There's a reason why the Pharisees get such bad press in the Gospels. They were the Christians' chief challengers in the struggle for the hearts and minds of the Jews in the immediate aftermath of the Second Destruction of the Temple by the Romans in 70AD. In fact, the Pharisees believed in the primacy of the Golden Rule and placed the highest value on compassion when seeking guidance from scripture. But every story needs a villain, and the Christians conveniently chose their arch-rivals to fill the bill.
As a way of coping with the loss of the Second Temple, the Pharisees continued and expanded a Jewish tradition of looking for new meanings in texts that might help explain what had just happened, a process called midrash. In applying midrash to texts, one skipped past the literal meaning of the words in search of new meanings, new interpretations that would have relevance to present day issues. In her book, "The Bible: A Biography," Karen Armstrong writes: "The goal was never simply to clarify an obscure passage but to address the burning issues of the day."
This wasn't something the Pharisees invented. The idea of reshaping the texts in the Torah to make them more relevant to contemporary audiences had been going on for centuries; nor were the Pharisees the only ones to look for new meaning in old texts. The new kids on the block, the Christians, also undertook to re-examine the Old Testament to find ways in which it presaged the coming of Christ. So yeah, a great deal of effort was expended on rewriting the Bible to fashion a narrative that would explain what was going on, be it the destruction of the Temple or the arrival of a messiah.
There is no better time of the year than Christmas to contemplate the harsh reality that writers don't let the facts get in the way of a good story. The only verifiable fact is that Christ was indeed born. Pretty much everything else we think of when we think of the Nativity -- the manger, the wise men, the virgin birth -- were written into the plot to create links back to the Old Testament in order to bolster the case for Christ as the messiah whose coming had been foretold.
And yet we cling stubbornly to the myth. Why is that? Maybe for the same reason that Hollywood continues to make movies about Moses, a figure who never existed. We need a narrative that explains the ups and downs of life, that connects us to those who went before us, that gives us hope, that somehow makes sense out a world that very often makes no sense at all. Certainly, there is more comfort to be found in the image of the baby Jesus in the arms of his mother than in the enigma that surrounds the riddle of quantum physics. A theory of everything is all well and good, but it doesn't comfort us when we grieve.
We are only human. We still need our gods. We still need our myths. The day that changes is the day we are no longer human. Some might welcome that day. Some might argue that day is much closer than we like to think, that we are well on the way to engineering our successor species. Will our replacements share a creation myth? Will they long for a redeemer, the great programmer in the sky? Or will they sleep a dreamless sleep and awaken to a world governed by algorithms? I for one am glad I won't be around to find out.