The Christmas season seems to have turned into a strange procession of signs and symbols that Christ Himself would perhaps not recognize. Between jolly, round men in red suits, flying reindeer, and wreaths full of baubles, the biblical story of a baby born into a lowly manger could not help but take a backseat. How did we let the center of the story drift so far from the stable in Bethlehem? We dress up the season with so much glitter that the Light of the World is obscured.
It is no secret that many of today’s Christmas traditions are not derived from the pages of Scripture. Meanwhile, Santa Claus, jolly and with rosy cheeks with a big sack of gifts, stems from a patchwork figure, mainly Saint Nicholas but perhaps even older, pre-Christian myths. The Christmas tree? Its roots are from the pagan winter solstice festivities whereby evergreen boughs were brought into homes during the bleak cold to remind people of life. As for December 25, that date suspiciously coincides with the Roman festival of Saturnalia, a riotous celebration of the sun god’s “birthday”. When the early Christians chose a date for Christ’s birth, it perhaps hoped to reroute an already popular holiday toward a new, holier celebration.
At first glance, this melding of traditions might not seem so bad—after all, the Christmas tree is pretty, and Saint Nicholas was said to have been a generous man who gave gifts to the poor. But somewhere along the way, the add-ons began to overshadow the Guest of Honor. It’s as if we threw a birthday party, invited every mascot, magician, and mime in town, and then forgot to acknowledge the one whose name is on the cake. Christ, the supposed celebrant, is left sitting quietly in the corner while everyone else claps for Santa’s grand entrance.
Some say these additions are harmless and that symbols like Santa Claus bring joy and magic to children. Sure, I get that. I smiled, too, when kids went squealing with delight to meet Santa at a mall, but I couldn’t help feeling a pang of irony: children can describe the North Pole in detail, but when asked why Christmas is celebrated, they sometimes stare blankly. It’s not their fault—we adults set the stage. We allow Santa to come centerstage while Christ stays buried in a plastic nativity scene, not to be taken out and dusted until the season’s end.
The problem extends further than misplaced priorities to an unnerving reality that these symbols come from beliefs that had nothing whatsoever to do with Christianity in the first place. Take Saturnalia, for instance, which was a feast and gift-giving event that frequently turned into wanton indulgence. Sound familiar? The Christmas rush today is just about the same as modern-day Saturnalia, where people are trampling others in stores just to get a half-priced blender and/or all sorts of tech gadgets. A season to honor the Savior born in poverty has been turned into times of excess and commercial frenzy.
And here’s where it gets stickier: the date itself. December 25 wasn’t chosen because Christ’s actual birthdate was known. In historical terms, there’s no hard evidence that He was born on that day. Some scholars even propose spring or autumn as more probable seasons due to the presence of shepherds tending their flocks in open fields. If this were true, then the whole spectacle of December 25—a day lifted from pagan origins, is more convenient than sacred.
I am not saying we should regard the Christmas trees and Santa Claus as harmful. But symbols are powerful things that shape our experience in many ways. The risk doesn’t lie in tradition per se but in obscuring the purpose behind those traditions: all this may remain in the malls, the shining tree, and gifts galore—but we need to bear in mind why we get together in the end. Christ should not have to compete for our attention, not on His supposed birthday.
Perhaps what we need is a quiet return to the stable. Strip away the tinsel, the songs about sleigh bells, and the last-minute shopping panic, and what’s left is something beautifully simple: a child born in humility to make salvation available for those who believe. That imagery—a baby in a manger, surrounded by the soft light of a star—is where our focus belongs. The rest, though pretty and festive, are just decorations. Let them enhance, not replace, the true story. After all, what good is a holiday if we lose the reason for its observance?