The European Origins of Many Modern American Christmas Customs

I have often found the customs and traditions of other cultures to be vibrant, more authentic, less watered-down, than those of my ancestry. I grew up celebrating the holidays in the same way as most of the people around me. In rural North Carolina, growing up with fundamentalist parents, it seemed that everyone around me was either a Baptist or a Methodist. Even other Protestants were often thought of as “weird.”

Of course, I knew about a variety of world religions. I turned my back on Christianity while I was in high school because I could not believe that a loving God would condemn so many good people around the world to eternal torment simply because they did not accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. However, it was only after moving to Raleigh that I realized that there were stores that closed for Jewish holidays, or that Catholic students in the North often got time off from school to go to religious classes in preparation for their confirmations. As a child, I can remember running into an (Eastern) Indian family in a local park and playing in the creek there with their daughter. It was an unusual occurrence. I simply enjoyed myself, as children do, and was curious about their lives and beliefs, while my mother found them to be strange.

Most of my blood is Scotch-Irish or English. I only recently found out that both my parents are also descended from German Lutherans as well, those being my closest immigrant ancestors. But unlike many of the religious and ethnic groups I see around me, my parents’ families had tried so hard to be Americans and had been in this country for so many generations, that to me they seemed to have no remaining culture of their own. They consider the Waldensian people, pre-Reformation Christians who can to the area in 1893 to escape religious persecution in Europe, and certainly anyone thereafter, to be immigrants, whereas they consider themselves Americans. While we never went to worship with them, my parents did grow up in Valdese, North Carolina, side by side with the Waldenses and considered them “okay” because they had worked so hard to be accepted as Americans. In my parent’s minds, this was proven to by an old photograph of one of their first Fourth of July celebrations in which they proudly displayed the stars and stripes, a smile evoked by the fact that in their eagerness, they had the flag upside down. While we often drove the twenty minutes or so to visited my parents old hometown, I was only seldom lucky enough to see bits of the Waldensian culture, but over the years they soaked in, from games of bocci ball to “From This Day Forward,” a local outdoor drama that tells the story of their religious struggle and journey to America. Yet, I did not see the same richness in my own background. We did not have Irish pubs and it would not have mattered if we did, as my parents do not drink and refuse to be in the presence of alcohol. There were no St. Patrick’s Day marches, although the “wearing o’ the green” is an annual tradition that dare not be ignored by local school children under punishment of receiving a pinch from anyone who noticed the deficient. And while, every year, the descendants of various Scottish clans do gather on Grandfather Mountain, in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, for the Highland Games, I have never been. These events serve to preserve and celebrate the history and customs of the Scots. However, my parents never considered attending, and I am the first in my family to begin to compile the genealogical paperwork required to pursue clan membership. My recent ancestors simply lived in the country and farmed the land, or held what were primarily blue-collar jobs in mills and factories. Bleached out like white bread, they seemed to have lost all of their color and flavor, texture and spice. Where was my heritage? Where was that which set us apart and gave us reason to be proud?

It is only, now in San Francisco, living in a place where I am no longer in the majority, as either Protestant or Pagan, that I realize that many of the customs and rituals of my youth are not simply “what everyone does”. While still being very prevalent in marketing and the national media, I have a personal experience with them that is my own. And now being a Wiccan-based Pagan, I add to my experience and perspective a deeper understanding of the pagan origins of many modern day Christian customs.

For example, I know that dates for both Easter and Christmas were chosen to coincide with existing pagan traditions. Being primarily Celtic, and certainly European in origin, I carry within myself the genetic memory of both the Christian traditions and the ancient pagan customs and rituals on which they are based. In the case of Christmas, on which I choose to focus for this piece, John Matthews tells us in his book, The Winter Solstice, that:

The ancient festival from which we derive many of the traditional celebrations associated with Midwinter is the Roman Saturnalia. The Roman presence in Britain and other parts of Europe from the second century B.C. to the fourth century A.D. probably accounts for this. During this time the Romans suppressed many of the older practices of the Celts.

