Merry Newtonmas


For various reasons, both obvious and obscure, I have always been both confused and fascinated by Christmas. Every year I am more and more fascinated to see how each person celebrates their own unique Christmas, from the deeply religious and reverent to the drunkenly, crassly commercial.

As such, I adore intelligent examinations of what Christmas is, how it has become that and what role it serves not only for Christians but all of Western culture.

The following excellent essay by Richard Newton is reprinted from The New Statesman.

O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel . . .

Advent, we learned at school, was a time of anticipation: of looking forward to the coming of the Messiah. But we boys knew better. Advent was looking forward to something a lot more interesting – Christmas. That great processional tune, played on the organ to announce the Advent hymn, still stirs my depths, fifty years on. It meant that Christmas, which was the main thing each boy had been looking forward to since his birthday, was really coming – and what bad luck on poor Jesus, having his birthday on Christmas Day.

The Advent hymn anticipated the excited sleeplessness of Christmas Eve, then the knobbly weight of the stocking, distended and crackling with promise of the “real” presents to come after breakfast or, in unlucky years, after church. That heraldic minor-key theme, on the trumpet stop, was a fanfare for Hamleys, for Meccano and Hornby Dublo, for overeating in a wasteland of coloured wrapping paper.

We knew little of the theology of Advent. “Emmanuel”, we gathered, might be a rather daring misspelling, but it really was just another way of writing “Jesus”. How else interpret the familiar words of Matthew (1:22-23)?

Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying/Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel . . .

We never wondered why God would go to such lengths simply to fulfil a prophecy. Nor, indeed, why God would go to the even greater lengths of sending his son into the world in order that he should be agonisingly punished for the sins that mankind might decide to commit at some time in the future (or for the past scrumping offence of one non-existent man, Adam) – surely one of the single nastiest ideas ever to occur to a human mind (Paul’s, of course). We never wondered why God, if he wanted to forgive our sins, didn’t just forgive them. Why did he have to scapegoat himself first? Where religion was concerned, we never wondered anything. That was the point about religion. You could ask questions about any other subject, but not religion.

We’d have been intrigued if our scripture teachers had come clean and told us that Isaiah’s Hebrew for “young woman” was accidentally mistranslated as “virgin” in the Greek Septuagint (an easy mistake to make: think of the English word “maiden”). To say that this little error was to have repercussions out of all proportion would be putting it mildly.

From it flowed the whole Virgin Mary myth, the kitsch “Our Lady” of Catholic grotto-idolatry, the sub-paedophile spectacle of young girls in virginal white First Communion dresses, the goddess status of not just Mary herself but a pantheon of local “manifestations”. Pope John Paul II thought he was saved from assassination in 1981 not just by Our Lady but specifically by Our Lady of Fatima. As I have remarked elsewhere, presumably Our Lady of Lourdes, Our Lady of Guadalupe, Our Lady of Medjugorje, Our Lady of Akita, Our Lady of Zeitoun, Our Lady of Garabandal and Our Lady of Knock were busy on other errands at the time.

Our scripture teachers could have gone on to tell us that Isaiah’s “Emmanuel” verse was really nothing to do with Jesus, but referred to a temporary problem in Jewish politics seven centuries earlier. The birth of a child called Emmanuel was a sign to King Ahaz of Judah, to encourage him in his little local dispute with the neighbouring kingdoms of Syria and Israel.

It is typical of the religious mind to force a gratuitous symbolic meaning where none was intended. Christian writers later saw Judah’s oppression as a symbol for mankind’s enslavement to death and “sin”, and ended up unable to tell the difference, like people who send Christmas cards to the Archers. An even funnier example is the late Christian gloss on the “Song of Songs”, a frankly erotic document headed, in Christian bibles, by hilariously euphemistic epigraphs such as “The mutual love of Christ and his church”.

The desire to fulfil prophecies is where our most heart-warming Christmas stories come from. There is no actual evidence that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, let alone in a stable. But he must have been born in Bethlehem, because the prophet Micah (5:2) had earlier said:

But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou
be little among the thousands of Judah, yet
out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel . . .

So, Luke has Mary and Joseph starting in Nazareth, but forced to go to Bethlehem (“everyone into his own city”) to pay a Roman tax (ancient historians rightly ridicule this tax story). Matthew, by contrast, has Joseph’s family starting in Bethlehem, but moving to Nazareth after returning from the flight to Egypt. Matthew turns even Jesus’s relatively undisputed con nection with Nazareth into a strained effort to fulfil yet another prophecy:

And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene. (Matthew 2:23)

Mark, the earliest Gospel, doesn’t mention the birth of Jesus at all. John (7:41-42) has people saying that he couldn’t really be the Christ, precisely because he was born in Nazareth not Bethlehem, and because he was not descended from David:

Others said, This is the Christ. But some said, Shall Christ come out of Galilee?
Hath not the scripture said, That Christ cometh of the seed of David, and out of the

To add to the confusion, Matthew and Luke, though theirs are the only Gospels claiming that Jesus had no earthly father, both trace Jesus’s descent from David through Joseph, not Mary (albeit through very different intermediates from one another, and very different numbers of intermediates).

