Brenda Edwards

I’ve always been a Christmas sceptic. I never believed in Santa Claus. I had to just play along and fake it until my siblings caught up to the truth. And that was the commercial concept; the spiritual part was even more difficult for me to understand. There was the virgin birth unquestionably accepted by Joseph and the tiny community. Even in my youth in a small town, I knew I’d have a hard time accepting as truth that the lady next door was conspicuously pregnant with “God’s” child. Then there was the manger and the three wise men and all those expensive gifts on the night of his birth. I knew Jesus to be a humble carpenter, with no apparent access to this earlier “trust fund”.  So either Jesus’ family was bad at money management – a trait often attributed to the poor – OR  – the holiday designated as his birthday was in fact, as most of us know, a leftover potpourri of “pagan” practices incorporated into Christianity to help other religions, conquered by Christians, assimilate.

And that’s how it is. I get that – all is fair in love and war and genocide. The past is the past. For all I know I’m living  on some long lost Hopi burial ground here in Ahwatukee, AZ… But what was really disturbing about the whole story was the idea of a “baby Jesus”.  The concept of some poor tyke who was hailed as the “Savior” and the “King of Kings” in charge of all souls from the womb on. Can you imagine having that hanging over your head from infancy? And even more disturbing was Mary’s role. She was immaculately conceived, born without sex, and so was her son. In fact she had no role in what happened to her, she was merely a compliant vessel.

And I don’t really like to make religious OR political statements anymore, with societal temperament the way it is now, but in this case I was compelled to respond to Jesus! A December Celebration of the Christ. So, that’s what my new work at the R Pela Contempory Gallery is about. It imagines the emotional chaos of being the baby Jesus, born in the poor and tiny community of  Bethlehem in the presence of 3 Wise Men bearing exotic gifts. Word would get out – even if Joseph and Mary were responsible parents and didn’t want Jesus to KNOW he was the Savior until he came of some reasonable age. Word would get out, and he’d have to start calculating his reign and his purpose from day one, instead of maybe taking on the role at some later stage of his life when he was ready – like he did. Jesus  as a child.

I am as happy as anyone to celebrate the Holiday. I love the lighting. I love the giving. But don’t expect me to buy the virgin birth.