We modern folk have long ago given up the idea that the world we live in is in danger of being destroyed each year by the death of the sun. But imagine if you will, the feelings engendered by mankind every winter as they watched the life-giving sun die in the ever shortening of its days. It was the same kind of fear that now runs through people when our president mentions 9/11.
Life was cruel 5,000 years ago. Death came early and often. The mind of man was just beginning to cope with a new skill – reason. And as they watched the days dwindle down, these early humans used this new skill of rationale to put a face on their peril and seek an acceptable alternative; much like giving up your freedoms for a false sense of security. But to the peoples of Mesopotamia at the outbreak of history, the fear was very real.
Just as many today look around them at a world infinitely more complex than their imaginations can decipher and reason that there must be a Devine Creator, so humankind at the birth of history began to think that there must be something greater than themselves at the core of the world they lived in. The reality of their lives said that if they were being maltreated by someone, an act of appeasement could change their fortunes. So it made sense that in order to restore the sun, something or someone should be sacrificed as pacification to whatever demons were about to destroy it and them with it.
As one might expect, there were few takers for the job. The importance of the situation, however, prompted village leaders to step up, take the bull by the horns as it were, and take on the responsibility of being the sacrifice for the good of their people. If only our elected leaders would be so willing to die for the people they govern today.
Late in the month of what we now call December, near the time of the winter solstice, in a small Ubaid settlement in Mesopotamia some 5,000 years before the birth of Christ, a particularly popular chieftain stared at the setting sun along with the temple priest. The time for the yearly sacrifice had drawn near.
“Kikuid, it is time to work the miracle. You must find my successor.”
“Chief Sabium, you have had a very good year. You’ve raised the wealth of every individual in this town. The people will not want to lose you.”
“That may be so, Kikuid, but I would rather think they fear losing the power of the sun much more than they dread losing me. I want you to find my successor within the next three days and present him to me.”
“As you speak it shall be done.”
Kikuid went out into the town and spoke with the people. After two days of searching for a fitting replacement for their ruler, he came to the conclusion that such a man did not exist. Sun eating demons or no sun eating demons, their leader needed to remain in charge. Kikuid prostrated himself in front of the image of Nin-Khursag, the earth deity powerful enough to save the sun from its destruction, and begged his god to send him a solution that would free his chieftain and save the sun as well. He awoke the next morning with a plan set firmly in his mind.
The settlement had a brick building where men scheduled for execution were kept. Kikuid selected the toughest looking scoundrel of the bunch; a man named Iptiyamuta.
“I bring you great news, Iptiyamuta.”
“I’m to live?”
“No, but if you accept my proposition, you shall die a hero of your people instead of a nameless villain whom no one will remember.”
Iptiyamuta listened with interest to the scenario outlined by the High Priest. Nodding as Kikuid finished, he simply growled, “You make sense. I’ll do it.” A signal to the guards and both men were escorted to the Chief’s residence.
Sabium was astonished at Kikuid’s selection.
“You expect such a man, a common thief and murderer, to lead our people?”
“I was directed to choose him by no less than Nin-Khursag himself, my Lord. The god gave me quite specific direction and you must obey my every order if the sun is to survive.”
After a few moments of soul-searching, Sabium agreed. “The sun is more important to my people than I.” He looked to his guards and said, “Follow the High Priest and do as he commands.”
With that, Kikuid pointed at Sabium and shouted, “Seize him. Strip him of his finery and detain him so he cannot escape his future!”
The guards did as they were ordered, but Kikuid was not finished. He turned to another man and ordered, “Inform the village that we will be ordaining a new leader tonight. There will be a huge feast. Dress this man in the chief’s clothing. Set him on the chair of power. Beat the drums, have the women dance until morning. Make this the largest celebration of the year.
All did as they were told. Iptiyamuta enjoyed the finest night of his life. His every bidding was followed without hesitation. The prettiest of women sat on his lap and fed him excellent fare. They danced for him, gave him gifts of gold, jewels and animals. The village celebrated until daybreak.
As the sun edged over the horizon, Kikuid asked that Iptiyamuta be presented before him. The regal crown of authority was placed on his head and he turned to face his people as their leader. Kikuid raised a dagger and called out to their god, Nin-Khursag:
“Hear me, oh god. I present to you our leader. This man will fight the demons of the darkness with you for the return of our sun!”
With that, he plunged his dagger into the back of a drunken yet astonished Iptiyamuta, who fell dead at the feet of the villagers. “Our sun is saved!” shouted the High Priest, who signaled to the guards again. Before the villagers realized what had happened, Sabium was standing aside Kikuid, who raised the leader’s hand in triumph. “I give you your new leader!”
The people cheered, hugged and the celebration continued for twelve days.
And so god spoke, the sun was saved and proper rule reestablished. Man, given to reason on his own, came up with a celebration that lasted well past the time of Christ (another thought to be criminal who gave his life for the good of his people). The defrocking of rulers and replacing them for one day with a commoner would later become the centerpiece of the Saturnalia festival in Rome and aspects of if survived in the merriment of the Lords of the Misrule, a common form of Christmas celebration in Medieval England that even made its way to the American colonies. Christmas indeed has a long and varied history.
