With the odd weather continuing for much of the UK, and me, still updating what was lost in the transfer between web hosts, I shall endeavour to write some gardening blurb soon. In the mean-time, indulge me if you will.
I have a theory.
It is not a concrete theory, based entirely on factual evidence. It is in actual fact conjecture. But nevertheless it is a theory.
Some years ago, when I was bored and wondering upon the meaning of life, the universe and well, you get the idea, I came across an odd piece of research. Somebody had actually sat down and worked out the exact birthday of Jesus. April 17th. They had done this by way of pain-staking research. Time of year, constelllations most likely to be mistaken as a giant star, year, Roman ruler, etc, etc. Thus they had come to this wonderful place. The birthday of a God. Or a prophet. Or a man. Either way, as Jesus is seen at least as a reasonably safe bet to be an historical figure or an amalgim, we have arrived at a birth date.
So, where does that leave my theory. Nowhere as yet. But I shall explain and it will all become clear. If one looks at Roman history, it is alive with psychopaths. Much of the empire was ruled by or indeed managed by psychopaths. People rather like Joseph Stalin, hell bent on autocratic rule, no matter what the cost.
So, if we zip along say 35 years from the date of Jesus’ birth to the time of his demise, we have in Palestine a civil servant who’s sole aim is the extension of power of his paternal autocratic overlord, Tiberius. He sees before him a man who claims to be the son of a random god. He also sees before him, somebody who could cause lots of trouble. So he sits and he listens to the prosecution and decides that Jesus is bad news. So in his psychopathic manner he nonchalantly washes his hands whilst working out what to do. Then a small dark shard of genius enters his mind. He condemns the man. There are curses and sighs, could this be true. Jesus is to be crucified. The supporters look about them in worry. “When?” they cry. ” How long do we have?” They ask of the prefect. In a last twist of darkness Pilate turns to Jesus and asks him “When’s your birthday?”
Which explains why Easter is not Oestre and Christmas never was.
Just a theory mind you.
Happy spring gardening!