Saturnalia itself developed from the older rituals of Midwinter into a riotous assemblage of fun, laughter, and gift giving…As its name suggests, the celebration was in honor of Saturn, the Roman god of agriculture and time, who is thought to have received his name from the Latin satus, “to sow.” His feast was celebrated from December 17th to the 24th; during which time the normal patterns of social behavior were abandoned. Masters served their slaves (who dined with their usual masters wearing the badge of freedom known as the pillius), the law courts and schools were closed, and the whole community gave itself up to feasting, gambling, and drinking. Indeed, so noisy were the celebrations, that the author Pliny built himself a soundproof room so that he could work during the holiday. (Pg.23)

Seeking to control the raucous celebrations and convert the participants, the early Christian church claimed the midwinter festivals for their own. Mara Freeman in Kindling the Celtic Spirit: Ancient Traditions to Illuminate Your Life Throughout the Seasons, tells us that:

The exact nature of early Celtic celebrations are not known because in the fourth century C.E. the Church of Rome overlaid the old festival of the birth of the Sun with the birth of the Son. The actual birthday of Christ had never been certain, so after much debate the ancient midwinter feast was chosen because people were used to celebrating the birth of a sun god or hero at this time of year. Even then, the Church fathers had to continually remind believers that they were supposed to be worshipping the birth of Christ, not the Sun. For although this holiday now had a new name, many of the same customs were carried on as they had been for thousands of years and for the same reason: to banish the dark and welcome back the light. (Pg. 352)

This theme of summoning back the sun and bringing back the light underlies many traditional customs such as the burning of Yule logs and candles, which later gave way to a the safer alternative of electric lights. In Yule: A Celebration of Light & Warmth, Dorothy Morrison tells us that,

Because fire melted winter’s chill and was thought to encourage the Sun to shine, it was always an important part of the ancient winter festivals. Candles … are thought to have originated with the ancient Romans who gave them to each other as Saturnalia gifts. Their brightness was thought to chase away dark winter demons and urge the Sun back into the sky. In later years, the Christians embraced them as symbols of Christ, the Light of the World; hence they became a large part of the Christmas celebrations we know today (pg. 11).

One of my few positive memories of my father was as a small child, sitting on his lap on Christmas Eve, as he told me the Christmas story, in a room illuminated by only by a tree filled with the twinkling of multi-colored strands of holiday lights, reflected in mirrored glass balls and cascading strands of silver tinsel. Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, we would go down into the woods behind our house and cut down the best looking pine tree that we could find. We would bring it inside, where we would trim down the bottom until it was a good height to fit in our living room. Then we would place it upright in a large bucket, in front of a window so that it could later be seen from the street. We rotated and positioned it to order to show off the best side before making sure that the trunk was well secured in the bucket with rocks, and then filled it with water, which would be checked and refilled as needed throughout the coming days. Then we would cover the bucket and the floor under the tree with decorated paper, preparing the way for presents.

The ritual decoration of the tree itself always proceeded in a specified order, and as a child, I was often lucky enough to have this honor. First came the strands of lights, twining their way up the tree, level by level, to eventually be finished off with a twinkling star or beautiful angel at the top. Strands of garlands followed, then larger ornaments and then smaller ones, finally to be frosted over by an ample layer of the silver Mylar-like strands known as icicles.

Dorothy Morrison tells us that,

This tradition of bringing in the greens is ancient and “dates back to the earliest winter festivals. Because the green never faded from their branches and leaves, evergreens were thought to have power over death and destruction – enough power to defeat whatever winter demons roamed the Earth, and enough tenacity to urge the coming of the Sun.” (Yule, pg. 12.)

She further notes that,

Even though the use of evergreens dates back to the Greeks and Romans, the use of the holiday tree is said to have originated in eighth century Germany. Legend has it that the Christian St. Boniface was trying to convert a group of Druids. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t convince them that the oak tree was neither sacred nor invincible. In desperation, he finally cut one down. When the tree fell, it crushed everything in its path but a single evergreen sapling. Boniface declared it a miracle, then proclaimed that the fir tree belonged to the Christ-child. After that, trees were brought into homes as holiday decorations. It wasn’t until the sixteenth century, however, that the Germans thought to decorate the branches. Some historians say that the first ornaments – fruit, nuts, and cookies – were used as offerings to thank the spirit of the tree. (Yule, Pg. 17)

