Happy Capitalistmas!

The true meaning of Christmas

Photo by krakenimages on Unsplash

Happy Capitalistmas and all the best for the New Year!

Most people don’t know that I coined the term Capitalistmas. I used it for decades, mostly on Twitter and Christmas Cards, and now it’s all over the place. When I once mentioned this on Twitter some idiot yelled at me that I couldn’t possibly have coined a term that other people now use — presumably because they don’t understand how time works.

True story.

Anyway, today’s rant isn’t about chronology. I promise that I’m not some sort of unhinged conspiracy theorist with a Santa fetish. I actually want to talk to you about family and celebration. But first I need you to understand why I don’t like Christmas.

How did you celebrate Christmas this year and who did you spend it with?

On Christmas Eve I gave a homeless person all the cash in my wallet. In the UK we have a street paper called The Big Issue that’s sold by, and in support of, homeless people. I’ve written for them in the past. So I bought one from a local vendor and gave her what little cash I had. I wanted to do something for someone else instead of getting caught up in the consumerism of last-minute Christmas Eve shopping.

Life’s too short to spend it shopping.

I wanted the last thing I did before Christmas to be an act of kindness. Now you can call it a random act of kindness, or an act of defiance, or dress it up in any way you want. But make no mistake I know that it’s nothing really, I know that it’s not a big deal, and that this small gesture didn’t do enough to help in a meaningful way. But it’s all the money I had on me and all I could do at the time.

You do what you can. What else can you do?

Then I went home and hung out with my family for a few days. Which was nice. Christmas was surprisingly low-key and relaxed for a change. We managed to get through it without family drama, without a fight or crisis, and without listening to godawful Christmas music. We watched Paddington and Paddington 2. I have fond memories of Paddington from my childhood and secretly loved watching it more than everyone else combined.

I say ‘secretly’ but I’m not fooling anyone. They know that I’m a softie.

They also know me as the killjoy who hates Christmas. I’ve hated Christmas ever since I was a child. Again, as much as I want to say this is a secret, nobody is fooled. They call me The Grinch, or Scrooge, and make me eat Brussels sprouts on Christmas Day because they know I can’t stand sprouts. Forcing me to eat sprouts was a family Christmas tradition until last year when they forgot the sprouts and I was so damned happy about it that they took pity on me.

Families are complicated. This is what I’m saying.

But what’s not to love about Christmas? Yeah. About that.

I begrudge being expected to celebrate a Christian holiday when I’m not a Christian. I hate the crass commercialism that has taken the place of Christmas as a religious holiday. And don’t get me started on the fact that Christmas only exists because Christians built it on top of existing Pagan festivals in an attempt to kill off worship of the old gods.

Sorry, wrong meeting.

You see, my mum is Christian. My Dad is atheist. I’m neither. Both of them think that I’m being awkward for the sake of it. But I’m not a Christian and I’m not a Capitalist. So what’s there to celebrate? Count me out, thanks. The only thing I care about in terms of Christmas is spending time with my family. And even then my willingness to do that is a finite and non-renewable resource.

Left to my own devices I wouldn’t celebrate Christmas at all.

I know, I know, bah humbug and all that. James is the ruiner of fun and all that’s fine and good in the world. Apparently. But I’d much rather celebrate Saturnalia with Romans, get drunk with Druids, sit around a bonfire with Pagans, or get high with Shamans in the snow-covered woods. That sounds like way more fun!

Christmas has always seemed a bit whacky to me.

Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus as being 25th December but, if he even existed, he was probably born in June. It’s supposed to be a religious holiday but most people spend it shopping and stuffing their faces. And most of the festive traditions that we associate with Christmas today have Pagan roots such as celebrations for the Winter Solstice. So you’re celebrating one religion’s attempt to kill off another, in a pointless orgy of consumerism, and most people are ignorant of this or give it little thought.

I’m not telling you how to live. But Christmas is stupid. It offends me on a personal level.

