My father-in-law declared to his family members a few years ago the they (he and the wife) would no longer be celebrating Christmas. No tree, no decorations, no lights, no presents, no traditional family gathering, no turkey dinner. Nothing. It was over, as far as he was concerned. The timing of this announcement added an even stranger feel to it all, as it was immediately following the funeral of a very sweet lady they referred to as "Grandma Great," his wife's mother. The old man never has been known for his tact, so it really wasn't all that odd.
Seems he had gotten himself and his wife involved with one of their local churches in the little rural Oregon town where they live, a Church of God Adventist Church. Shades of Garner Ted Armstrong. The pastor of this church is an avid deer hunter, just like the old man, and owns many guns and thousands of boxes of ammo, and probably believes, like the old man, that Barack Obama plans to come fer them guns right after his reelection. And right off the bat the pastor of this little church convinced the old man that the true Sabbath was Saturday, not Sunday. So the old man, who by the way rules his house with an iron fist, declared that nothing must be done on the day of rest, now Saturday. This includes driving a car, except to drive to church, amongst other things, which is a good thing when you think about it, because the rest of us are safe from him dropping in. We should have seen what was next coming.
So okay, I got off the track for a minute. The old man declares there will no more Christmas at his house. And his reasoning? Because Christmas is a "pagan holiday." He mentions something about pagans burning children in a fire, and gets a strange wide-eyed look in his eyes. So, the rest of the family is aghast, but the old man cares not one whit, because of course, he is righteous, and the rest of us are pagan worshippers from 'way back. He and his long suffering wife will have no more of that paganistic gathering of the family around the tree for exchanging gifts (might be a clue there), and they will instead be eating that night nothing more than righteous macaroni and cheese and potato salad. Hallaluya.
The old man knows me, sorta, so he E-mails me something off the internet written by someone named Werner Keller, as a way of convincing me he's right, and he questions me as to whether I "lie to my children." I want to be flippant and reply that children are supposed to be lied to, but I can see he's serious. He's not talking about Santa here, he's talking about Christmas being Jesus' birthday. I assure him I've never told my children that Christmas is Jesus' birthday, but that doesn't take me off the pagan list he's preparing.
The conversation between him and me is over, I think. I E-mailed him a note in response to the silly nonsense he sent me, and while I was respectful and polite (you believe me, don't you?), I did wish him a very Merry Christmas. I'm going to hell, no doubt.
Happy Holidays, JP
