“All I want is what I have coming to me. All I want is my fair share,” says Lucy in this little animated film on the dangers of a materialistic view of Christmas. Though there are some chuckles over Charlie Brown’s direction of the school pageant and his search for a suitable tree, A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965) is more of a morality play than a light-hearted romp.
CBS apparently had misgivings about the religious content of the show — one of the few explicitly Christian animated films about Christmas — but this Charles Schulz creation won an Emmy for Best Children’s Program and went on to become an enduring holiday favourite.
The score was written by Vince Guaraldi who boldly chose to do a jazz-flavoured set of compositions instead of the more juvenile music that usually accompanied children’s cartoons. The show was produced by Bill Melendez and Lee Mendelson who were to collaborate on further Charlie Brown specials. A sequel, less profound but more amusing, was the 1992 television special It’s Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown.
“Broncho Billy and the Baby” was a short Christmas allegory by Peter B. Kayne which appeared in The Saturday Evening Post in 1910 and which spawned seven motion pictures. The story is of three bandits who rob the bank at New Jerusalem and head out into the desert to escape. There they encounter a dying woman who extracts a promise from them that they will save her new-born baby. The outlaws battle thirst and the elements and finally one of them makes it back to New Jerusalem with the infant just in time for the Christmas Eve service.
The first cinematic version appeared in 1911, a one-reeler called The Outlaw and the Child; it was followed by three more silent films in 1913, 1916 and 1919. The first sound version (and Universal Studio’s first outdoor talkie) was Hell’s Heroes in 1930, filmed by William Wyler in the Mojave Desert. Charles Bickford, Raymond Hatton, and Fred Kohler Sr play three genuinely hard men and the movie is uncompromising and harsh. Two more sentimental renditions both called Three Godfathers appeared in 1936 and, more memorably, in 1948. The latter was a John Ford western starring John Wayne, Harry Carey Jr. and Pedro Armendariz; it was the only one to dare a happy ending. In 1974 the made-for-television The Godchild moved the plot to three Civil War escapees played by Jack Palance, Jack Warden and Keith Carradine.
Tokyo Godfathers (2003) transfers the story to mean urban streets of contemporary Japan. The baby in this animated movie by director Satoshi Con is tended by three homeless people, a transgender woman, a young girl, and an alcoholic.
“And it came to pass as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which has come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph and the babe lying in a manger.” (Luke 2: 15-16)
Lebrun, Adoration of the Shepherds
The artistic portrayal of the visit of the shepherds to the baby Jesus was at first depicted as a visitation by two or three shepherds with simple gifts such as a lamb. The number of shepherds increased in later medieval art and the scene was often conflated with the Annunciation to the Shepherds or the Adoration of the Magi. In Le Brun’s 1690 Adoration of the Shepherds the host of angels filling the air above the Virgin contrasts with the earth-bound shepherds who crawl toward the centre of the canvas. The piety and simplicity of the shepherds made the scene a favourite subject for centuries — other artists who have painted the scene include Rembrandt, Bassano and El Greco whose Adoration was his last work, meant to hang over his tomb.
El Greco, Adoration of the Shepherds
The incident is also the subject of carols, movies and television specials.
“And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:11.)
Catacomb of Priscilla Magi c. 250 A.D.
Among the earliest examples of Christmas art are depictions of the Adoration of the Magi which appear in Roman catacombs and on sarcophagi of the pre-Constantinian period. It is interesting to note that at a time when the number of Magi was still unfixed, these appear as a trio — almost identical (unlike later representations in which they differed in age and race), dressed as Persians with Phrygian bonnets and pantaloons. In these early depictions, all pre-dating the establishment of Christmas celebrations in Rome, Mary and the baby Jesus are depicted in unsentimental ways — seated on a chair or throne as if receiving a diplomatic mission. The Magi process toward them bearing gifts, often on plates, with gold always the first to be offered. The presence of these representations on funereal art has been attributed to the notion of the dead, who are sometimes featured in their togas in the Magian procession, linking themselves to the Wise Men and seeking salvation at the hands of Jesus in return for the gifts they have brought.
In the fifth-century Roman church of Santa Maria Maggiore where the pope celebrates a mass every Christmas Day, the Magi are depicted both standing before Herod and offering gifts to the baby who is seated on a throne. In the sixth-century mosaics of the church of Sant’Apollinare in Ravenna we begin to see the three Magi as distinct in dress and age.
Ravenna mosaic c 550 A.D.
In Renaissance art the Adoration of the Magi and the Adoration of the Shepherds are often merged into one scene.
The parodies of “Twas the Night Before Christmas” are numberless. Here is one from 1909 which tells us a good deal about the primitive state of car ownership over a century ago.
SANTA CLAUS – 1909 MODEL
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the streets Not a copper was stirring. Asleep on their beats. They dreamed of the footpads that might have been there. Red-ribboned for Christmas, marked “Handle with Care.” Our garage was locked; every window and door Fast bolted and chained; on the level dirt floor Stood our 1910 model, the car of the hour Catalogued 40-horse – really 10-candle power.
