To dismay of my mother, and the delight of my Italian grandfather, I have my Bachelor of Arts in Religious Studies. No, this isn’t a case of Dissociative Identity Disorder where I have an incredibly pious personality that kills it at academia, during university I wanted to be a teacher and thought religious studies was my golden ticket to a full time job.
Spoiler alert: I work in IT.
However, I relish any opportunity to flex my undergrad muscles and talk shop, and thought since my Modern Retelling of the Easter Story
was warmly received, I would like to take this opportunity to teach ya’ll about Christmas, as it is told in the Good Book.
So gather ’round and quiet that little part of your brain that says, “This is scientifically impossible.”
Let’s talk about the Christmas Story!
Ok. So. To understand Jesus’s birth story, we have to talk about his cousin, John the Baptist.
JB’s dad, Zechariah, was a devout priest who was married to a woman named Elizabeth who happened to be cousins with Mary the soon to be Mother of God. Maybe they were first cousins, or second cousins, but whatever, they were related. Anyways, the couple was getting up there in age, and didn’t have any children. So, Zechariah takes his personal problems to work, and decides to pray to God to give him a child.
One day, the angel Gabriel appears to Zechariah and is like, “Hey girl, good news. God sent me to tell you to calm your tits, because he’s going to give you and your wife a baby boy.”
Zechariah, an unfortunately patriarchal man, was like, “How is this possible? My father-in-law sold me a lemon, she’s too old to have kids.”
Gabriel was pissed, and was like, “Do you want this baby or not?”
Zechariah, facing professional embarrassment for turning away a gift from God, backpedaled and accepted the late in the game pregnancy.
“Excellent,” Gabriel said, text messaging God the news.”But you have to name the baby John.”
“I kinda always thought I’d name my son Zechariah, too. Then I’d be called Big Z, and he’d be Little Z, it would be so cute.”