I was born on Christmas Day. No, that's not the title of a Bruce Springsteen song. It's just a fact. I was born on Christmas Day. You've probably just thought: "I'd hate to be born on Christmas Day because I'd get only one set of presents every year." Yes, yes, I know. I've been haunted by this materialistic refrain since primary school.
No birthday cards either. Well, cards, but not on the actual day. My birthday gave me many a topic of conversation with school friends as we discussed when was a good time of year to have a birthday. March, April, May, June, September, October, November we decided. July and August are no good because everyone is on holidays. Early December is just about all right.
Any later in the month, however, and you risk getting nothing of worth. And after Christmas Day, from St Stephen's Day until about January 15th was reckoned to be a disaster. Nobody has spare money for anything, schools are on holidays so you get nothing from your schoolmates. And you don't even have the notoriety of having your birthday on Christmas Day.
No birthday party
And, no, I've never had a birthday party. For some reason people aren't in the mood for birthday parties on Christmas Day. The routine in our house when I was young was a quick rendition of Happy Birthday To You, switching off the Queen's Christmas message speech as soon as it started (in an act of annual resistance) and launching into the dinner.
Not that being born on Christmas Day didn't have its occasional benefits. I was chosen to take the lead in the school's Easter play simply because of my birthday. "Murray, you'll be Our Lord." "Yes, sir." No need to audition. Instant stardom. I suspect that my mother thought that this was a good sign of things to come - a glittering career in the clergy, her son as a Father. Alas, the Catholic Church doesn't offer fast-track promotions.
Anyway, what with my birthday and my leading role in the school play, I'd need guarantees that I'd make Cardinal (at least) before signing up. Needless to say, such guarantees are not forthcoming from the Church. They have these old-fashioned rules about "vocations" and such like.
In my youth, I was occasionally disconcerted by reports that Biblical scholars said Jesus was actually born sometime in January. Needless to say, I was always opposed to such notions. You will be glad to know that, after monitoring the situation for the past 20 odd years, I feel it safe to conclude that these harbingers of heresy have not succeeded in changing Christmas. No doubt they have been silenced. Well done, the Inquisition.
Materialism
Of course, we all recognise the material want that contemporary commercial Christmas brings out. It is impossible to avoid spending - even if you don't have the necessary loot. Presents and Christmas go hand in hand but, to give the priests of the Catholic faith their due, they stand against the tide, year after year, with the sort of resolve that makes King Canute seem like a softie.
The first Sunday of Advent is always the first opportunity to fly the flag. Christmas, they say, is about God being made man, about Jesus living among us, the first step on the road to salvation and everlasting life. And they believe it. And they preach it every year. You have to admire courage like that, given that most adults are as bad as their children in the want-something-nice-department.
What chance have priests against the might of marketing? Computer games, toys, sweets, goods of every kind imaginable are presented in the most beguiling way. We can't refuse, we're told. We mustn't refuse, we're told. To refuse would be perverse. Give in to your fetish; buy, spend, consume, be happy.
Against this, we hear of a carpenter comtemplating divorcing his wife, an unexpected child born in a manger, angels visiting shepherds, a family visited by wise men and their flight from murderous Herod. It's good stuff (when we actually listen to it) but how can that sort of simple narrative ever hope to compete with the fat guy in the red suit, the Santa that Coca Cola invented, Rudolf and his red nose, elves, letters to the North Pole?
It's very much a case of Coca Cola Culture, Coca Cola Credo.
Christmas decorations
My parents often recount (uninvited, I hasten to add) the Christmases of their own youth in Belfast. Christmas began on Christmas Eve and lasted for 12 days, finishing on the Feast of the Epiphany. (This year I spotted Christmas decorations in a house on November 25th.) If you were lucky you'd get an orange and a bit of chocolate. Me, I've always craved a Nintendo. I thought my wife had bought me one a few years ago when I spotted a present of about the right size under the tree. It turned out to be a briefcase. Ah, well, you can't have everything and you don't need everything.
Nollaig shona. P.S. Don't forget the birthday card. It's not too late.