​Today’s question comes from Ben Basden, a friend of Chad’s from Texas, and the Minister of Music at CrossRoads Fellowship Church, a church that Chad helped start in 2003. Ben writes, “Does your book cover the topic of how there’s basically a 1/365 chance that Jesus was actually born on December 25 and that it was easier to just stick it on a pagan holiday?”
 
Looks like we should have just let Ben write the book! First, no, somehow none of that ended up in the book. We are probably going to realize later that the book has more holes in it than a QAnon conspiracy theory. Second, yes, every bit of what Ben wrote is accurate. Thanks, Ben, for the leading question, and thanks for ruining everyone’s Christmas. You have definitely captured the spirit of the book.
 
So let’s have some honest truth: we don’t have a darn clue when Jesus was born. Heck, it’s hard enough to narrow it down to the right YEAR, much less the date. It wasn’t in the year 1 A.D., though—can you imagine people sitting around at their Millennium Party, counting down from year 1 B.C. to year 1 A.D., saying, “We don’t know who this ‘Christ’ is, but boy is this the party of a lifetime! 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .”? We don’t have much to work with on the calendar, but mean ol’ Herod was dead by 4 B.C., so Jesus must have been born sometime before that. But again, we don’t know the year, much less the date. Apparently no one who mattered thought this kid was very important at the time, so they didn’t write it down.
 
*Note to parents: this right here is why you should keep a scrapbook; you never know when your child will grow up to be the founder of a major world religion.
 
So how did we end up on December 25th? Call me skeptical, but I have serious doubts that a full-term pregnant lady made a lengthy donkey-back road trip through mostly desert terrain in the dead of winter. I just don’t see it happening. So how did we end up there? Well, centuries later, when Christians decided they had to park the birth of Jesus somewhere, they did a little better than just throw a dart at the calendar. They decided this was also the perfect opportunity to stomp out a little paganism while they were at it. December 25 was the winter solstice (okay, it’s not, but they thought it was; they weren’t the Mayans when it came to calendar-making, okay?), and thus it was the perfect date to mark the birth of deities—the hope of new life, spring is coming, all that stuff. Lots—and I mean LOTS—of deities were said to be born on that date, including Sol Invictus, Horus, Osiris, Attis, Heracles, Dionysus, and a whole bunch of others in lots of different cultures, most of whom also had a worship cult associated with them. The most important of those is Mithras.
 
Mithras—and Mithraism, the religion named for him—is probably the most important religion you’ve never heard of (unless some college professor told you about it once and blew your mind), because not only was he born on Dec 25, there were tons of other similarities in the birth story, including a visitation by shepherds at birth. Most importantly, it was the official religion of the Roman Empire just before Constantine issued an official edict that read, in formal Latin, “New Rule: we are doing the Jesus thing now.”
 
Sadly, the holiday song “All Hail, King Mithras” just never took off. It did appear in the Methodist hymnal, though, as recently as 1950. *checks notes*—actually, that’s not true at all. We don’t want any hateful comments from our Wesleyan friends, please.
 
So what happened? As Christianity began to spread, it needed a date to commemorate the birth of its Messiah. No one knew when that was exactly, so they had to pick one. So if you park your holiday right on top of all those pagan birthdays, you not only get to celebrate YOUR deity, you also get to stomp out THEIR celebration, and gradually over time you get to say, “Not your god, but my God.” So we did that. That’s just true, even if most of us had no idea.
 
People still get bent out of shape about it, though, thinking that if Christianity is not 100% original storyline, then it must be made up or fake, so folks often dig in their heels and refuse to believe what is easily provable here. Don’t be like that. Normally, especially with religious movements, if everything is completely new storylines, that is the mark of a crazy cult group (looking at you, Scientology! Like, what even is that anyway?? Cognitive pop psychology with a heavy dose of aliens? Points for being original, but my goodness, y’all jumped the shark on that one!)
 
So yeah. We stole the birthday from the pagans. And we stomped out their paganism so hard, no one even remembers they were a thing. Take that, pagans!
 
And also, know that when Chad or Dave wish you “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”, there is at least a little part of us that is most definitely thinking about Mithras. 

