What’s It Like to Have a Christmas Birthday? A Q+A with Jesus Christ
Hey, it’s me. Jesus Christ.
The holiday season is here yet again, and folks are snuggling up by the fire with their loved ones, eating comfort foods, and wrapping and unwrapping small piles of gifts.
It’s also the time of year when I get asked a lot of questions about what it’s like to have a Christmas birthday. Sure, Christmas exists because of my birth, but now that Christmas is a wildly popular event, I have to throw myself out there for attention so that people don’t forget why we’re celebrating this day at all. I may be the son of God, but I’m also just trying to live my life like an everyday Joe (my mortal dad, Joseph, loves when I say that) and that means having a normal birthday like the rest of you plebeians.
To put an end to the Christmas birthday questioning, I’ve created a convenient Q+A for your reference.
Let’s start with the obvious: do you get shortchanged on presents?
Nope. I’m an only child, so my parents only have one person to put their shekels — I mean — energy into. My relatives are extra cautious; they don’t want me to think they’re shorting me on gifts — so if anything, they go over the top.
For instance, it’s always absolutely clear that the burlap-wrapped gifts are for my BIRTHDAY and that the papyrus-covered packages are for CHRISTMAS. It may be a lot, but it’s a testament to how much they care.
Plus, I normally have to wait an hour after we open Christmas gifts to open my birthday gifts so that it’s CLEAR that they are separate occasions. It’s like when you have to wait at least an hour after you eat to jump into the Sea of Galilee for a swim. Personally, I’d rather just get it all over within one swoop (makes the cleanup easier) — but who am I? Just your Lord and Savior. It’s fine.
Do you eat birthday cake on Christmas Day?
Heaven yes I do. Sure, there’s that whole unleavened bread thing, but I’ve already sacrificed enough. Damned if I sacrifice my Funfetti cake with chocolate frosting.
Is it nice to always be with family on your birthday?
How would you feel if you were forced to be with your extended family every single year on your birthday? Exactly. I wish I could wander cross-faded through the streets of Jerusalem, but no — I have to listen to Uncle Moses tell me he remembers when I was “this big!” At least I can turn water into wine. My cousins love that shit, although they’re always asking me if I can “do vodka next!”
Don’t you wish you could celebrate your birthday with your friends?
Well, first of all, I’m a Capricorn, so I don’t have that many friends. But the ones I do have always make excuses that they have to “spend time with their family.” Are you serious? This day wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for me, and you won’t even stop over to say hi?
Well, at least you don’t have to work on your birthday?
Oh, I work on my birthday. Having a Christmas birthday means a party. And a party means that my day is spent cleaning my home and making Frankin-scented party favors and making sure the bathrooms have enough myrrh. When you’re born with the ability to turn water into wine and multiply fish for the masses, you end up being the best caterer in town. Sometimes, the Little Drummer Boy even shows up to DJ (although at this point, he’s really more of a Hefty Drummer Man). He knows all the best songs. Have you ever heard “Confessions” by Usher? It’s a congregation favorite.
How does Santa play into all of this?
Listen, I’ve been fighting to reclaim December 25 from Santa for centuries. I ask you to consider the optics. On one hand, you have a cute little baby born in a manger surrounded by cuddly animals. On the other hand, you have Santa: a fat old man sneaking into your house while you’re asleep. The dude even enslaves elves to make toys that make people forget what December 25 is truly all about. (Me.)
What should people say when they see you on December 25? Happy Birthday or Merry Christmas?
Well, I really only celebrate Christmas as a formality. That’s right: Happy Hanukkah, schmucks. Now, excuse me as I light another candle while blowing out several on my cake — if you even care.