by Garner Ted Armstrong
Anyone can discover the truth about the pagan origins of Christmas, simply by looking up the word, along with all its accouterments and symbols in the major encyclopedias and history books. With the development of the Internet, it is even easier for those who possess PCs, and have access to the Worldwide Web. However, very few ever bother to do so. What about you? Have you ever really wondered about some of the customs we take casually for granted? Ever wanted to know the real TRUTH about the symbolism of “the mass of Christ,” or “Christmas?”
From time to time, I will see an article entitled “Put Christ back in Christmas,” or words to that effect. But it is impossible to “put Christ back in Christmas,” since He was never in Christmas in the first place! None of the apostles of Christ ever heard of the term; not one of them ever celebrated Christ’s birthday. The words Christmas, holly wreath, mistletoe, Rudolph, Santa Claus and Christmas tree do not appear anywhere in the Bible.
The early true church never heard of Christmas. Centuries passed before the large, apostate church ever so gradually began adapting purely pagan practices and mythology to a time they originally called “the epiphany” (relating to Christ’s baptism, which they erroneously believed occurred early in January). Later, some writers began urging a celebration at the same time as the pagan winter solstice observances. This was done for the simple reason that so many pagans were already accustomed to “joyous,” sometimes “riotous” orgies of feasting at the time of the winter solstice.
Each year, articles appear in thousands of publications at Christmas time, cheerfully admitting that the true origins of the celebration are wholly pagan, not Christian. Such articles admit that Christ was probably born several months earlier than December 25th; admit the pagan origin of the Christmas tree, “Santa Claus,” mistletoe, holly wreaths, yule logs, and the exchanging of gifts.
But most then go on to explain that the so-called “Christian” celebration “replaced” the pagan celebrations, and are therefore perfectly acceptable customs for Christians. Is this true? Does it make any difference to God? Why did not the apostles of Christ celebrate Christmas, instead of doggedly clinging to the Passover? Why did not the early church, for many, many centuries, not celebrate it? Why was it banned in early colonial America?
Did you ever really wonder WHY we do the things we do? WHY do we just take for granted such things as Hallowe’en, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Groundhog’s Day and April Fool’s Day? How many have ever really researched the origins of these and other practices, and pondered whether they are Christian or pagan?
You and I were born into a “ready-made” world. We had no part in customizing it to suit our own tastes—there it was, laid out for us, replete with holidays and customs we were taught as children (most of us). What was YOUR childhood response when you discovered there is no Santa Claus? Or did you cling to the myth of “Santa,” without thinking your parents had fibbed to you? Years ago, I heard of one young lad who, upon finding out there was no Santa Claus, said, “Well, maybe I had better look into this Jesus Christ business, too!”
I certainly never did look up any information about Christmas until I was well into my twenties, and already married. I did so, not so much to prove it was alright to celebrate Christmas, but to try to determine if my father who claimed it was pagan, and preached vigorously against it was right or wrong. That left me the “odd man out” in my neighborhood and in my school when it came time for carol singing and tree decorating. How desperately I wanted to conform to all that was in place around me. Christmas looked like so much FUN, after all.
As a boy, I deeply envied my neighborhood friends and school chums. They all gaily entered into the “Christmas spirit.” My parents didn’t observe Christmas. I never remember a time when we had a Christmas tree, or when any members of our family exchanged presents, or sang Christmas carols. My father, who was a preacher, claimed he had found historical and biblical proof that the whole thing was “pagan to the core,” as he invariably put it.
Therefore, from a family perspective, I dreaded Christmas.
But in school, and among my friends along the block, I loved it. I so wanted to be a part of it; to share in the “Yuletide,” and, especially, to find my stocking filled with wonderful goodies, or to mimic the scenes of kids around the Christmas tree, joyfully opening up gaily-colored boxes, or spending the first few hours on their new bicycles, or in their little red wagons.
To a limited extent, my mother allowed me to participate. We would draw each other’s names out of a box in our grade school classrooms, and each pupil was encouraged to buy a gift for the one whose name was drawn. But this was during the Great Depression, and folks didn’t have much money. Ten cents was a lot to spend on a gift. Keen frustrations occurred, when my Mom would take me down to the five and dime, and help me buy a tiny vial of perfume for a nickel, and wrap it up to give to the girl whose name I had drawn; all apprehensive, excited, expectant about what I would find on my desk when we had our classroom “Christmas party,” only to discover a tiny handkerchief—well, that was disappointment in capital letters!
I used to “play Christmas” out of sight of my parents, in our garage. But I couldn’t play my game until AFTER Christmas, because only then could I sneak out into the neighborhood, retrieve a little tree someone had thrown away, delighted to find a few scraps of tinsel still on it, and spirit it away, and into our garage. I would find brightly-colored wrappings people had discarded, take them out of the garbage cans, and then wrap them around little blocks of wood, like chunks of 2×4’s we sometimes used for kindling. Then, I would arrange them under my pitiful little tree, and pretend they were gifts!
My pretended Christmas was even more frustrating than exchanging gifts in class! For one thing, it was all out of sync, and for another, I was terrified I would be caught.
I learned to lie about Christmas. When the kids would be out riding their new bikes, or waltzing by on a pair of roller skates, or pulling one another in their new red wagon, and asked me, “Teddy, what did you get for Christmas?” I would tell them socks, or underwear. After all, who was going to check up—and how could they prove it one way or another?
Why am I telling you this? Because I want you to understand, before you read the rest of this book, that I desperately wanted to conform to the world around me. I deeply resented the fact that my parents didn’t “keep Christmas.” Later, as a man, I would have dearly loved to be able to justify Christmas from the Bible—not only justify keeping it, but being able to PROVE that I should! If I could do that—if I could prove that Christ was really born on the 25th of December, and that He wants me to celebrate His birthday by making out a Christmas shopping list, and entering into the “Christmas spirit,” then I assure you I would have the most beautiful tree in the neighborhood; would have my shrubs and roof all lit up, and would sneak down and fill my grandkids stockings with goodies, and blame it all on Santa Claus.
But, alas. I looked into the history books and encyclopedias—and the Bible.
I was as astonished at what I found as you will be!