Today is the first day of classes for the Fall semester at Carson-Newman University. In honor of this special day, we're digressing into a question that has long plagued the denizens of Mossy Creek, namely, "Is it talons UP or talons OUT?"

As you are no doubt aware, the second and better-known mascot of the Carson-Newman athletics programs is an Eagle. (The first? The Fighting Parsons, of course.) Over time, various chants and cheers have originated from this avian bird of prey. Some were regrettable - "Stir the Nest"? - while others have endured, most recently the expression "Talons Up," which has taken on a life of its own.

Enter archvillain English professor and cake connoisseur Dr. Mike Sobiech. It would seem that during one of his many lumbering meanders on the banks of Mossy Creek, the thought struck him that an eagle's talons might better be expressed as proceeding OUT rather than UP, which would disrupt a decade's worth of C-N cheers, t-shirts, and selfies.

Attempting to settle this dispute, we reached out to raptor expert (really) Kathy Caminiti, who offered this take: "LOL I would say 'Talons Out.' They bring their legs up but then they open their talons out to catch their prey. Legs up. Talons out. When attacking prey, the talons are 'spread out' wide to increase the chance of a successful strike."

So there you have it. The debate has finally been settled.

The new Carson-Newman slogan is "Legs Up."

Is Santa real? Heck no, are you kidding me?? It is a ridiculous and destructive myth that we created to manipulate the behavior of our children and which fails to account for why all the bratty annoying kids of wealthy people are apparently so deeply loved by St. Nick, meanwhile the adorable but barely-making-it poor kid gets a couple pieces of candy and one hot wheels car.

Yikes! I feel like I came out way too hot there. Let’s back up and try again. But less crazy this time.

How should parents approach the Santa issue? This is a tough one for parents. On the one hand, you can lie to your kid . . . and watch them have years of unbridled joy opening presents and witlessly thanking the wrong person for it, while you sip on hot chocolate at dawn and reflect on the beauty and innocence of childhood and this astoundingly perfect creature your DNA somehow produced. But you did lie. On the other hand, you can suck the joy out of childhood with your sanctimonious holier-than-thou holiday fascism that insists that Santa is emphatically NOT the reason for the season, while simultaneously destining your child for a lifetime of vapid no-fun-allowed-ism and a decade of Emo clothes, vampiric sleeping patterns, Goth music, and black eyeliner, all because their childhood was robbed of fun as their mythical/imaginative brain was destroyed by the concrete-analytical brain they weren’t yet ready for, all in the service of your adult fun-sucking theological hang-ups.

Wow . . . that one still came out way too hot there. And still crazy. Sorry about that.

But really . . . your choice is this: A) play a mildly deceitful game with your child for the sake of pure joy, or B) fight a battle that probably isn’t worth fighting because they will inevitably learn about Santa before they understand the incarnate Christ in a manger anyway.

Also, any time you have the choice between lying to your kids or . . . whatever option B is, you should always choose lying to your kids. Why? Two reasons:

1) it’s fun to lie to your children, and your opportunities are limited (other examples include “vegetables are delicious”, “of course I want to watch Frozen for the eleventh time this week,” and “sometimes mommy and daddy like to wrestle”).
2) Even if you blow the lid on Santa, they STILL won’t believe you if other kids tell them “nuh uh, Santa is real! I saw him!” And that will always always always happen. Hard parenting lesson to learn while they are young: do whatever you think is best, but you still will always lose.

Additionally, there is an oft-repeated fear that our kids will find out that Santa is made up and then conclude that God is made up too. This rumor makes some sense, especially since Santa and God are in the same category in a child’s mind—an entity grown-ups talk about but you’ve never seen, who expects us to behave, and who gives us good things when we do (and both are, of course, old white dudes with beards who live in a far-away and inaccessible location with an army of tiny weird helpers). But y’all, no kid ever makes that jump. They just don’t. Also, these silly mini-humans have zero grasp on reality-vs-fantasy anyway. They think Jedi are real; they think you need to wear gloves to control your ice powers; they think Paw Patrol is a good cartoon; and they think their parents are actually cool. None of these things are true. They will sort out reality just fine later. And if they are later plagued with doubts about God’s existence, it won’t be because they got fooled by the Santa thing when they were 5; it will be because the adults in their world simply refuse to act like the Jesus they claim to follow. (And if you ARE going to lie, please try not to go as far as Megyn Kelly did or Jesus might really need to be thrown out with Santa.)

