These days, it seems many of you have lost sight of the true meaning of Christmas. From my famous home called heaven, every year I watch you all fighting in shopping malls, racking up credit card debt, and complaining about one another at extravagant feasts while the poor go hungry. Somewhere along the line you all lost sight of what the Christmas season actually means. Somewhere in history, humanity seems to have forgotten my true intention, the reason for the season. When I inventedChristmas by entering a human body on a dare, it was never supposed to be about any of those things. When I came up with the idea for Christmas it was only ever supposed to focus on one important thing, a big fat evergreen spruce in the middle of a family’s dwelling.
I remember the very first Christmas. The wise men were there and with my tiny baby mouth I miraculously spoke my first words: “Go cut down a beautiful pine and bring it in here to this weird barn”. The wise men exchanged puzzled looks then did as Icommanded, and the rest, as they say, is Christory. People loved the tree. Because I asked them to love the tree. Then I died and left my human body also on a dare and for 1800 years people lost the point of Christmas. At no point in this time did a single one of you excavate a fir from its natural home in my father’s blessed earth and drag it, screaming inaudibly, into your horrible hearth. My deepest fear is that this is happening again. I fear you all are missing the whole point of Christmas. I fear trees remain earthed.
You all seem to think the reason for the season is stress, shopping, hustle-bustle. You stare all day long at short holiday car movies. You stare all day long at short holiday jewelry movies. But all you should really be staring at is a comatose seedling in the middle of your den as it comes to terms with the fact that it will never grow larger. Mark my words. Consumerism threatens to tear the ideals behind Christmas away from everyone except the Pine Tree lot owners.
Presents, Santa, Greed, Family, My Birth, these are all things that threaten to take focus away from the preferably barren green monstrosity surviving in your home on a recycled cocktail of it’s own juices. The point of Christmas isn’t the latest, greatest, iPhone. The point of Christmas is watching a green triangle shed it’s skin on your carpet. Christmas isn’t about sitting on Santa’s lap. It’s about rubbing against a branch and holding back tears of bliss as tiny needles enter the abyss for good.Christmas isn’t about “getting”. It isn’t about “giving” either. It’s about asking your child how brown a hostage shrub is and growing anxious if it’s “too soon”.
From my famous home, heaven, I see shivering orphans out on the street, starving on Christmas day. This makes my ghost heart weep. I see families taking time out of their Christmas festivities to volunteer and bring these orphans food and blankets. This makes my ghost heart weep louder. This makes my ghost heart wail with tragedy. This is all time spent away from the tree. Mark my words. I am the son of the clouds and I can say with certainty the true spirit of Christmas isn’t taking your family to do this sort of kind deed. That is not what I had in mind when I brainstormed Christmas. I say unto you the true spirit of Christmasis taking your family instead to a field of conifers with a sharpened axe, letting the tiniest human among you pick a bark covered victim, and then slaughtering your target together in front of its silently shrieking conifer community.
Humanity I am sorry. It is clear you have run astray in your Christmas beliefs and perhaps I am partially to blame. I should not have let my hooligan disciples write the great good books without me. For there is no mention of bleeding trees dry within human walls made of other dry tree corpses. I wail my finest apology.
Now though you know my truest intentions. May you honor them. For until I am dared once again to be alive and leave my famous home heaven, you must keep in your hearts, minds, and spirits the true meaning of my greatest creation the holidayChristmas. Do not lose sight of the season. Go forth. Strike down a living green goliath, hoist it in to your human lair, stand guard as it bleeds it’s wonderful sap upon your carpet, and discard it’s decrepit husk weeks later. This is the true meaning ofChristmas. This is what I intended. Amen.