Christmas always strikes me as such an interesting holiday. It is, without a doubt, one of my favorites, while at the same time it is one of the most difficult times of the year to endure. The season has become such a commercial venture that once the St. Valentine’s Day displays have been put away—which Target had up right after Christmas--I’m sure the Santa display will be dusted off for ten long months of the Christmas season.

It interests me that more people don’t catch onto the name of Christmas. It is, after all, rooted in the Christian calendar marking the mass that is to symbolize the birth of Christ in the Patriarch Churches (Catholic and other liturgical faiths that trace their roots to the ancient Christian Church). Even though towns like Pittsburgh call it the Festival of Lights, and Chicago has Mickey Mouse turning on their holiday lights along Michigan ave., there is no hiding from the fact that the season would hardly exist if not for the Christian faith. Hanuka is, after all, a minor feast in the Jewish year. Although many modern denominations no longer celebrate a Eucharistic mass, the day is still marked as the birth of Christ by a country that is predominately Christian. And it’s as much an Icon of American life as little white churches with tall steeples, and bright and colorful Easter dresses in the spring.

There are, in fact, twelve days of Christmas, much like the holiday song actually denotes, but few seldom remember. In most parts of the world, gifts are not exchanged until the last day, known as the Epiphany, when the wise men came to Bethlehem bearing gifts for the newborn son they had heard of in a dream, or vision, or whatever desert juice they were drinking.

There is so much energy put into the thirty-minute span when presents are to be opened, that Americans seem to blow out as soon as Christmas arrives. Some can’t even make it to Christmas Day, which in many denominations begins once the sun falls on Christmas Eve. The result is a hangover of commercialization that leaves us cloudy for the twelve days following December 25th, so much that it passes us by with little notice, except for the start of the New Year, which has nothing to do with Christmas.

Take for instance today, which is technically the 8th day after Christmas—eight maids a milking, or whatever it is that we’re suppose to get today. To get the true meaning of this day, Christians should ask their friends who celebrate Hanuka to better explain the 8th day after a new born boy’s birth.

The 8th day after a Jewish male is born is when the child is circumcised and given his proper name. The custom predates written history, and until the nineteenth century it was a custom reserved for mostly Jewish boys, orthodox Arabs and a few indigenous tribal ceremonies around the world. Although the practice has not been partaken by Christians, except in the U.S. and Philippines for medical purposes, it is in fact an important feast day within the eastern and Western Catholic Churches. Originally called the feast of the Circumcision, modest Irish bishops, who would rather not talk about such squeamish things (Face it bishops, Jesus was Jewish), simply now call this day as The Feast of the Holy Name, when Jesus received his name; I’m sure under the much protest of the eight day old infant. It was historically celebrated on January 1st (technically the 8th day of Christmas—I always have trouble counting), but it was moved to the 2nd day of January and renamed as the memorial feast of the Holy Name, a minor day in the catholic Church.

There is actually a church in the north of Italy, in the ancient mountain town of Calcata, named after the Sanctus Prebus of Christ (you do the Latin), The church had claimed to possess the venerable artifact before being stolen in 1983. Slate Magazine did an interesting story on the theft which many believe to be a conspiracy by Rome; one which the Catholic Church denys. Though I doubt it caught great demand along the illegal markets of Rome or Florence if taken by run-of-the-mill thievs.

The bris is an important event, worthy of celebration amongst my many Jewish friends. My Fiancé was invited to one just last week. Unfortunately, depending who you ask, she was unable to attend. In the Christian faith, this day is an important day, as it symbolizes when Jesus entered into the covenant that he was to change. It showed his obedience, not that he had much say in it. And it reminded his parents of his purpose as they gave him the name Jesus, which translates “He who saves.” It is, incidentally, the same as Joshua, the popular anglicized version of the original ie-su-a.

The tone of this post probably gives away the fact that I am a Catholic and was held up in seminary for far too long before making my exodus to Brooklyn. I find interesting the liturgical calander of my faith, it full of so many feast days that tell the stories of saints and legends. There’s little mystery in our world today. But somehow, Christmas revives that sense of mystery, a sense that was quite alive in my childhood, but forced into the dry winter earth once I grew older and fell victim to the commercialization of the season. Tradition is nice for breaking out of the mainstream. Some might say it’s ancient myth. But it’s in myth that real creativity is born. And when I dive into the history of my faith, I find my own creativity taking on a new depth.

So, if anyone asks you what you learned today, you can squirm a little in your chair as you explain. I doubt you’ll see television commercials marking the day. Television does wonders for making tradition sterile, much in the same way a surgen makes the cerimonial work of a moil less profound and much more painful to watch.

Merry 8th day of Christmas.