But seriously, there’s no sense in robbing the kids of childhood joys over your own theological hang-ups. And when they do figure it, just come clean, don’t double down on the myth. At that point, you really are lying.

Editor's Note: Special thanks to John Hill for these delightful questions! Because his questions were selected this week, we'll be sending him his very own "I Read the Bible with Chad and Dave" sticker! If you'd like a chance to win one, too, submit your Christmas- or book-themed questions to Dave and Chad at [email protected]. If we choose to respond to your question on our blog, you'll get your very own sticker! In the meantime, check out the great perks at our Kickstarter for our forthcoming book here.

 Dearest ex-husband of our second cousin,

We're so glad you asked. While it's been 16 years since we first and last saw you, it's good to hear from you. We're also delighted to know that word has reached you about our forthcoming book and greatly appreciate your interest in a copy. 

In case you had not seen it yet, our Kickstarter campaign - to raise funds to publish the book - has a $250 tier dedicated to our parents. As in, "Hey Mom and Dad, can I borrow $250?" That should tell the astute observer a few things: 1) There is a reason we did not write a book on greed. 2) Our expectations for profit are as modest as Elisabeth Eliot. And 3) Even Mom and Dad aren't getting a free copy.

However, we have also developed a more concrete mathematical formula (with the help of our esteemed mathematician colleagues Thomas Bass and Corbin Hedges) to determine who might qualify for a free book. First, rank yourself on our list of acquaintances. We currently have approximately 2500 unique "friends" on Facebook, but this part of the formula is trickier than you might think because you have to do it for BOTH of us. For instance, Brent Metcalf may come in at 63 on Chad's list but only 283 on Dave's list, arriving at an average of 173. Once you have derived your Average Acquaintance Rank (AAR), you must then multiply that number by 10 (cost of book is $10). In the case of Brent, that would result in 1730. That number now constitutes the amount of money we would lose if we gave a free copy to you and everyone who has a higher AAR. 

After checking and double-checking your math, if you are still unsure whether you are eligible to receive a free copy of our book, pronounce aloud the sounds made by combining the 14th and 15th letters of the English alphabet and you will have your answer.

But you know what's easier than math? Pre-ordering a copy of our book. And you can do so right here. 

Once again, thank you for your interest in our book. We look forward to seeing you again, even if your AAR is 2472.

Chad and Dave

If you've visited our Kickstarter campaign, you may have wondered about the special gift connected with our $20 contribution level - "The Apocryphal Chapters." What exactly are "The Apocryphal Chapters"? What will be included? And can I eat them?

We're so glad you asked.

Most popularly, "The Apocrypha" refers to a set of intertestamental (written between the time of the Old Testament writings and the New Testament writings) books that are typically included in Catholic and some Protestant Bibles. Not surprisingly, various Christian traditions have debated whether to include these books in bound Bibles, whether they are canonical or not, which books to include and which to omit, which order to put them in, and what color the book binding should be (we assume).  Being well-versed in these "deuterocanonical" books can impress your Catholic friends and draw the suspicions of your Evangelical friends. And watch the sparks fly at your ecumenical dinner parties!

In a more broad sense, however, "apocryphal" can take on the meaning of "extra", "additional", or even "secondary." 

To put it in musical terms, these are biblical "B-sides."

In that vein, we have collected a variety of our own "B-sides" from Chad and Dave Read the Bible, Vol. 1: The Christmas Story - writings that, for a variety of reasons, did not quite make the cut for our finished product. Much like the biblical Apocrypha, these writings were not cut because they were "trash" (or skubula in Greek) but rather because they didn't quite fit the scope of our intended project. Some of them you might quite enjoy. And who knows? You might even find a "Yellow Ledbetter" or "Unchained Melody" in the bunch.

As for the final contents, who can say? With a few months to go before we head to publication, decisions are still being made. Perhaps you will get "#BlackMagiMatter" - perhaps not. Perhaps you will find "The Revelation of Jesuchristo to Juan of Alvarado" - we'll see. But we promise to make it worth your while.

And finally, PDFs are not edible. If you print them, however . . .