How should we engage with a holiday that feels both sacred and suspect?
Every December, the clash of Christmas traditions and their perceived origins seems to resurface in pop culture and Christian circles alike. Alongside cheerful carolers and festive evergreens are debates about “pagan” roots and the commercialization of the holiday, ensuring that “the most wonderful time of the year” nevertheless remains a season rife with drama. It doesn’t help that neopagans take to social media with discussions about Yuletide traditions and how they were “stolen” by Christianity, while others argue over whether Christmas has drifted too far from its religious significance. Meanwhile, some Christians abstain from celebrating the holiday altogether, citing a lack of Scriptural evidence and its entanglement with ancient pagan practices.
For many Christians, this strange convergence of joy and controversy creates something of an existential crisis: how should we engage with a holiday that feels both sacred and suspect? This uncertainty, it seems to me, stems from a mix of incomplete histories, popular misconceptions, and genuine concerns about faithfulness. Is Christmas truly a Christian holiday, or is it just a quaint veneer atop an ancient pagan celebration? Are cherished traditions like evergreen trees, Yule logs, and feasting innocent cultural adaptations or idolatrous compromises? Without clear answers, some choose avoidance, others cling to what feels sacred, and more than a few are left in limbo—celebrating Christmas “just because,” and without fully understanding or appreciating either its origins or implications.
My purpose here is not to fan the flames of controversy or discourage celebration. Rather, my aim is to better equip you, reader—Christian or not—with perhaps a clearer understanding of the relationship between Christmas and Yuletide. By (hopefully) setting the record a little straighter on these traditions and their historical evolution, Christians can make better-informed choices about how to approach the holiday—without guilt, fear, or confusion.
The “cyclical nature” of their yearly existence […] shaped their lives in profound ways, right down to their sense of the supernatural.
Long before Christmas was celebrated in the ways we are familiar with today, the peoples of Northern Europe marked the winter solstice with a festival known as Yuletide. The term Yule is likely rooted in the Old Norse term jól and the similar Old English geōl, and may derive from an older Germanic root meaning “wheel.” However, its etymological origins remain uncertain and are a topic of scholarly debate, along with the specific dates on which Yule observations began. Regardless, Yuletide itself was a midwinter celebration tied to the natural rhythms of the year. And the solstice—the shortest day of the year—was a time of both reverence and relief for the people of the North.
While modern pop culture frequently reduces the Northmen to their Viking exploits—raiding, pillaging, and longship adventuring—the reality of day-to-day life in these societies was more nuanced. The term “viking” was more akin to something one did than an ethnicity. One “went a-viking” (from the Old Norse að fara í víking, “to go on a viking voyage”), and that usually involved seafaring with intent to raid or trade along the vast waterways of Northern Europe. A víkingr would therefore be a person who engaged in these activities, similar to how we might conceive of a pirate in modern contexts. The vast majority of Northern Europeans, however, were not Vikings. They were farmers, herders, and fishers—agrarians and pastoralists whose survival in their distinct climate conditions, which were admittedly harsher than those of say, the Mediterranean region, depended on their relationship with the land, the seasons, and their livestock.
For these communities, the solstice signaled the gradual return of the sun and the start of preparations for the upcoming agricultural season. The darkest days of winter were a time to huddle together, share food, tell stories, and invoke divine favor for the survival of both the people and their animals in anticipation of the coming year. The “cyclical nature” of their yearly existence—seasons of light and darkness, sowing and harvesting—shaped their lives in profound ways, right down to their sense of the supernatural.
The Saga of Haakon the Good, found in Heimskringla, offers perhaps the clearest glimpse into Yuletide celebrations as both religious and communal occasions in pre-Christian Scandinavia. Written by the notorious Icelander Snorri Sturluson in the 13th century, the saga recounts how Haakon I, a Christian king of Norway, attempted to align the timing of the traditional Yule festival with Christmas as part of his broader effort to Christianize the region. According to the saga, Yuletide was already deeply entrenched in Norse culture, and was characterized by feasting, drinking, and sacrifices to the gods. These rituals were essential acts of devotion and gratitude, likely aimed at ensuring prosperity and fertility in the year to come.
The gods in question would have been deities like Odin, Freyr, and Thor, who were believed to preside over key aspects of life and nature—wisdom and protection, fertility and abundance, and the elemental forces of the natural world, respectively. These characters have received a new lease on life in the current zeitgeist, thanks to the likes of Marvel movies and video games, but their functions in Norse culture historically are of primary concern here.
