Twas the Night Before Xmas…
So Xmas Eve has come and gone. And really it is all about the Eve. In my family we always exchanged gifts from each one another on the night before Xmas. Then, on the morning of the 25th of December, my brothers and I would wake up early to see what Santa brought: new bikes, G.I.Joes, Transformers, John Mellencamp CDs… All the typical things kids ask for.
Every year I find myself less and less interested in what the birth of some dude named Jesus means to me. As a child the anxiety of what Santa had in his sack kept me up late. That feeling has long been gone. Now it’s all about money in an envelope and the occasional new pair of pajama pants.
Xmas is disgusting. It’s all a ploy, an excuse to bump up the economy at the end of the year. It really means nothing to me anymore, save for seeing old friends and family. But isn’t that what Xmas is all about anyway? No. It’s not. Christmas is supposed to be about the birth of Jesus Christ. Like I care about that. It’s all about money and presents and, to a lesser extent, good will towards men.
The commercialization of Xmas, the birth of the son of God, makes me think about all that ruckus earlier this year over the image of the prophet Muhammad. Muhammad’s image is sacred to the Islamic people, as it should be. The way Christian America has turned the birth of their savior into some sort of capitalistic capitalization leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I can understand why Islam wants to keep its prophet sacred. Muhammad is a prophet. Jesus is a profit.
Don’t misunderstand me here, I think all religion is a sham. I’m against it in every form it takes. It’s not for me but it works for some people. So if having faith gets someone through the day then who am I to take that away. You gotta have faith, or something like that.