The chauffeur had taken off stockings and shoes, (‘T was really a clever professional ruse,) The stockings were his – so his feet wouldn’t jar,- But the shoes he’d removed from the 1910 car. Now, the chauffeur was honest – for honesty pays, But it doesn’t pay much in these motoring days, So the story he tells we may praise or may blame, The essential result of the case is the same.
He says just at midnight he heard such a chatter He ran to the door to see what was the matter, And there stood a car, almost covered with ice He looked at the driver, and then in a trice He saw ‘t was St. Nicholas, think Girls and boys! The tonneau was crowded with toys upon toys. St. Nick! Nick himself! and his fat little belly Would have shook -if he’d laughed like traditional jelly. But the Saint said: “My man, you can help me, no doubt. For my spark-plug is bent and my muffler cut out: One cylinder’s dead, and the others are weak; Planetary transmission makes one fearful shriek; There’s something gone wrong with the oiler, I fear This ice has congealed all my new running gear.”
Now, the chauffeur was kind, and a friend of the boys And the girls who delight in St. Nicholas’ toys; So he hurried at once to my new model car, Stripped off chain, oil-cups, batteries, plug, clutch, and bar, All the movable parts, to the finest of wires, And the pride of my heart, my detachable tires. St. Nicholas sat with a smile on his face, And watched my chauffeur, as with speed, case, and grace He repaired, changed, and tinkered, connected and tested, And worked like a Trojan – he never once rested Until the Saint’s car was in perfect repair. Ah! Would that St. Nicholas hadn’t been there And lastly be cranked; then he stood, flushed with pride, As the old benefactor, mirth shaking his side, Retarded his spark, took a nip from a bottle He pulled from his pocket, pushed over the throttle. The car started slowly, it picked up, it flew, And off went St. Nick my accessories, too.
The chauffeur stood watching, he saw the car pass, Heard the roaring exhaust, smelled the scent of the gas, Heard the good old man say, as he sped out of sight: “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!” Well, my chauffeur is honest, for honesty pays, So I can’t blame the fellow and yet I can’t praise, I suppose it is true but next year I shall be In the garage myself, so that maybe I’ll see, And I’ll have my new rifle and shot-gun. I swear There’ll be no merry Christmas for Nick if he’s there!
Since their arrival in North America in the seventeenth century, Mennonites have been known for their love of a simple lifestyle. In 2001 a number of Canadian Mennonites combined that anticonsumerism with a Marxist perspective on the economy to produce the Buy Nothing Christmas movement, which was inspired by Adbusters’ “Buy Nothing Day,” the Center for a New American Dream, and McKibben’s Hundred Dollar Christmas. Claiming not to wish to abolish Christmas, they aim to “offer a prophetic ‘no’ to the patterns of over-consumption of middle-class North Americans.” Much of their material is phrased in religious terms—a Byzantine icon of Christ with the slogan “Where did I say that you should buy so much stuff to celebrate my birthday?”; a reference to “Mary, the unwed mother of Jesus [who] went against the grain”; a play based on the biblical characters Mary and Martha; and a “Buy Nothing Christmas” liturgy. The group’s founder used religious imagery in a piece for the Washington Post:
To me, Black Friday is essentially our version of a religious pilgrimage. We worship in the mega stores, make schedules around holi- day deals, display allegiance to brands and low prices, offer tithes to the cashiers. Masses of people swarm the stores with hype and fervor. But where’s the meaning? The deep meaning?
We know we’re placating the gods. Which is why Christians need to pull back from the biggest shopping day of the year. Retail products occupy too much space in our homes and hearts.
It’s not that there’s something more important than the economy, it’s that the economy needs to be re-fashioned. Jesus acknowledged wealth and power (give to Caesar what is Caesar’s) and sought to undermine it (woe to the rich, blessed are the poor).
By resisting the impulse to shop for deals on Black Friday we stand at the feet of the retail titans and, with the power of non- cooperation, we challenge the injustices of poor labor conditions, exploitative hiring practices, unfair monopolies, and irresponsible resource extraction.
The Buy Nothing Christmas movement has, inevitably, produced a musical play, A Christmas Karl, based on Dickens’s Christmas Carol: “a tender tale of commercialism, compassion and fruitcake”; they make available gift cards that offer a service or loving gesture instead of a retail product. Their most effective way of gleaning media attention is their street theatre and the cheeky invasions of shopping precincts during the Christmas season, singing parodies of Christmas songs and getting evicted by mall security.
The tv’s on, are you watching? Another product that they’re hawking one more thing that you need, to make life complete Welcome to Consumer Wonderland. In the stores, you will hear it “Pricey gifts, show holiday spirit” That’s what they call it, to get to your wallet, Welcome to Consumer Wonderland. At the mall, we can go out shopping and buy lots of stuff we can’t afford we’ll have lots of fun with our new toys until we realize that we’re still bored.
