I didn’t realize that I’d had a good relationship with Jesus Christ until it all went sour this year.

No, really.

Some of you who know me might be suspicious of this statement. You might be saying, “Whoa, Adam, I’m pretty sure you’re Jewish. And pretty secular at that, perhaps even an atheist.” Well, yeah, you’re not far off. But honestly, until very recently, Jesus was all right with me. We were acquaintances, we had lots of friends in common, we were the kind of guys who’d say hello to each other at social events and always leave thinking highly of each other. Maybe we’d make tentative plans to get together outside of our social circuit, but if those plans never materialized we didn’t hold it against each other - we’re both busy.

Some history of Jesus and me: As a tiny kid, I didn’t know Jesus very well. Like a lot of highly-assimilated Jews, I grew up believing in Santa Claus, getting presents on Christmas, and also lighting Hanukkah candles. I was an avid consumer of TV Christmas specials, even though I was aware that the occasional religious moments towards the end weren’t really for me. The rest of it was.

So Jesus was okay with me. Though he was clearly more important to some of my friends, I liked him. I thought of him as Santa Claus’s quieter younger brother. A good guy with kind words for everyone, like those big friendly camp counselors who take you for a little “cool down” walk after you’ve gotten into (and in my case, probably lost) a fight. I wasn’t quite sure why Jesus spent so much time up on that cross, but as a boy with an occasional but healthy persecution complex, this only made me feel closer to him. [”Yeah, you’re totally right, Jesus, they will miss me when I’m gone.”]

By the time I was eight, things had changed a bit. I’d uncovered the Shocking Truth about Santa, I’d publicly declared myself an agnostic on logical grounds (well, “publicly” as in “in my parents’ bedroom,” but that counts when you’re eight), and I’d begun my ed-Jew-cation. In Hebrew School we were taught to think of Jesus as a prophet. Not the prophet, of course, but we were counseled to respect him and his teachings. This was fine with me. I honestly didn’t have a lot of respect for most of the prophets - they seemed to be nothing but bearded guys who came out of nowhere holding giant rulebooks that everybody suddenly had to follow. But Jesus seemed okay. I honestly didn’t think about him all that much, which was understandable, I think - videogames had just been invented. But I’d see Jesus on the road and on television all the time, and I was happy to see that he was doing well.

As I got older, Jesus started showing up more frequently. He was a part of my friends’ lives, and he was never a drag. I dated a few Christian girls, mostly Christian girls, in fact, and as such even went to pay my respects to Jesus on more than one Christmas Eve or Sunday afternoon. Jesus and all his assembled friends never seemed to mind that I wasn’t officially in his club. It was cool. [Except for one notable evening at 2AM under Debbie’s family’s Christmas tree, doing something that I was sure was going to bring down the wrath of Jesus and Santa and Debbie’s dad. But somehow we didn’t get caught.]

I read the New Testament. Not a bad read - the stories weren’t as exciting as the original, but there was a lot to think about and a lot less inscrutable Wrath. As sequels go, I’d rank it somewhere up there between “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me” and “The Empire Strikes Back.” Sort of like “Aliens,” in fact - really, really good, but so different from the original that direct comparisons aren’t all that meaningful. And Jesus definitely comes off looking pretty good.

As my world expanded, I became aware that some of Jesus’ friends were a little pushy. By my late teens I was well aware that a lot of Jesus’ friends thought that I was going to Hell because I hadn’t accepted Jesus as my lord and savior. But those people never actually spoke to me about it, and I was pretty sure that they weren’t Jesus’ real friends. I knew that if I actually spoke to Jesus about those people, he’d say, “Oh, those guys… they’re kinda like family, you know? So I can’t just ditch ‘em, but…” I’d cut Jesus off and tell him it was cool, that I had friends like that too. And everything would be cool.