Speaking of the Druids, mistletoe was another significant plant in this tradition. It “was banned from church Christmas decorations because of it’s druidic associations, but in eighteenth-century Wales, where it grows in profusion, it found favor in country homes as the centerpiece of the kissing bough” (Freeman, pg. 364). My family was lucky enough to occasionally have oaks with the mistletoe growing in their upper branches, and holiday harvesting was often accomplished by shooting it down from out of old, tall oak trees, from heights where the branches were far too thin to safely climb. Care had to be taken not remove too much, and to leave enough behind so that it would continue to grow. The tradition being that one is allowed a kiss from anyone that they can catch under the mistletoe, so it was then placed over doors and entranceways. Special care was taken to place it well out of reach and to remove any of the poisonous leaves and berries that might fall off and be ingested by children or pets. This tradition of kissing under the mistletoe dates back to the old custom of kissing balls or boughs, in which interlocking circles made of ivy and/or various sacred trees such as willow, ash or hazel, were formed into open spheres, from the bottoms of which, springs of mistletoe hung. The inside sometimes held fruits, nuts, figurines, candles, ribbons and other decorations. Today, the springs of mistletoe which were once hung from the balls now stand alone as the essential element of the custom. In Yule, Dorothy Morrison tells us that

Although attributed to the Celts – the Druids, more specifically – historians agree that mistletoe was probably first used in the Greek winter ceremonies. When the holidays spread throughout Europe, though, the Druids gave the parasitic plant sacredness and new meaning. For them, the berried plant symbolized the semen of the god [because of the color and consistency of the crush berries], and was used to bring about great fertility and abundance. Hung over the doorway, it also protected from thunder, lightening and malicious evil.

How did we come to kiss under the mistletoe? Norse legend has it that Frigg ( the mother of Balder) loved Her son so much that She couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Him. She made a pact with the four Elements that nothing in Their realms would do Him harm. Loki (the God of Mayhem) was up to His regular mischief, however. He fashioned an arrow from mistletoe and gave it to Balder’s blind brother. At Loki’s instruction, the arrow was shot and Balder fell dead. The wash of Frigg’s tears restored He son to life, and She was so happy that She declared the mistletoe a plant of luck, love and promise. Since ancient times, people have been kissing under the mistletoe – some of them unwittingly – to received Frigg’s blessing. (Pg. 14.)

However, Mara Freedman tells us a different history, which is almost certainly the modernized, Christianized version of the story:

The custom of kissing beneath the bough originated in the Middle Ages, when it was called the Holy Bough. In the middle [of the kissing ball] was placed a little model of the Christ Child or the Holy Family. As each visitor entered the house over the Christmas season, they were greeted with a ‘kiss of peace,’ a sign that any bad that might have arisen during the year was now forgiven and forgotten. (Pg. 364.)

However, somehow that was never the intention I found in my youth, where the ancient fertility rituals were echoed in our flirtatious attempts to catch certain people under the sprig.

We also often brought in boughs of holly, another of the traditional evergreens, for use in centerpieces on tables and as accents in other decorations. Unlike mistletoe, the children were allowed to help with the handling of this tree, and a simple toy could even be produced by taking a leaf and holding it lengthwise between the thumb and index finger and then blowing lightly so that it would rotate on the axis of two of the thorns. Another fond memory of my childhood was picking up and looked through leaves under a holly tree that also grew in our woods, not far from the oak which held the mistletoe. This particular tree never bore berries, and we were taught that for a tree to produce the trademark red fruits, it had to both be of the correct “sex” and to be with a certain radius of a tree of the opposite sex, in order for the proper pollination to occur.

I find it no coincidence that we call these winter festivities the “holiday season”, with the words “holly day” being just descriptive as “holy day” in regards to this time and its traditions. Holly was another tree originally considered sacred to the Druids, which later held Christian symbolism, and it has proved to be an enduring part of the tradition of bringing in the green. Mara Freeman tells us that:

Bright holly with its glossy leaves and scarlet berries bring the hope of undying life to the dark days of winter. Because it signifies the green of growth together with the warmth of the blood and fire, it has always been the most popular evergreen in northern Europe.

