As far as I can tell from my study of the documents that survived the fires at the British Museum and Library of Congress, the following event took place in Bethlehem on that first Christmas Day.
When Joseph learned that three magicians were on their way and that they wanted to give gifts to the Baby Jesus, he panicked. Neither the family nor the shepherds had anything of value to share with Caspar, Melchior, or Balthazar.
One of the shepherds, Josh I think his name was, came to Joseph’s rescue with a suggestion. “Why don’t we sit in a little circle and then go around the manger in turn and each say how thankful we are to our three generous visitors. We can offer them verbal thanks.
So, upon the arrival of the three, they found joseph, Mary and the Babe, Josh, and two other shepherds, Seth and Enos, in a circle, each with expectant looks on their faces, except for little Jesus, who was sleeping peacefully.
“Let’s widen this circle,” announced Casper, and he, Melchior, and Balthazar slid in among the group.
After an exchange of pleasantries, Melchior reached into a backpack kind of thing and withdrew gold, frankincense, and myrrh. “Sorry we did not have time to get these items gift wrapped. You would not believe the crowds at the blue light specials, but Merry Christmas.”
Joseph took this as a cue to begin the recitation of thanks. “Seth, begin,” he instructed.
Seth’s wife had been withholding favors from him, claiming that he smelled worse than his sheep. “I’ll take that myrrh,” he announced. And he took it.
Joseph was appalled. Before he could protest Seth’s greed, Enos reached for the frankincense. “I heard you can smoke this stuff,” he said.
Consumed with shock and anger, Joseph unhooked his carpenter’s belt and was about to lash the two shepherds when Caspar intervened. Good thing, too, for Josh had his eye on the gold.
“Be at peace, Joseph, you’ll wake the Babe. We are magicians, don’t forget, we will separate the gifts from the avaricious shepherds and place them, along with the gold, in the Babe’s crib, er hay, and all will be well.
And all was well indeed.
Well, not all. Launched on that first Christmas day, the greedy practice of stealing presents endures. Dirty Santa it is called. At Christmas events all over the land, revelers bring gifts, party, and then engage in a pagan practice of stealing them from each other. I can testify. At the party I attended, I drew a wonderful assortment of soaps and bath oils from the grab bag. Seconds later, a covetous participant claimed my good fortune and stole it from me, along with my dreams of luxuriating in a tub of delightfully warm soapy water. Denied my treasure, I was awarded a second shot at the gifts. Hopefully, I unwrapped my selection and found three of those clips used to close potato chip bags. Merry Christmas. Are you surprised that no one stole those beauties from me? I think not.
There are people who claim that purloining people’s prized gifts at Christmas time is fun and perfectly acceptable. Kris Kringle and the three wise guys would disagree.
Rats, if Caspar had let Joseph swing the belt, I still might have the aromatic soap.
Thanks to Joyce who took this photo of me regarding a bowl of Christmas balls.