Unlike earlier Protestant movements that sought to purge Christmas celebrations of excess, the Buy Nothing Christmas movement is avowedly anticapitalist. By attacking Christmas spending, they hope to bring capitalism to its knees. In reply to the question “If we all buy nothing this Christmas, won’t a lot of people lose their jobs?” their website claimed:
Yes, and now we’re getting close to the core reasons for why Buy Nothing Christmas is necessary in the first place: our economy is based on a consumer driven capitalism. And because it’s the only economy we have right now, if we stop shopping we stop the economy…. But the pitfalls of our current economic system (we work too hard to save money to buy things we don’t really need, and we endorse a standard of living that reinforces the gap between the rich and poor and ruins the earth) are simply untenable. Once we finally see the retail sector shrivel…we can redirect our efforts to cleaning up our mess and developing more sustainable activities (how we build our homes, transport ourselves, manufacture clothes, and spend our leisure time).
The Christmas tree was introduced to Russia by the reforming Tsar Peter the Great (r. 1682-1725), a fan of all things Western and the husband of a German princess who would have been familiar with the custom. Though it often featured at the Russian court during the 1700s it was not in widespread use until the mid-19th century as its popularity spread from the imperial family and nobility to the upper middle class. A glimpse of this can be seen in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s 1848 short story “A Christmas Tree and a Wedding” where the children “strip the Christmas tree to the last sweetmeat in the twinkling of an eye.”
During World War I Christmas trees were banned by the Orthodox Holy Synod as being “too German” and after the Revolution, Lenin’s Bolsheviks kept the tree ban in place as part of their drive against religion and Christmas in particular. In 1935 Pavel Postyshev, a member of the Politburo, proposed that Russian children be given a new festival. Stalin agreed, so Ded Moroz and the trees were rehabilitated in 1937. Many of the accoutrements of Christmas – feasting, presents, a magical Gift-Bringer, and a decorated conifer – were now to be associated with New Year’s.
Though Christmas and other Orthodox holidays were restored after the fall of the USSR, Russian families still regard December 31/January 1 as their major holiday and the traditional tree as a New Year ornament.
Ded Moroz or Grandfather Frost, is a figure from Russian folklore, originally a menacing personification of winter and then, by the late 19th century thanks to his portrayal in stories and plays, a Christmas Gift-Bringer to rival St Nicholas. In the early Soviet period he was seen as a remnant of superstition, an enemy of the people, and “an ally of the priest and kulak”. This 1928 illustration sees him being driven away.
However, in the mid-1930s Stalin ordained festivities centred on New Year’s rather than Christmas and Ded Moroz was resurrected to bring presents to the children of the USSR. He was to be accompanied by Snegurochka, the legendary Snow Maiden now said to be the grand-daughter of Grandfather Frost, and New Year Boy. Following the Communist occupation of eastern Europe after World War II, Ded Moroz was imposed on the satellite states as a suitably secular replacement for St Nicholas, angels, or the Christ Child. When Soviet hegemony evaporated in the 1990s, countries like Poland, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia were quick to dispense with the services of Ded Moroz and return to the traditional Christmas Gift-Bringers.
Ded Moroz or his local equivalent remain popular in Russia, Belarus, and some other areas of the former USSR. Though he manifests many of the traits of Santa, the mayor of Moscow has boasted: “Look at our huge, beautiful Ded. You can’t compare him to that puny Santa Claus!” He is portrayed as a majestic figure, an elderly man with a white beard, round hat, a lavish blue robe, and carrying a staff. He travels in a horse-drawn troika and is said to reside in a wooden palace in the northern Russian town of Veliky Ustyug where the Russian postal service delivers all letters from children addressed to him. At New Year’s Eve, his magical travels are tracked by the Russian satellite navigation system.
Though only about 30% of the population professes Christianity, Christmas is a national holiday in South Korea. Seasonal customs are a unique blend of local, Japanese, and American traditions. As in Japan, which had treated Korea as a colony for the first half of the 20th century, Christmas is viewed by many as a time for romance and for couples to spend time together. (K-Pop Christmas music focuses on affairs of the heart rather than the sacred).
Few houses Korean display Christmas lights, but urban stores and streets are colourfully festooned during December, while Christmas trees are gaining popularity in homes. Christmas cards, largely winter-themed rather than religious, are a good way to keep in touch with family and friends.
Gift-giving is not as lavish as in many other parts of the world and largely confined to close family members, but children have gladly adopted the belief in Santa Claus or Santa Grandfather. The Gift-Bringer is sometimes clothed in the red and white familiar to Americans but often he appears as a white-bearded Korean elder of an earlier era in the traditional flat-topped hat. Korean Christmas cake is much more like the North American birthday-style confection which was adopted in Japan. Other favourite seasonal foods include Korean barbecue,
Korean Christians will celebrate with caroling and church services; Midnight Mass at Seoul’s neo-Gothic Myeongdong Cathedral is one of the best attended.
In North Korea, religion is banned and celebrating Christmas could bring harsh penalties
