Christmas Illusions
By Lydia M. Crabtree
Cofounder, Author, HPs
When I was a Christian, the struggle between “the world” and “God’s way” was the topic of frequent sermons. The world was evil with its rock-and-roll, drugs, sex, television and commercialism. We didn’t have a TV for years, and I didn’t listen to rock-and-roll until I was 15 years old (and only because I was a sneak). I wasn’t afraid of the world, just raised with an understanding that “the world” and “God” didn’t really mix.
This understanding was fueled, in part, by the Bible verse that states, “As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world” (John 15:19, NIV). I was taught how different we were as Christians, how outside of everyone we were. Only those who had forsaken the world were worthy to associate with. I could only connect with sinners if I was witnessing to them, trying to save them from the world. I was cautioned to never get too close, because like a cold, their sin could infect me.
When I became a Witch, I became part of the world. I stood up and said that Jesus Christ didn’t chose me, the Goddess and God did. I tried to reconnect with the natural rhythms modern living and Christianity had separated me from. I started the undoing of years of teaching, drilling and indoctrination. I understood that God and Goddess are the world, and to separate myself from the earth, the stars and the sky is to separate myself from Divinity.
Despite this, the conflict rages in the Pagan community and my own heart. Christianity is everywhere. The unofficial religion of the West where there is no room for anyone else, except maybe Judaism. I can easily go and buy a cross ornament in any size, shape or decoration I want; however, I had to make my pentacle ornaments. Neopagans have become extremely skilled at transmuting the meaning of “Christmas” decorations. We scour the Christmas aisles at discount and dollar stores looking for the Horned God dressed up like a reindeer or stars that can symbolize the pentagram of power or natural ornaments that will bring the Earth inside for us to worship. Even the greeting inundates us everywhere we go: “Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas.”
When I hear this now, my heart sinks, and I have a burning desire to answer, “Blessed Yule!” To the mortification of my Husband Priest, Stone, sometimes I do.
Tree Bear, my 9-year-old, unearthed my frustration and fervor on this topic while we were decorating the Yule Tree. He wanted to hang a Daffy Duck ornament on the tree. There is a Yule tree in his room, and I suggested he put it there, leaving it off the big tree. He asked why, and as the words tumbled out of my mouth in a passionate speech that caused my Husband Priest to stop decorating and my son’s jaw to drop, I said, “Yule isn’t about Daffy Duck or Bob the Builder or Coca-Cola. It is about the Holly King and the Oak King. The Oak King being born on Solstice morning and the Holly King dying so that he might live. It’s about preparing for the ending of the long night yet steeling ourselves against the night that remains. It’s about celebrating the energy of return from the journey into the Underworld started at Samhein. It’s about the earth, the sky and the stars and the seasons they mark.”
Tree Bear looked at me, shut his mouth and shrugged his shoulders saying, “Well you could have just said no.”
I felt frustration as the sacredness of my holiday was being overlooked and undervalued by big commercial Christmas in my own home! I took drastic action. Tree Bear had dedicated to the Pagan path and my Husband Priest had been initiated into his 3rd Degree the past calendar year. We were all decidedly not Christian. We were not celebrating Christian holidays anymore.
I gave the proclamation to Stone first. I tried to reason it out that Tree Bear would visit his biological father on Christmas Day that year. Yule was on Sunday, and I asked to have Tree Bear the weekend before Christmas in exchange for his going to his dad’s on Christmas Eve Day instead of Christmas Day.
I was ready for the objections. Stone’s childhood was charmed, compared to mine, which makes him extremely attached to traditions. His tree was filled with Daffy Duck ornaments (which is why Tree Bear has his own tree). They left cookies and milk for Santa until he was 14. They went to Christmas Eve service, and they tracked Santa on the television so they knew when to go to bed. Christmas was moderately about Christianity, and Stone felt there was no reason to change.
The discussion that ensued was passionate. I argued that we could leave out cookies for the Holly King on Yule Night, which meant I would still bake cookies with Tree Bear. They would be Yule cookies. We could stay up and wait for the Oak King to dawn and have a celebratory ritual in his light. Then we could eat breakfast, open gifts and take a nap, without missing any important football games or special programs on TV. I would make a big turkey on Yule day, and we could invite our extended family over. No traditions would be lost; they would just be moved back a few days.
Stone said NORAD only tracks Santa on Christmas Eve, and it would be a big adjustment. This was his only argument for celebrating on Christmas.
I said, “We aren’t Christians, and it feels almost sacrilegious to celebrate a holiday we don’t even believe in.”
Truth was, I had given this a lot of thought. I was tired of going to bed in anticipation of the birth of a mythical figure whose name was used to justify burning, death, destruction, war and many other unholy things. The mythical figure who the Catholic Church used to assimilate and destroy the pagan peoples.
I was tired of celebrating Santa when he is a pale imitation of the Holly King, old and worn out from months of harvest, dying to make room for the Oak King and the new life to come. In his death, he is jolly, his body reflects his abundance, and his spirit is guaranteed to return. What an invaluable lesson about accepting and meeting death and reincarnation that Christmas completely overlooks. I have a figurine of a beautiful Holly King decked out in winter blue ringing a bell. Ringing a bell for his own death and to let us know, as he dies Yule night, the Oak King is born Yule morning. Ringing a bell, like my Family Coven will, every year at dawn on Yule.
Stone quickly saw this was one of those things that I was not going to let up about and gave in.
Tree Bear was next to hear the decree. I went through my spill all over about traditions staying the same just being on new days, and we would add a ritual to the morning routine. He seemed moderately concerned. I said, “You get to open your gifts two days earlier then go spend the night with your dad on Christmas Eve and open gifts again on Christmas morning.”
“I get to open gifts earlier!” he said with bravado. “That’s just great! Let’s do that.”
Now that I had overcome my at-home objections, I turned to shift the mindset of my Family Coven. Every time someone says “Christmas” in my house, I gently correct with “Yule.” Of course, this is proving to be a little more difficult because Christmas, as a word, is habit. Tree Bear and I have a contest going about who can catch the other saying “Christmas” more often. I am losing.
At least my Family Coven is trying. There are Neopagans who look at me like I have lost my mind when I tell them I am not celebrating Christmas anymore. It’s as if I have broken some secret taboo, broken faith with the rest of the world. And I have! I am of the world. The world I live in celebrates these sacred moments when the stars foretell the important things to happen. The world is in darkness, and the light returns when Capricorn is 1° to the sun, not when some mythical baby is suppose to have been born (forget that Jesus was likely born in June).
Christmas isn’t my holiday, and its myth and legend mask the true meaning of the season. Jesus isn’t the “Reason for the Season.” The light, the sun is, and all myths about the birth or rebirth of holy boys were created to gloss over the pagan people’s knowledge of that fact. Christmas, with its Nativity, and retelling of myth to suit a Christian method is insidious, and many Pagans are perpetuating the illusion.
Perhaps it is because Neopagans have just come off two holidays that reflect what is really happening in the world, Halloween/Samhein and Thanksgiving Day. These holidays that celebrate the harvest and reflect the descent into the underworld are times when being Pagan isn’t even noticeable. We can blend in and be one with everyone else, secure in our private knowledge that we donn witch costumes because we are witches.
Maybe the longest night of Neopaganism is still upon us. The societal pressures to celebrate Christmas reflect the darkness in which the Goddess traditions have lived for hundreds of years. When the Goddess’ own people stand up and celebrate her and her consort and their holidays, the light will dawn, and the Goddess religion will have finally returned, a new light in the world, of the world, for the world.