The Nativity

There comes a time in the life of any young boy when the magic of the festive season is reduced to an ill-fitting pair of socks and a Tupperware container of leftovers. It is the childhood moment when the whole Christmas-Santa-Reindeer thing suddenly implodes, crumpling into nothingness like a used party hat. Frosty the Snowman cartoons lose their mystery and the significance of carols becomes questionable when that sniffling fat kid at school tells you that the whole Christmas story is a myth.

The road to adulthood not only brings resentment at the sight of Christmas joy in the face of young children, it unloads the burdensome realisation that the whole celebration is one big cynical sales pitch that starts earlier and earlier with every passing year. Yet, as you elbow your way out of a crowded shopping centre on Christmas Eve, that little wooden nativity scene on the street corner gives some conciliation that, once upon a time, this December day was not about consumerism and credit card debt – it celebrated the birth of a special baby boy.

Sadly, this is just another serving of bullshit mince pies.

Without hesitation, mums and dads tell their children that Santa is real – retrofitting the reindeer courier story with pseudo-scientific explanations to keep up with a barrage of ever-probing questions. The story of Jesus’ birth – known to believers and non-believers alike – was constructed in exactly the same way and is as much of a myth as Rudolf’s sex-toy workshop ever was. But what about the census? The baby in the Bethlehem manger? The three wise men? All baubles I’m afraid.

Mmmm, sacrelicious...

Two of the gospels mention the birth of Jesus, Matthew and Luke. Both of them tell a similar tale, but make enough mistakes to suggest the whole nativity story was conceived to tie up loose ends. Jesus was big on fulfilling prophecies. The Book of Micah foretold the messiah would come from the house of David and be born in Bethlehem. Matthew and Luke went to great lengths to show that Jesus was descended from the Goliath-killing King David; the problem being his name was Jesus of Nazareth, not Bethlehem. An oppressive Roman census was the solution.

After comparing their stories, clearly the two gospel writers relied on Wikipedia as much as your author. Luke asserts that the Roman Governor in Syria, Quirinius, issued the census while Matthew says that Jesus was born during the reign of Jewish king, Herod the Great. Ancient historians like Josephus support Quirinius issuing a census in Syria in 6AD, however Herod died nine years earlier in 4BC. In addition, there is nothing to suggest in Roman records that people had to migrate back to their town of origin during a census or whether client kingdoms, like Judea at the time, were included in censuses at all.

These discoveries are nothing new and, like parents patching up the holes in the Santa Claus story, scholars have attempted to explain away the creative application of history employed by the gospel writers. Like most biblical errors however, centuries of dispute is preferable to admitting that that Jesus of Nazareth might be Jesus of Nazareth. In perspective, this is nothing compared to the Christian takeover of a pagan festival to subdue a recently converted populace. That, my friends, is a slow-boiled pudding best saved for next Christmas.

Witches

Most men are rightfully terrified of women. He that says otherwise has yet to meet that special someone who can read his thoughts, reduce his motor skills to naught and dictate his every action through various hexes. To call such women witches, however, is unfair and inaccurate as most witches are simply females whose subversive powers have been clearly identified. Persecuting the worst of them can provide temporary security from dark forces that men can barely comprehend let alone defeat.

When it comes to witches, it is important to look at the facts. Even though all women have some level of demonic power – seen through their regular bleeding and ability to do more than one thing at a time – not all women are ‘witches’. If history has taught us anything, it is that witchcraft often rides in tandem with independent thought and the inability of women to know their place. Fearing what we do not understand and muffling talkative females is mankind’s best defence against the concubines of Satan.

The fight against witches is a long one, some say eternal. Science may provide us with a reassuring blanket of reason, yet bad things continue to happen and we can be certain that witches are involved. The Egyptians, Babylonians and Romans all knew this and dealt with women responsible for drought, famine and disease in their own fashion. While the Old Testament is specific in its treatment of witches, it took those meddlesome new-age Christians to label witch-hunts as superstitious, with Charlemagne even outlawing the persecution of heathen women in 794.

Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind.

Not until the end of the Middle Ages was there a resurgence in the study of witches and for many centuries they had walked free amongst the populace. With the backing of Pope Innocent VIII, the first field guide to witches was published in 1487 by two German monks. Known as Malleus Maleficarum (‘The Hammer of Witches’)*, this beautifully presented book was a true product of the European Renaissance. Packed with handy hints, it was widely used to identify those women who had bedded Beelzebub and described the most effective methods to prosecute them.

The next two hundred years saw a Golden Age in witch-trials across much of Europe and the American colonies. In the midst of constant religious struggles caused by the Reformation, God-fearing folk could cast aside the shackles of political correctness and put witches back in their place. Right-minded people agreed that magic was not superstition and witches could even, at times, do positive things. What people needed protection from were witches who did harm or maleficium. Tell-tale signs included women dancing naked, men’s penises disappearing and orgies which involved eating your own babies.

Historical estimates suggest that 40,000-100,000 women were executed for witchcraft in early modern times – a good start by any reckoning. Sadly, the politically correct pendulum swung back in favour of witches, witchcraft laws were gradually phased out and the last execution in Europe took place in Prussia in 1811.

Despite this, there are encouraging signs of a revival. Many African nations have professional witch-finders and an estimated 200 women are put to death as witches in rural India each year. As recently as 2006, Fawza Falih was sentenced to beheading in Saudi Arabia based on the testimony of a man who accused her of causing his impotence. Unfortunately, she died last year in her prison cell before the sentence could be carried out.

* Known as Die Hexenhammer in German – possibly the coolest book title in history.