Yes, Moses is Christmas

Before Netflix, before TiVo, before internet in the home (at least my home), before I was old enough to drive to Blockbuster, there was holiday TV. Every year the rotation stayed the same: top 10 lists, news recaps and, of course, movies. We’d watch the same ones year after year. Mickey’s Christmas Carol got heavy play when my brothers and I were little. In later years, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation took its place. But I had my own ritual, too. When my brothers were out and my mother was asleep, I’d settle in on the blue chair, flick through the channels and find Charlton Heston talking to a burning bush.

I don’t think I ever watched The Ten Commandments from start to finish. That goes against the spirit of Christmas viewing (if you’re the youngest of three and you have the control, my friend, you are surfing those channels). But over the years, I pieced it all together: The baby in the basket. The staffs into snakes. All those many plagues.

I went to Catholic school for 13 years, but we never did much Old Testament. Everything I learned about Moses I learned from that movie. I haven’t seen it in years. But watching it remains a defining Christmas memory. I think it’s bundled up in my mind with staying up late, with being alone, with finally having my choice of snacks. I was a hugely anxious child. I rarely felt comfortable anywhere or with anyone. But by myself, at Christmas, with the TV on, I felt OK. And for whatever reason, the movie that was on, more than any other, was The Ten Commandments. Merry Christmas, Moses. Maybe I’ll see you next year.