Life went on. My childish and teen obsessions with fantastical novels, rock music, silly comedy shows, girls, and videogames gave way to a more adult existence filled with… fantastical novels, rock music, silly comedy shows, girls, and videogames. Oh. Anyway, I married a Christian girl. She’s more “spiritual” rather than a “rah rah” Jesus fan, but it makes little difference - it all worked, and having Jesus around once in a while didn’t bug me in the least. I’d also picked up an affection for some of Jesus’ music - gospel, specifically, and I was sure that Jesus and I would both get a kick out of sharing a few Mp3’s (depending on how he felt about the legalities involved…). Things between Jesus and me were distant, but good.

Until recently, and I didn’t even realize it until Christmas this year.

This Christmas, my wife and her family went off to church, as is their wont. And I stayed home, as I generally do nowadays, because I no longer feel the need to prove that I can walk into a church without bursting into flames.

And I started thinking about Christmas, and I realized that somehow I no longer thought highly of Jesus. Examining it, I realize that it’s because of a lot of very recent things. It’s because of Bill O’Reilly and his Fox News cronies yelling about the “War on Christmas.” It’s because of an increasingly loud and angry bunch of Jesus fans who seem to have jettisoned the whole tolerance-and-peace thing in favor of getting Jesus into as many public places as possible as though there was little difference between a cross and a Nike swoosh. It’s because of a President who clearly sees our current war as the struggle between the Friends of Jesus and the Friends of Mohammed, as though there were no other teams and as though that conflict was the same as one between God and Satan or Good and Evil. When presidents go to war for Jesus, when preachers call for political assassinations, when America’s undisputed top-dog religion starts acting like a bat-worshipping cult lobbying for its first tax exemption… well, it gets harder and harder to feel any affection for the team mascot.

There were a lot of Christmas specials on TV this year, and I couldn’t enjoy them as much because all the yelling made me aware that their aren’t any Hanukkah or Ramadan specials. [Not that I want ‘em - Hanukkah remains a somewhat sad wannabe holiday to me: Why try to put a celebration of Unexpected Fuel Efficiency up against the birth of the Messiah? It’s bad programming. Jews oughta stick to promoting Passover, a really cool, special effects-laden asskicker of a holiday that actually mandates the drinking of four cups of wine. That’s a holiday. But I digress…]

Nobody likes a sore winner. Jesus seems no less prominent in American life than he was when I was a kid. If anything, he’s more prominent. He’s got a knack for reinventing himself for each generation, not unlike his mom’s namesake, Madonna. His fans, as far as I can see, haven’t got much to complain about.

But they do. More and more. This past year was filled with angry Jesus fans, mostly honest people of faith who’ve been convinced by a cynical political movement that their pal Jesus is being dissed. Most of these folks don’t see much change in their own communities, but they’ve bought into the story that it’s happening somewhere “out there.” So they’re “fighting back.”

For me, the main effect of all this is that I don’t feel as favorably inclined towards Jesus anymore. He looks more and more like the zoned-out rock star who has very little to say as his increasingly unruly and thuggish fans brawl and trample each other while wearing his tour T-shirts. Intellectually, I know that this isn’t all his fans. And of course I realize that this really shouldn’t reflect on Jesus himself. But to me it does. It’s not a considered opinion, it’s just an emotional reaction - I just don’t feel as friendly towards the guy anymore. He seems angry, uncompromising, intolerant. I find the 7 year-old inside me wondering whether he and Santa had a fight.

I hope that changes. It probably will. But for now, if Jesus and I were to run into each other at a holiday party, I’m pretty sure we’d avoid eye contact. If we got forced into a conversation with each other, maybe because we’d both been angling towards the M&M’s bowl or something, it’d be a pretty terse and superficial one. We’d probably mutter a couple of nice things about our host, maybe ask and answer in vague terms about how the other one was doing, and leave out the usual “we oughta get together sometime” pleasantries. That’s just inevitable at the moment: Maybe he’d be psyched about what’s been going on this year. Probably he’d be embarrassed. Either way, the conversation would be really awkward, so I wouldn’t bring it up.

Ultimately, a confirmed secular Jew’s personal relationship with Jesus Christ isn’t really very important. I realize that. But if any of you see Jesus, don’t tell ‘im I say “hi.” Not this year. He might take it the wrong way.