Once again I return with my traditional Christmas post, because, as with all good
Traditions, it has the right amount of fact while not taking itself too
seriously. And at the end of yet another tumultuous year, we do need a bit of not taking oneself too seriously!
Let it raise a smile as snippets are retold over a glass of something
warming and yet another brandy-laced mince pie.
Wishing all my readers, of this blog and of my novels,
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.
Striding in from the myths and mists of pre-history, this jovial spirit arrived at the solstice to
partake in the mid-winter 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.
Not
a terrible lot changed when the Roman Legions clanked up the beaches to make a home in these
lands. They brought with them Saturnalia, a festival of light. Homes
were garlanded with evergreen, and a good deal of partying was
undertaken beneath the watchful eye of their god
of agriculture, Saturn, often depicted carrying a scythe.
So far so
good.
Enter Christianity and a need by the early church to leverage ‘Jesus the
Christ’ against entrenched Paganism. No one knew the birthdate of Jesus of Nazareth, so
the Pope of the time decided Jesus should be given one. The Pagan equinox
celebrations of spring and autumn had already been appropriated, so why not
align the day to the biggest Pagan 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.
The
Romans assimiliated or left for sunnier shores, and the Saxons and Jutes invaded from Germania, bringing
along their Woden and winter’s Father Time. They also believed in eat, drink and make merry, so they fitted in quite well.
A few centuries later came an invasion by the Norse and Danes (Vikings) who also believed in eat, drink and make merry. [Careful readers may notice a pattern developing.]
They brought along their own version of Woden – Odin – who,
during mid-winter, took on the manifestation of Jul – Yule – in that he
was portly, white-bearded signifying age, had the ability to see into
people’s minds and know if they’d been good or not-so-good, and rode a
horse, Sleipnir, which travelled at terrifying speed due to it having
eight legs.
Father Christmas as we know him was beginning to coalesce.
Saint Nicholas didn’t truly put in an appearance on British shores until
these islands were invaded yet again [becoming monotonous, isn't it?] this time in 1066 by ex-Vikings,
the Normans, hailing from what is now a region of northern France. 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 abolish Christmastide – ie the eat, drink and make merry
– though they certainly gave it a determined try. In retaliation,
Father Christmas, as he was by then well known, made appearances in
Mummer’s Plays, to raise a glass or an obscene gesture (or
both) to the
Puritan Parliament.
And what happened to the Puritans? They were happily waved
off to
America (more or less).
 |
Mummers entering a well-to-do Victorian house, Father
Christmas leading. Note his holly staff & crown, and drinker’s false 'red' nose.
Assorted
characters in the troupe following include St George & the Dragon,
England’s patron saint. Illustration, by Robert Seymour, from ‘The Book
of Christmas’ by
Thomas Kibble Hervey, 1836. Image in Public Domain via Wikimedia. (click to enlarge)
|
It was in America, after the War of Independence in the 18th century, that
the populace began to embrace a certain Sinterklaas from the Dutch tradition of Saint Nicholas,
doubtless because it wasn’t British. [How's that for holding a grudge?]
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 and Jul. Even the reindeer and sled mentioned in the poem came
from the Sámi people of Lapland, who the Norse peoples to the south of
them firmly believed were ‘magicians’.
The Coca-Cola Company? Bah humbug! Late to the party. Father Christmas,
even Santa Claus, 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.
Which finally brings me to NORAD. Yes, the North American
Aerospace Defence Command based in Colorado Springs.
In 1955 Sears
Roebuck & Company, also based in Colorado Springs, placed an
advertisement in the press inviting children to phone Santa. Except the
phone number was misprinted. Guess who was inundated with phone calls?
CONAD – the Continental Air Defence Command and forerunner of NORAD.
Despite being in the grips of the Cold War with personnel supposedly watching
for in-coming missiles from you-know-where, the Defence Command put
diplomacy to the fore and gave radar updates to children on the progress
of Santa from the North Pole.
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 visit the Elf Village where there are
activities and games to keep your little ones enthralled. Or you. [Go on, you know you want to.]
So, wherever you are, and whatever spirit of Nature you believe in, be sure to eat, drink and make merry this festive season. It's a Tradition.
~~~~~
With grateful thanks to History Today, Time-Travel
Britain, Museum of UnNatural Mystery, various Wikipedia pages, and NORAD, for their assistance in
producing this tongue-firmly-in-cheek blogpost.
