Here I am, back again with my traditional Christmas post, because, as with all good
Traditions, it has the right amount of fact while not taking itself too
seriously.
Let it raise a smile as snippets are retold over a glass of something warming and yet another mince pie.
Wishing all my readers, of this blog and of my books, a wonderful festive season, whatever your beliefs.
Who will be leaving gifts at your hearth?
Here in the UK it is definitely Father Christmas who will be visiting,
and despite his title he has nothing to do with Christianity, or
parenthood, or even humans. It is the spirit of Mid-Winter, a
personification clothed in evergreen, wrapped in holly and ivy, and
garlanded in red berries and mistletoe. It is a jovial spirit, come at the solstice to
partake in the mid-winter’s frivolities. The people welcomed it with
entertainment, plied it with food and alcoholic beverages, and gave
offerings so that it might not linger too long but instead beat smooth a
path for an early spring.
Enter Christianity and a need by the early church to leverage ‘Jesus the Christ’ against entrenched Paganism. No one knew Jesus’ birth date, so the Pope of the time decided Jesus should be given one. The Pagan equinox celebrations of spring and autumn had already been coveted, so why not align the day to the biggest celebration of them all? A bishop from the Middle East, recently raised to sainthood for his good works, was also pressed into action: Nicholas (more or less). In the face of such worthiness the Brits remained steadfastedly wedded to their eat, drink and make merry.
Saint Nicholas didn’t truly put in an appearance on British shores until the islands were invaded yet again, this time in 1066 by ex-Vikings, the Normans. However, no matter how the populace was “encouraged” to be pious, once out of the church doors after celebrating Jesus’ birthday, eat, drink and make merry remained the national stance. Not even the Puritans, who in the mid-17th century took the field and the country during the English Civil War, could fully ban Christmastide – ie the eat, drink and make merry – and Father Christmas, as he was by then known, made appearances in Mummer’s Plays, basically to raise a glass [ie two fingers] to the Puritan Parliament. And what happened to the Puritans? We happily waved them off to America (more or less).
It was there, after the War of Independence in the 18th century, that the populace began to embrace a Sinter Klaas from the Dutch tradition, doubtless because it wasn’t English (ungrateful individuals). In 1810 the New York Historical Society held a dinner in honour of Saint Nicholas, and twelve years later Clement Moore, drawing on Norse and Germanic folklore, wrote a poem A Visit from St Nicholas which was subsequently published as The Night Before Christmas. Thus Santa Claus came into his own, wearing the vestiges of Father Christmas/Jul. Even the reindeer and sled mentioned in the poem came from the Sammi people of Lapland, who the Viking peoples to the south of them firmly believed were ‘magicians’.
The Coca-Cola Company? Bah humbug! Late to the party. Santa Claus and even Father Christmas were wearing red before it showed up with its non-alcoholic beverage. But it had, and still has if its vivid red pantechnicon is anything to go by, damned good copywriters.
And thanks to the late Colonel Harry Shoup, Director of Operations at the time, it still does. Check on Santa’s progress at https://www.noradsanta.org/ Arrive before Rudolph gathers the other reindeer and there are activities and games to keep you enthralled. Yes, honest. [Aren't these people supposed to be protecting the Western World??]