The Christmas story, mixed with history.
Gather round, boys and girls, and I shall tell you the greatest story on Earth. Of course, I am no Abrahamic shaman preaching in his village's temple atop his hollowed tree, so this is going to involve some historical fact, and I feel well may get a more wonderous story than the one you know!
Herod was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge's name was upon 'Change for anything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Herod was as dead a door-nail.
Herod, the client-King of Juidea had popped his mesiah hating clogs in the year 4 BC, according to the Jewish historian Josephus, a much more reliable fellow than whatever charletan put together the Gospel of Matthew. There is no doubt Herod was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.
As we all know, as our calender suggests, Jesus was born in the year 1BC/AD... whatever... in Bethlehem in a stable, where he was visited by the Magi. This is just as well, since Jewish tradition held that the messiah would be born in Bethlehem! I mean to say, that if some Carpenter's son from Nazareth wanted to convince a dozen unwashed fishermen of his divinity being born in Bethlehem would be quite useful!
Fortunately Jesus, or some later placed and aforementioned charletan had just such a literary device available! You see, the Roman Empire required that a census be carried out in the province of Judea, and that every man had to return to their town of birth to register. We are not told why the Roman Empire decided to put such an unnecessarily difficult and logistically impractical condition for this census, but they did. Now, here's the thing, the first Roman census of Judea wasn't until 6 AD - the census of Quirinius. This is as much certain that Herod was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of iron-mongery in the trade.
Anyway, we return to our narrative. Joseph had, in 6AD, to meet the needs of the census and travel to Bethlehem, says the Bible. But there is a twist, you see, in my story. His fourteen year old wife (tasty) Mary was preggers. Up the duff. With child. This caused our friend Joseph no matter of puzzlement because he had not as of yet tupped his pubescant bride.
Now, you and I may suggest that she had no inclination to be penetrated by some hairy, unwashed Carpenter two decades her senior and had instead had it off with some swarthy stable hand. But no, this girl had balls a plenty, looked her husband straight in the eye and said, "God did it."
So anyway, Joseph, now with more stress than a man needs, has to transport himself all the way to Bethlehem for a stupid census, and six years back in time, with a pregnant teenage slut in tow. I do not envy the chap.
But this he did! And he was forced to stay in the 1st century equivelent of a Travel Lodge - a shite encrusted stable. It was probably, actually, built primarily from dried shite, 1st century Jewish building techniques being as they were.
Now Zombie Heord now held court with three wise men from the East, the magi! The Archbishop of Canterbury himself has recently conceeded these men are pure myth, but they are talking to an undead King on their way to see a time traveling cuckold so let's not pick hairs. To cut a long story short, Herod asks them to report back to him if they find the Messiah so he can praise him himself, but the three wise men receive a dream from some theatrical device and don't. Zombie Herod then, either to make sure he is undisputed King of the Jews, or for delicious, delicious brains, massacres all the new borns in an entire town.
An overreaction you would think would have been recorded in a single other historical source.
Merry Christmas.
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Originally Posted by Ferrets54
