Christmas Past

Remembering notable events that occurred on Christmas, and appreciating those that matter most.

Sedona, AZ

December 25, 2024

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

– Christina Rossetti and Gustav Holst: In the Bleak Mid-Winter

The search for universal essence began…like so many things…in ancient Greece, on the shores of Ionia.

The first philosophers sought the primary substance that sustains the world…what St. John later called The Word, which was “in the beginning with God”, without which “nothing was made that was made.”

Thales thought this animating element was water. Anaximenes assumed it was air. And Heraclitus hypothesized for fire. But more important than them positing answers is that they asked the question.

Philosophy, like mythology, is a quest…a pursuit of enduring answers and timeless truth. The questions, and the quest, continued for six centuries…around the Mediterranean, into the reign of Augustus.

Then an Answer was found where no one was looking: below a star and under the earth, by humble shepherds and wise Magi, in a small cave beneath Bethlehem.

Earthly eyes that for centuries searched outward through darkness looked inward to the Light. As Chesterton put it, “the God who’d been a circumference became a center.”

Word of The Word spread throughout Palestine and around the sea…from the cave, thru the catacombs, to the cathedrals.

Across the Roman realm…as with Saturnalia to Christmas, or hearth deities to patron saints…adherents deftly adapted pagan customs to Christian belief, and conquered an empire. Rather than throw out the baby with the bathwater, they wisely kept both, and (to again quote Chesterton) used the bathwater to baptize the baby.

The Chef d’œuvre of the World

To Christians, today is a new Creation: the sacred signing ceremony of a cosmic refinancing. We are the paper, God the pen, and the Child the ink.

The Incarnation is the fulcrum in time and the chef d’œuvre of the world. It’s arguably the most important event in history.

But it’s not the only historic one to occur on this date. In fact, it almost certainly didn’t occur on this date.

We don’t know precisely when Christ was born. It wasn’t till Constantine converted to Christianity and co-opted pagan practices that December 25 was decreed to be Christmas.

It’s traditionally a festive occasion, but a quiet day. Stores are closed, performances are paused, and mail doesn’t move. ‘Tis the season for bulls and bears to let bygones by bygones, as we relax and rejoice with family and friends.

A Mixed Bag

But not everyone enjoys a Yuletide lull. Some holiday happenings don’t huddle at home, or on the bottom corner of the back page. Occasionally, they hop into the history books.

Some shenanigans that occurred at Christmas…like the Federal Reserve Act or bombing of North Vietnam…have been fraudulent or heinous. Others, as when the Soviet Union collapsed, were welcome and warranted.

Like a pile of random presents under a community tree, it’s a mixed bag. Let’s open a few, and get a glimpse at some grand moments on Christmas Day.

Christendom Consolidated

At the turn of the ninth century, the King of the Franks crossed the Alps. The year before, the Bishop of Rome had gone the other way. In each instance, Cross and Crown were trying to preserve the realm and protect the Faith.

For the Feast of the Nativity, a large crowd gathered at St. Peter’s in Rome, where the Vicar of Christ was to consecrate the king’s son. But as the king rose from prayer, Pope Leo III placed a crown on his head, and acclaimed him the “new Augustus.”

From that moment, Charlemagne was Holy Roman Emperor, and the Church affirmed its authority to recognize rulers. On Christmas Day in the year 800, Christendom was consolidated.

The Carolingian Renaissance (such as it was) united Europe in an interlude of cultural, educational, and religious revival. But as so often happens when a father plants promising seeds, what actually sprouted were wayward weeds.

Charlemagne’s successors made a mess of things. The next couple centuries, the Franks fell on hard times. The Norseman descended, and gave their name to the north of France.

Captured Conquerors

But they wanted more. In 1066, their duke took a fleet across the channel to attack the Angles and take their throne. After winning the Battle of Hastings, William the Conqueror was crowned King of England on Christmas Day.

The French language embellished the tongue of the native tribes. But before long, the conquered locals had captured their conquerors, and the Franks in Britain became English.

Over the centuries, their descendants grew restless. Some of them crossed the ocean, and created colonies.

Within a couple hundred years, the Mother Country persisted in pushing them around. So they decided to push back…by walking away.

But the British decided to stop their secession and teach them a lesson. They hired some Hessians to help them do it. On Christmas Day in 1776, several of those German mercenaries were huddled at quarters in the town of Trenton.

From the other side of the Delaware, George Washington decided to attack. Under cover of darkness and thru chunks of ice, his ragtag army crossed the river. The Americans took Trenton.

They were unable to hold it. But their Christmas surprise turned the tide, while reinforcing the depleted troops with captured supplies.

The war raged five more years before the British reluctantly relinquished their erstwhile colonies. But over the next few decades, they’d continue to get on each others’ nerves.

In 1812, they fought again, this time in a perfectly pointless war. That skirmish ended two years later, with a treaty signed on (when else?) Christmas Eve in the town of Ghent.

A Hallowed Night in Hell

But it was on another Christmas, a century to the day after the Treaty of Ghent, that an impromptu truce redeemed the world.

Few activities are more incongruous with Christmas than armed conflict. The best battles are ones that aren’t fought, especially in the middle of a worthless war. And none were more useless than World War I.

“The Great War” was supposed to be easy. When they shipped out in August, enlistees thought they’d be home for the holidays. Most who were came back in a box.

Along the western front, soldiers who survived those first few months were packed in pestilential trenches, slaughtering similar men who’d done them no harm.

On the eve of their first Christmas in that God-forsaken inferno, the guns were silent as a chill settled in. Thru the darkness, Allied soldiers heard an inspiring sound from the German line. Recognizing a sacred hymn honoring that holy night, the English and French reciprocated with carols of their own.

From either side of “no man’s land”, wary servicemen invited their “enemy” to cross. With tentative trust and an abundance of caution, they met in the middle. Hands were shaken, greetings were exchanged, and cigarettes were shared.

Before long, corks were popped, soccer was played, and humanity paid homage to the Prince of Peace.

Similar scenes graced the barbed-wire front that scarred France from the Belgian border to the Swiss frontier. Of their own volition, these wretched warriors decided for a day to defy their orders.

On a hallowed night in a theater of Hell, they reminded the world we’re all still human. Perhaps that inferno wasn’t forsaken after all.

Little Moments

Many big moments have occurred on Christmas, including the biggest of all. But often it’s the little moments that matter most.

Christmas is the linchpin of history, the keystone of our calendar. In the Nativity, the Story and the Word become One. Today the Poet enters His poem, the Artist enters His painting, and the Author enters His book.

It’s a time when many of us return where our own stories began, to be with those thru whom it continues. For a few days, we gather with kith and kin, and exalt in the blessings of our indelible bonds.

In the upper hemisphere it’s bleak mid-winter. But while the weather outside is frightful, conditions could always be worse. We could be crossing an icy river on a rickety raft, or stuck in some forlorn trench for no reason at all. Or, like too many Americans, we could be deep in debt, camped on a sidewalk, or missing another meal.

The more fortunate among us are huddled with hot coffee by a warm fire. Trees shelter packages, cellars stock wine, and ovens offer feasts.

But Christmas is special not because of gifts, but for the presence. Even where crowds are small, hearths are happy amid those we love, among whom the coziest Christmases are the most meaningful of all.

JD