellow Jacket, lives in Covington and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org