It’s that time again, when everyone is spinning in the maelstrom of cheesy TV commercials, crackers, Secret Santas, festive jumpers, hangovers – and a slew of seasonal anxieties. Will the cards arrive on time? Will the promised turkey materialise? Will the new robot come with batteries? And what on earth can you get for that difficult sister-in-law?
But where, as a self-respecting sceptic, do you draw the line? You won’t, presumably, display models of the manger and the shepherds in your front garden, nor an advent calendar on the mantlepiece to build anticipation for the miracle birth. Perhaps you might be tempted to attend Midnight Mass, just for the spectacle, or to go carol-singing because it’s for charity. But will you be having a Christmas tree? And if so, how are you planning to decorate it?
During these recession-plunged times, you probably wouldn’t want to spend anything at all on fripperies. Instead you could just tart up your existing baubles. The Guardian shows you how to make paper snowflakes, and how to marble your balls. The website YourHomeStyle recommends using chalk paint to spray over the ornaments, or over the tree for a frosty look. And if you really want to cut down, they suggest, you could always make your own chalk paint which, they guarantee, will ensure your tree will look like nobody else’s. Not always in a good way.
For a natural look you don’t need to spend any money at all. Just gather a few twigs, pine cones and springs of holly and smugly parade your green values. As long as you buy locally you could actually be helping the planet as many UK growers will plant new ones for every one cut down – up to 10 each tree according to the Woodland Trust.
And real ones are far better than fake. The Carbon Trust calculates that a two-metre artificial tree has a carbon footprint of around 40kg, more than ten times that of a real tree that’s burned after Christmas. Most artificial trees are made in China, with the dual environmental impact of being made from plastic, PVC and metal, and then shipped overseas. And they’re not recyclable, so when they’re inevitably thrown away, they end up in landfill.
But why have a tree at all? Maybe you’re a bit chary about joining in the collective worship of the baby Jesus, alongside all the paraphernalia of nativities, carol services and church-going. But if you do crave a tree you don’t need to worry that you’re subscribing to the Christian myth. Evergreen trees have been a potent symbol in numerous cultures across the world long before the birth in the stable. Christianity simply co-opted existing rituals and made them its own.
It wasn’t until after 300 BC that the emperor Constantine made Christianity a State 'religion'. Before then, the Roman's winter celebration of Saturnalia bore striking similarities to our Christmas traditions today. People lit candles, gave gifts and decorated trees in honour of Saturn, the god of sewing and seeds. Saturnalia was for some time celebrated around the winter solstice in late December, and some have argued that it is the forebear of our Christmas tradition today. Equally, it could just be that humans down the centuries have liked to feast, drink, make fire and contemplate the regenerative power of nature at the darkest and bleakest point of the year.
In the Middle East many civilisations worshipped a version of the goddess Asherah, the “Queen of Heaven”. Her main symbol was a pole or a tree, which the ancient Canaanites viewed as a signifier of fertility. Druids are thought to have believed that the white berries of mistletoe represented the semen of the gods. Wreaths, in the pagan tradition, were made in a circle to stand for female fertility.
Some pagans regard the red berries of the holly as a symbol of menstrual blood while Wiccans use holly wood to make wands. Both holly and mistletoe were hung in doorways of temples and homes to invoke powers of fertility in those who stood beneath and kissed, causing the spirits of the god and goddess to enter them.
The association of the evergreen fir with carnality hasn’t entirely disappeared. A few years ago outraged residents of a northern town in Russia reacted furiously to the appearance of a phallic-looking Christmas tree outside the local concert hall. Some demanded that authorities remove the bizarre-shaped tree, which they nicknamed the “penis fir” because of its extremely bulbous bottom and shaft-like top.
No wonder they were upset. Once Christianity had taken over, with its obsessive obliteration of sex, no such base allusions were allowed, so the phallic symbols were replaced by Biblical ones.
Red berries came to represent the blood of Christ, and the pointy leaves the crown of thorns placed upon his head as he was crucified. Wreaths, you won’t be surprised to learn, are no longer wombs. Instead they are a sign of God’s eternal love.
If you’re finding all of this stifling symbolism too much to take, you can always create your own atheist semiotic code instead. Let’s start with the evergreen tree itself which in all cultures means immortality and the promise of rebirth. So it’s just as meaningful for humanists, as a celebration of the cycle of life. You’re definitely okay with tinsel, too. Simply redefine it as a manifestation of religious superstition: a shiny rope winding over the leaves of logic.
But what will you put on the top? Presumably not an angel which, in Christian iconography, refers to the one who appeared high in the sky on the first Christmas, heralding the birth of Jesus. A star? Sorry – the star represents the Star of Bethlehem, which guided the Three Wise Men to the stable where Jesus was born.
Instead of these you could select a favourite secular saint. How about a figure of Einstein, to demonstrate the value of science? Or Emmeline Pankhurst for feminism? One year I draped a “Votes for Women” sash round the tree, but the masculine holly snagged it to shreds. For a different version of tribal worship why not a likeness of England football manager Gareth Southgate? These are easily available and probably, these days, cut price. If you don’t want to invest in a real statue, just cut out a picture and paste it on to card. I once did that with a portrait of the American actress, writer and singer Mae West, proclaiming, “I‘m no Angel.”
That was just one of her proud boasts during her seven-decade entertainment career. She was famous for her outspoken sexual appetite and bawdy one-liners. “When I’m good I’m very good,” she said, “but when I’m bad I’m better.” And, she explained, “I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.”
And now to the lights. Christmas trees used to be decorated with candles, symbolising Jesus as a divine light, and the star that led the three wise men. Today’s tree lights can also be seen as the stars and planets in the firmament. But for pagans, the use of light around the winter solstice represented the promise of light in the darkest time of year. Which couldn’t be more humanist.
So let your Christmas tree celebrate that most sacred of secular movements: the Enlightenment. Rejoice in the sign of the rebirth of science, the glory of human endeavour, the triumph of reason over superstition, and a promise of better, more rational times to come.
Provided you don’t get the ones that flicker.
