Myths Are Not Lies

 

We tell kids that a fairy will leave you money under your pillow, in exchange for a tooth. We tell them that a total stranger will break into the house and leave toys if they behave. We tell children that a rabbit hides colorful egg-like products for them to find. And finally, we tell them a man died a horrible death, thousands of years ago, just so the very God who made him would forgive us all for having made mistakes.

Any five-year-old, with any level of intellect, will eventually enquire, “Wait a minute…”

Where Santa was concerned, it finally occurred to me that our chimney was really just a flue, about six inches in diameter. I knew the guy in the pictures was not getting down that pipe. It took a while to accept the truth, but I can still remember learning that Santa was a myth by reading the encyclopedia for myself. “Daddy,” I asked, “What does mythical mean?”

Without skipping a beat, daddy said, “Make believe.”

“Ah ha!” I thought.

I really do remember that moment. I could barely read the words. I may have just spelled out the word “mythical” but I recall the conversation.

After spending many youthful years, unraveling the tall tales of rabbits, fairies and Santa, I was finally satisfied I had finally gotten to the heart of it all. Except I could not find the truth about Jesus. Believe me when I say that I tried. I read every apologetic book I could afford. The authors of those books did not seem like tricksters. They had nothing to gain by trying to make me believe in this tale. But I had already outgrown all of the make-believe notions, born out of mythical tales. The story of Jesus seemed suspiciously identical to the story of Santa, so I accorded it the same respect.

“But Jesus really lived.” My pastor said.

“Yes,” I replied, “As did the saint, whose name was Nicholas.”

We know that St. Nicholas was likely a real man, born around 280, in Turkey. With just the right inflection, Saint Nicholas, when spoken by a child, would gradually sound more and more like, “Santa Claus.”

Just in my lifetime alone, I’ve watched the evolution of Sinterklaas. We often refer to him as Santa these days. He gave up his white horse and started riding reindeer; and they fly. He left “Sooty Pete” behind a long time ago. He seems to have fired him and replaced him with elves.

The segue really got a boost in 1947, when a little Dutch girl met Santa in Macy’s and referred to him as Sinterklaas. This could easily be referred to as the most drastic example of our Americanized version of the myth taking hold.

From there, we rebuilt the entire story. The modern tales still have elements of the most original stories.

The argument that Jesus lived and Santa did not is based entirely on misinformation. That Jesus offered himself as ransom for the souls of everyone else, obviously takes his story to a higher level. Santa has always been more interested in giving rewards, in the form of some sort of gift, to children who behave.

My personal issues with the Jesus myth was always the painfully obvious paradox; that God made humans, decided to destroy them, sort of changed His mind and had a son with one of those very humans. Then we see the human son, of God, living the best possible human-life, only to be blamed for the fact that all of the rest of us came up short. So the perfect, human, son of God, bargains with his dad to let us all off the hook. Then God requires the life of his own, perfect, human son, as payment for the whole lot of humans who never measured up. The sinful humans kill the perfect son of God and this somehow makes everything right.

I don’t know about yawl, but I find it much easier to believe that Sinterklaas is still out there somewhere.

 

If anything or anyone has enough credence, enough value, enough goodness or pure quality, the story of that thing or that individual will eventually become mythical; and from there, mystical.

A myth is not a lie; it is a metaphor; it is a parable.

The point is always to juxtapose. To look at a road map is not to see the road, but a way of considering what the road might look like if it were reduced to inches rather than miles. Comparing the images one would find on a folded map, it is possible to find one’s way on an actual road, many times larger. With incredible detail and accuracy, today’s GPS devices are capable of juxtaposing a very accurate, radar-like image, on a colorful screen, where a driver can see the path ahead. This mythical representation of the real road is very helpful if you are trying to drive anywhere at all. The image on the screen is not an actual road, but a metaphorical recreation of what the road is like.

A myth is a story that should reveal the truth about something like it. Santa Claus is a mythical story in that it points to so many truths. If it did not point to a truth, it would not be a myth; it would be a lie.

So is the story of Jesus Christ a myth?

Before you answer, remember I did not ask if it was a lie. We can be fairly certain that there was a man named Jesus, who lived a life so perfectly that he was written about by several different historians. Whatever we now know about Jesus has been reduced to inches rather than miles. Following his ideals, the way we’d follow a map, we should be able to discover something like whatever he was pointing to. I am not sure how many people believe they are following a physical, living man, as compared to those who believe they are following examples left by a physical man who lived a while ago. When I consider Jesus, I don’t find him in any physical form, but I often feel I know what I should do, based on what it must have been like for him. When I think of Jesus this way, I am getting more value from what he was like (myth) rather than who he was (historically).

I just don’t eat the menu.

John Muir wrote about being very hungry out in the mountains of California. He said that he and his companions would sit around at night, talking about food. Night after night, the discussion of their favorite meals would always come up. They’d go into such detail that their dreams would take over and they’d all dream about eating those meals.

Were those men getting any kind of real nourishment from the mythical meals? Probably not. The tales were just detailed menus; which happened to describe exactly what a meal was like.

All menus are metaphors. They are filled with words and images. If they are successful, menus are very good at conveying what certain offerings might be like. No menu, even when taken literally, should ever be consumed.

When we read stories about Saints like Nicholas, it really doesn’t help if we then go trying to find the man behind the story. The highest and best purpose for a metaphor is when we discover something like it.

The stories about Jesus are there to tell us what he was like; finding that character and assuming it has more of an impact than to await his return so he can resume the role.

Stories about Jesus can have the effect of stories about food when you are starving. You might say, “Wouldn’t it be great if…”

However, when used as a guide, the stories of food are very good for making food; we refer to them as recipes. In the same way, stories of Jesus are very good as a pattern for living. With Jesus Christ as an example, you will enjoy a better life.

I would go so far as to say that he can only be the savior of the world if we can somehow assume his character. This would be powerful if it could be done. Having only a historical Jesus or an invisible savior pales in comparison to having people who decide to try to behave the way he behaved.

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