Pagan Christmas
By: Misty Bell Stiers
Tags: Witch, Christmas, Magic, Pagan

I wrote this in 2006. Each year I post it, and while it’s been 14 years now, it’s all the more relevant this year: this year when we have all been through so much. This year when we have faced down a global pandemic, political unrest and a social and cultural awakening long in coming (and I hope long-lasting).

A year when we were all isolated and longing for connection. When we were spurred into taking hard looks at ourselves and forced to admit we could be better. Do more.

Where a lot of his faces feeling helpless against so much that is so big, and yet not hopeless and got to work.

Now, when I feel it’s more important then ever to recognize we each have the power to create great, ever-lasting change.

Now, when I want you to feel the magic and possibility — - to feel empowered and joyous and loving. Open and inspired for change.

Hopeful.

We need that so much. We all need it now more than ever.

And so I want to share with you how my tiny Pagan family celebrates Christmas. Not Yule or Solstice — but why we participate and revel in this oh so Christian season. With all our hearts….

This all started with a conversation we were having on how we would. explain to our someday-kids what Christmas was, and then, most. confusingly, why we celebrate it. I mean, Sam and I are Pagans. I am a Witch. There is. no denying it, no shying away from it. And that is how we plan to raise. our children. There will be no Easter for them, no All Saints Day. How. will we explain the sudden onslaught of Christian winter-time tradition. in our home?

Because, well, there it is. It’s not blatant, or. overly wrought, but it’s there nonetheless. Sure, instead of a crèche we. have a Rudolph scene complete with not one, but FOUR Bumbles and three Jedis. There are the trees, the ornaments, the lights, my eight hour playlist of Christmas carols … everything.

Not to mention, of course, there will be a Christmas morning. Fully resplendent with hot chocolate, homemade cinnamon rolls, filled stockings and presents under the tree.

How. to explain? Sam mentioned it might be a tad confusing. I scoffed at. him. He mentioned perhaps we could scale back a little. I almost refused. to continue speaking to him.

I mean, I LURVE me some holidays. And while our “true” holiday is Solstice, which our family celebrates in full rigmarole and joyous occasion — I simply will not give up Christmas morning. Or the carols. (All the other stuff I. could keep, as it was all stolen/borrowed/repurposed from Pagan traditions to begin with anyway. But the “Silent Nights,” “Holy Holies” and “God Rest Ye’s” — there’s no real getting around that.)

Yet to me, the explanation is quite simple.

I’m not celebrating the birth of our savior, god’s only son. I’m not celebrating all that entails, and by the look of the general marketplace, neither are a lot of other people.

I am, however, celebrating the birth of a child and the hope that surrounded that child. Christmas, to me, is about the sheer wonder and amazing tenacity a large part of the world showed (shows) over the birth of one, small, helpless babe.

I love the story. I always have. A. small family, not royal, not famous, not rich, expects a child. Under circumstances that aren’t ideal. They do their best to prepare; they do their best to be safe. And while they are trying desperately to keep it. together — to make a home, a safe respite for their small surprise blessing — something else happens. The news inexplicably spreads. Kings lift up their scabbards, robes, and scepters and begin traveling to where they believe the baby will be. Small groups of shepherds herd their flocks to be near; people gather. All kinds of people from all kinds of places. Backgrounds, beliefs and alliances are set aside. They simply gather with hope in their hearts, anticipation in their souls.

They believe that this small babe will change the world. Make it better. Make it brighter, bring them light.

They don’t know how, or why. Just that this will happen. And they want to. play a part. They want to honor this symbol of hope, this symbol of light. This child. They want to kneel before him, before his family, on that dark night. They know not what else to do.

But somehow, in the story, that is enough; that they believe in the hope of this child. That the world can be made better, different, more lovely. Peaceful. Hopeful. Beautiful.

By this, the smallest of creatures.

(Who among us, even today, wants to believe differently?)

People’s hearts were turned that night. And stayed turned for centuries. All because one small child was born. Because people believed that was all it took.

One. Small. Child.

Savior or no, I still believe that’s all it takes. The hope that one small, helpless, lone being can change the course of a world gone wrong; can turn hearts and minds to a. better place. To make a better place.

Sure, most people celebrate Christmas because their savior was born that night. I. celebrate because a CHILD was born that night. That thousands were — and are, and will continue to be — born that night, this night, and all the nights to follow. And with each comes the blessed hope that things will be made Right. Better. Peaceful.

Our world can change its course, and with every night star, every birth, every gathering — that hope should be renewed. Should be recognized, acted upon, celebrated.

Because, each of us, in our time, was that child. We were that hope. We are that hope. We perpetuate it.

This world will change. It will become the place those kings and shepherds dreamed of. The one angels from the stars announced and promised. We. just need to have that kind of belief, that kind of hope in our hearts. Christmas is a time, I believe, to remember that. This Christmas especially.

If once, centuries ago, the world stopped for a mere night in the awe of hope that one small child would bring light to a darkening place — than perhaps we should too. Perhaps the idea that one small, ordinary person can change our world, our lives, isn’t such a crazy notion.

Perhaps the thought that we can do so isn’t so crazy, either.

That’s what I tell my kids at least. That they were born one day, to a small family that desperately only wanted to do right by them — give. them a safe, happy home. And that this family believed, with everything in their hearts, that their child would make this crazy, tossed up, frightening world a truly brighter and better place.

That we each can.

And every Christmas season I recognize that. That each child is born beneath. bright, clear stars — with the power to bring kings to their knees and make angels sing. And that is worth recognizing, celebrating, honoring.

At least I think so.

Merry Christmas, from your very own witch. xo