Today’s Christmas traditions have much older and more interesting roots than a baby spending the night in a barn in Bethlehem.

Decorating the tree? A Roman and Norse tradition. The Mistletoe you kiss under was once sacred to Celts and Druids. There’s even some debate about whether testicles and animal entrails were once used to decorate the tree instead of tinsel and baubles — but that was just in my house.

The point is that you get your Christmas dinner, Christmas presents, and Christmas tree thanks to much older celebrations like Saturnalia and Yule.

In Northern Europe, Yule was how they celebrated the winter solstice. It symbolised the return of light and hope amidst the darkest days of winter. The perfect excuse for bonfires, feasts, and the giving of gifts.

And in ancient Rome, Saturnalia was a week-long festival in honour of the god Saturn. They basically spent the week drinking, gambling, and having sex. Needless to say a good time was had by all.

Probably. I don’t know. I wasn’t there. It’s not like I was invited or anything.

Early Christians struggled to get people to ditch their entrenched Pagan customs. So instead they co-opted existing practices, such as Roman sun god worship, and gave them a Christian twist. They strategically built Christmas on top of Roman and Old Norse festivals to undercut them.

Some people argue that this happened organically over time, but Christmas is basically a lesson in cultural appropriation.

Even Santa Claus, the OG of Christmas, is a bit of an odd duck.

Some people think Santa Claus is based on a Sami shaman who ate magic mushrooms and saw flying reindeer. This probably isn’t true — as much as I’d like to believe otherwise. There’s no evidence to support it, and Sami people themselves say that it’s wrong. Santa Claus probably comes from a mix of different traditions, including a Dutch gift-giving figure named Sinterklaas. This character was based on a Greek bishop called Nikolaos of Myra, also known as St. Nicholas, who had a reputation for being generous and giving gifts to children.

The enduring image of Santa Claus as we think of him today, as a jolly fat man with a white beard and dressed in red, comes from a Coca-Cola advert.

But my favourite Santa Claus? That would be Krampus — the demon rumoured to munch on naughty children.

Krampus, a demon in Alpine folklore, was the sinister sidekick of Saint Nicholas. Known for his horns, cloven hooves, and wicked tongue, the sack he carried wasn’t for presents; it was for kidnapping children. Krampus was said to terrify the naughty ones or beat them with a chain or birch branch. The worst-behaved wound up in his sack — a cautionary tale to frighten children into good behaviour.

Because nothing says Christmas like a demon with a sack, am I right?

Like I said, I’ve never been a fan of Christmas. That doesn’t mean I hate every part of it. It has always been more about family to me than a religious celebration or an excuse to go shopping. Family are people you love but don’t necessarily like. At least that’s what I like to tell them on a regular basis. But family is what’s important.

Christmas is never all it’s cracked up to be. So what do you do after the letdown?

The holidays are done, you’re back to the daily grind, and your New Year resolutions? You’ve already thrown them out like leftover Christmas turkey. Forget about it. You’ve always been more ‘Netflix and Chill’ than ‘hit the gym.’

Celebrate the fact that you survived another trip round the sun.

Take some time out for a reality check. Now that the chaos is behind you, face the facts. Your family time isn’t always cosy and warm. But, hey, no-one’s perfect. As much as you try to pretend otherwise. It’s okay to drop the act.

Your Instagram posts aren’t fooling anyone.

Christmas is a marketing ploy. New Year resolutions are a cosmic joke. Celebrate in your own way. Celebrate every damn day, not just when the calendar tells you to. Find joy in the little victories, like getting out of bed before noon or staying in bed until noon.

Forget traditions; think survival tactics.

Make your own family. Surround yourself with people who get you, who laugh at your terrible jokes, and who won’t judge you for wearing the same socks three days in a row.

Family means something different for each of us.

Ditch the fake cheer and embrace the real, messy, unfiltered moments of life. Because life’s too short for forced family photos and cheap red wine. Here’s to a more meaningful year — let’s make it count.

The world is burning. You might as well dance around the bonfire whilst you still can.