Odin, as the leader of the spectral Wild Hunt, was of particular interest during Yuletide. The Wild Hunt is a recurring motif in Germanic and later European folklore, envisioned as a ghostly procession of riders sweeping through the midwinter skies, usually accompanied by fierce winds and wintry storms. Offerings and rituals during Yuletide were probably aimed in part at appeasing Odin during his eerie and awe-inspiring passage, ensuring his favor and protection during this time when the boundary between the physical and spiritual realms grew thin, leading to an increase in supernatural activity.
All of these traditions reveal a Yuletide that was as practical as it was sacred—a festival designed to stave off the cold and darkness of winter.
The well-known Yule log was also central to the festivities. A large piece of wood, typically selected and prepared with great care, was placed in the hearth, and kindled with the expectation of burning continuously throughout the Yuletide celebrations. Some traditions, like those found in Serbia, maintain that the Yule log was from an oak, which was a tree of some significance to Thor. Perhaps the ashes of the Yule log were collected afterward and kept as charms. Nowadays, Yule logs will find their way into homes on Christmas as Bûche de Noël.
Another prominent part of the celebration was the sacrifice of the Yule boar (sonargöltr). Scholars have attempted to connect this tradition to the god Freyr, who was said to ride upon Gullinbursti, a gold-bristled boar discussed in the second part of the Prose Edda. But it is likely that a multitude of farm animals were also sacrificed. This kind of blood sacrifice was known as blót, and while blót was not limited to Yuletide celebrations exclusively, there is some speculation that the sacrifices here were of a larger scale. The meat from the sacrifices would then be consumed as part of the feast, with the boar itself becoming the main course. The “ceremonial boar” motif can also be found in later European customs, such as the serving of the “boar’s head” at Christmas feasts in medieval England.
Yuletide celebrations often incorporated evergreen plants, such as fir, holly, ivy, and mistletoe. Some believe this particular facet could be derived more from Anglo-Saxon influence than Norse, though this seems a bit like splitting hairs to me, considering that both Anglo-Saxons and the Norse are downstream of the broader Germanic peoples. Wreaths, garlands, and even trees decorated with small, ornamental statues of their gods may also have been displayed. All of these traditions reveal a Yuletide that was as practical as it was sacred—a festival designed to stave off the cold and darkness of winter while at the same time reaffirming communal ties and offering a chance to seek divine favor. It was a festival embedded in perceptions of both the physical and metaphysical world, and the efforts of King Haakon to Christianize Yule rather than abolish it outright hints at just how central the midwinter festival was to Norse identity.
As Christianity spread throughout Northern Europe, it would inevitably encounter traditions as deeply ingrained in the culture as Yuletide. Rather than eradicating these practices entirely, some early Christian leaders, like Haakon, opted for a more strategic approach: adaptation. This process, sometimes referred to as “Christianization,” frequently involved reinterpreting or re-framing pagan festivals and customs within a Christian context. Yuletide, with its themes of light, renewal, and divine favor, was an ideal candidate for such transformation—and, obviously, proved to be one of the most significant.
Yuletide was… reshaped from an agrarian festival rooted in a polytheistic culture into a cornerstone of the Christian liturgical calendar for Northern Europeans.
While the exact date of Christ’s birth remains unknown, what we do know is that the first mention of December 25 as a commemorative date appears in the 3rd century. Hippolytus of Rome is credited with giving this date, though as scholar T. C. Schmidt points out, later Christians marked different dates in December and January, leading some to doubt the viability of December 25. Regardless, that date is the one that has stuck and, barring some truly prodigious archaeological discovery, likely will for many generations to come. How interesting that, in the Northern European context, this date also aligned with the approximate timing of Yuletide celebrations, particularly in regions where the Julian calendar was followed. This fortunate—perhaps some would say “inspired”—overlap in terms of dates allowed Christian missionaries to position Jesus as “the light of the world” (Jn. 8:12) to communities accustomed to long, cold nights and midwinter solstice rituals that anticipated the return of the sun.
By simply declaring the date of the Yuletide event to coincide with Christmas in the much later 10th century, Haakon found a way to bring Christ to the Norse people without inviting a full-scale rebellion. Archaeologist Christopher Nichols characterizes Haakon’s early conversion efforts as “gradual,” suggesting that “Hákon [sic.] appears to have been savvy enough not to try and change the world overnight, and his adjustments to jól celebrations and religious life in general probably proceeded piecemeal as his position strengthened.” Of course, this strategy would have the appearance of tolerance and assimilation to other Christians, some of whom, like the monk who later penned Historia Norwegiæ in probably the 16th century, would describe Haakon as an apostate, guilty of observing both pagan and Christian rites.
This adaptive approach had a dual effect. On the one hand, it allowed Christianity to take root more easily within Northern European societies by preserving familiar practices. On the other, it transformed Yuletide into something distinctly different, emphasizing the universal message of the Messiah’s birth over the localized worship of Pre-Christian Scandinavian gods. Yuletide was effectively reshaped from an agrarian festival rooted in a polytheistic culture into a cornerstone of the Christian liturgical calendar for Northern Europeans—one that would continue to evolve through the centuries into the Christmas we recognize today.