The Romans decorated their homes and temples with holly during Saturnalia and sent one another springs of it with wishes for good health and prosperity. The druids considered holly sacred and used it in healing the sick. It repelled evil spirits and[, like mistletoe,] protected the house from lightening. Country people hung it up in house and stable, particularly at Christmas, for cattle were supposed to thrive if they looked at on Christmas Day. With the coming of Christianity, holly continued to deck the halls, only now its prickly leaves and red berries were a reminder of the crown of thorns and the shedding of Christ’s blood. (Pg. 360.)

In an interesting twist, Dorothy Morrison tells us that “[t]he British have their own holiday tradition concerning the plant, though; since the thorny-leaved plants are considered male and the smooth are known as female, the variety first brought into the house during the holidays determines which gender shall head the house hold for the coming year (pg.13). Unfortunately, even if I had known of this tradition while growing up, the only tree that we has was male.

Regardless of the symbolism, an enduring reminder of this custom is the traditional pre-Christian carol, “Deck the Halls” The Winter Solstice, pg. 90] further details the Christian symbolism found in the holly:

The Holly and the Ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood
The Holly bears the crown.

The Holly bears a blossom
As white as the lily flower
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To be our sweet savior.

The Holly bears a berry,
As red as any blood
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To do poor sinners good.

The Holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas day in the morn.

As Holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all.

While this piece is entitled “The Holly and the Ivy,” in this version, the ivy is never mentioned beyond the first line. The reason becomes more obvious when, harkening back to the pre-Christian traditions, we find that holly and ivy plants were seen as a sexually matched pair, once again invoking the ancient fertility rites. In the Christianization of this song, the male aspect has been kept and converted to service the new God, while the female has been removed. In The Winter Solstice, John Matthews tells us that:

Holly was seen as the male plant, with its bright red berries and sharp prickly leaves, while ivy, clinging and gentler, was perceived as female. Greek myth supplies us a reason for this in the story of the girl who danced before the god Dionysus with all the ardor of a flame – only to fall dead at his feet. The god, moved by her passion, placed her spirit into the [ivy] plant that ever after bore her name, and which clung and embraced everything to which it came close. To this day it is believed to have the power to prevent drunkenness, which is best explained by its association with Dionysus, as god of wine, who was himself torn to pieces and consumed in a Bacchanalian festival that took place at Midwinter (pg 90).

Interestingly enough, while my parents house was covered with ivy, which they simple could not seem to rid themselves of no matter how much they tried, and I never remember ivy being brought inside as a specifically holiday plant.

In talking to my Mother in recent years, I have also found that she remembers and sometimes had previously practiced in what I see as more spiritually rich ways, bringing aspects from her own heritage, but like the ivy, her customs were often put aside or hidden in order to serve and reflect the customs of my father and the surrounding patriarchal culture. It was what was expected of her in the “white bread” society into which she was married and in which I was raised. Even with that, when I was a child, she was the real figurehead which brought the entire family – brother, sister, nieces and nephew – together for huge dinners of turkey or ham on Christmas day. However, as she got older and no longer felt that she had the energy for the required cooking and cleaning, this tradition feel away, with each new household celebrating in its own way. While these gathering hardly rivaled anything in Southern Living magazine, I miss the warmth and community that they brought, but no one else has been able to pull the family together as she did.

Now, even as I celebrate the Pagan festival of Yule at Winter Solstice, around December 20th or 21st, I still see Christmas, December 25th, as a time to spend with family and with all those that you love. I seek to reclaim the joyous traditions and practices of the early pagans, while removing the later Christian layers that preach the need for comfort and salvation. In writing this paper, I see myself looking in a new way at these old customs, using words and phrases that I have not used in over a decade, and ultimately realizing that they too have an underlying spirituality and “juiciness” and that, no, not everyone was raised as I was.

Bibliography
Freeman, Mara. Kindling the Celtic Spirit: Ancient Traditions to Illuminate Your Life Throughout the Seasons. San Francisco: Harper SanFrancisco, 2001.

History of the Town of Valdese website. http://www.ci.valdese.nc.us/history.htm

Matthews, John and Caitlin. The Winter Solstice: The Sacred Traditions of Christmas. Wheaton, Illinois, Quest Books: Theosophical Publishing House, 1998.

Morrison, Dorothy. Yule: A Celebration of Light & Warmth. St. Paul, Minnesota: Llewellyn Publications, 2000.