Most but not all scholars think, on balance, that a charismatic wandering preacher called Jesus (or Joshua) probably was executed during the Roman occupation, though all objective historians agree that the evidence is weak. Certainly, nobody takes seriously the legend that he was born in December. Late Christian tradition simply attached Jesus’s birth to a long-established and convenient winter solstice festival.

Such seasonal opportunism continues to this day. In some states of the US, public display of cribs and similar Christian symbols is outlawed for fear of offending Jews and others (not atheists). Seasonal marketing appetites are satisfied nationwide by a super-ecumenical “Holiday Season”, into which are commandeered the Jewish Hanukkah, Muslim Ramadan, and the gratuitously fabricated “Kwanzaa” (invented in 1966 so that African Americans could celebrate their very own winter solstice). Americans coyly wish each other “Happy Holiday Season” and spend vast amounts on “Holiday” presents. For all I know, they hang up a “Holiday stocking” and sing “Holiday carols” around the decorated “Holiday tree”. A red-coated “Father Holiday” has not so far been sighted, but this is surely only a matter of time.

For better or worse, ours is historically a Christian culture, and children who grow up ignorant of biblical literature are diminished, unable to take literary allusions, actually impoverished. I am no lover of Christianity, and I loathe the annual orgy of waste and reckless reciprocal spending, but I must say I’d rather wish you “Happy Christmas” than “Happy Holiday Season”.

Fortunately, this is not the only choice: 25 December is the birthday of one of the truly great men ever to walk the earth, Sir Isaac Newton. His achievements might justly be celebrated wherever his truths hold sway. And that means from one end of the universe to the other. Happy Newton Day!




  1. The birth of Jesus in the New Testament always reminded me a bit eerily like the birth of Horus in Egyptian myth. Indeed, there are Madonna Isis/Horus sculptures, virtually identical in pose. Isis having had a popular cult in Imperial Rome.

    Also, I am quite intrigued by the Black Madonnas, and other “our ladies” of various deep water springs, these are traditions in European folklore which predate Christianity. They also likely don’t share much in common historically with the Isis worship (though there’s much in common regarding symbolism at times) But that I believe is coincidence… can be explained easily by the fact that the theme of women’s sexuality and childbirth is a common part of our human existence.

  2. But you may have a point, Miss Callisto–plus the symbolism matches up. The moon at her feet, the babe in her arms, the moon crown or the moon disk bright behind her head, the blue stone of many of the statues–these are traditionally seen in nearly all portrayals of Isis with young Horus.

    But they are also common motifs of Mary and Yeshua–blue stone replaced by blue robes, babe on the right breast instead of the left, but the moon still at the feet, the disk still behind her head.

    The Black Madonnas seen in Eastern Europe confuse things, a tad:

    But I still think they point primarily to Isis first–or Kali, by one theorist–and Mary later. Though they are revered as images of Mary, with all the symbolism inherent–the moon again, the blue-starred robe, the babe in arms.

  3. well… the reason I say this, is because there are common themes in all religions, even widely disparate ones… say Central America for example, where you know there could not have been a great deal of cross culture (nil, in fact) until the arrival of the Spanish. This points to a inner structure to religions in general, which has been my pet theory for quite some years.

  4. True.

    I’m more of an Indus Valley expansionist theorist, myself.

    But true, in nearly all religions that we know, there is the story of the rising waters, the story of the first people, the story of the sacrificed God-King. The mother, the maiden, the hunter, the shaman. These are broad concepts, touching base in very diverse places.

    (And vampires. In most cultures. That intrigues the hell out of me.)

    I do not despise Christianity or Christians. I somewhat despise the tendency of some to claim ‘oppression’ and under such a term, put legislation forth ‘protecting’ Christians and Christian values as a class set. At least here in the wilds of America, Christians are anything but oppressed. And still they wail that everyone isn’t respecting them, their culture, their holidays…while whining at every ‘alternative’ symbol they see, from wishes for “Happy Holidays” down to menorahs (hanukkiahs?) in public parks.

    I see nothing wrong in exploring the roots of your religious culture. It doesn’t–or shouldn’t–diminish your faith in any way, and it will instruct. Why is this not important?

  5. It strikes me that the ones (in the United States, at least) who whinge and wail the loudest are truly the ones both least disadvantaged… and the ones practicing something that only resembles true Christianity in lip service alone.

    Personally, I’m happy to celebrate the return of the Light no matter which form it takes, as many aspects lead to more faces of truth – right?

    I think it may be a matter of whether you’re willing to accept that what’s right for you might not be what’s right for other people, or whether you’d rather impose your opinion on them. Misery loves company?


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