As we reflect on the history of Yuletide and our Christmas customs today, the question naturally arises: should Christians celebrate a holiday with such a complex and syncretic past? As Luke T. Harrington points out, it’s worth acknowledging that this really did not seem to be a major debate among Christians until the 18th century, and even then primarily among Protestants who were looking to break away from the rituals and rites of the Roman Catholic Church. Even today, some Catholics are quick to marshal a defense of Christmas celebrations, and Anglican-turned-Catholic G. K. Chesterton actually considered the fact that Christian civilization has historically dealt so charitably with certain pagan practices to be one of its strengths.
Paul’s point here is clear: what matters most is not the day itself, but the spirit in which it is observed.
But, regardless of whether one sees the Christianization of Yuletide as preservation or moral compromise, what seems to me to be frequently missing in these discussions is the basic text of Scripture itself—which, perhaps, is not as quiet on issues of cultural adaptation as one might initially think. One might also be surprised to find that the Bible actually makes room in such a debate for people on both sides of the aisle with regards to that discussion. A biblicist approach—grounded in Scripture and guided by conscience—I think provides a better and, indeed, more theological, framework for addressing the issue in such a way as to avoid both uncritical adoption and legalistic condemnation.
The apostle Paul’s instructions to the early church, particularly in his letters to the Romans and Corinthians, offer a helpful perspective. In Romans 14, Paul addresses a church divided between Jew and Gentile, largely over issues of food and the observance of special days, issues that were themselves rooted in beliefs about the Old Testament Law. He advises believers to avoid passing judgment on one another and instead to act according to their conscience, with the ultimate aim of honoring the Lord and each other. “One person judges one day above another, another judges every day alike. Each person must be fully convinced in his own mind” (Rom. 14:5, LSB). Paul’s point here is clear: what matters most is not the day itself, but the spirit in which it is observed.
Similarly, in 1 Corinthians 10, Paul speaks of eating meat sacrificed to idols—another contentious issue in the early church, again tied to issues of the Law. His advice is to prioritize love and unity within the body of Christ. While Christians have freedom in Christ to partake of such meat, Paul emphasizes that this freedom should not be exercised in a way that causes others to stumble. “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Cor. 10:31). Perhaps we can apply this principle equally to the question of Christmas: believers are free to celebrate it, but their celebration should glorify God and be sensitive to the consciences of others.
For Christians, then, the decision to celebrate Christmas—or abstain from it—must flow from the regenerate heart aligned with Christ. If observing the holiday deepens one’s gratitude for the incarnation of Jesus, strengthens the church community, and provides an opportunity for worship, then obviously this is an important expression of faith. However, if the history of Yuletide, or even the commercialization of Christmas, raises concerns for one’s conscience, then it is equally valid to abstain, provided that abstention is not imposed as a standard for others.
Paul’s admonitions also remind us to avoid falling into the trap of legalism. The church has always existed in a cultural context, and it is given to every generation of Christians to wrestle with the tension between preserving the purity of faith and engaging meaningfully with the world. As Paul advises the Corinthians, “All things are lawful, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful, but not all things build up” (1 Cor. 10:23). The key, therefore, is to discern what builds up both individual faith and the body of Christ.
Our freedom in Christ allows us to approach Christmas not with fear or guilt, but with intention-ality and, yes, joy.
Ultimately, whether Christians celebrate Christmas or not, the guiding principle should be love—love for God, love for neighbor, and love for the unity of the church. In the end, what transforms a holiday like Christmas into something sacred is not its historical origin (remember, we don’t even have a “Christmas date” until the 3rd century!), but the heart of the believer. As Paul concludes in Rom. 14:7-8, “For not one of us lives for himself, and not one dies for himself; for if we live, we live for the Lord, or if we die, we die for the Lord; therefore whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s.”
This truth is as relevant today as it was when Paul first penned it, as it was for the Norse when they encountered Christianity. For many of them, adopting the celebration of Christmas meant redirecting long standing traditions toward the worship of Christ. Feasting, evergreens, and fires once dedicated to pagan deities in hopes of a reciprocal favor instead became acts of gratitude and worship, reshaped by a new and profound understanding of reconciliation between God and man in the outworking of redemptive history. Our freedom in Christ allows us to approach Christmas not with fear or guilt, but with intentionality and, yes, joy. Whether we choose to celebrate with evergreen trees, Yule logs, and festive meals, or focus on the simple message of Christ’s birth, the goal should remain the same: to glorify God in all that we do. It is yet another opportunity to honor Him with a clear conscience and a grateful heart.
