It started like any brilliant idea starts– with a pile of sticks. & no, I’m not talking about burning someone at the stake. Although, in a way, the holiday is kinda foreshadowed by ritual sacrifice, a quasi-sin eater situation. Otherwise the birth of some random carpenter-turned-preacherman wouldn’t have been a cause for remembrance, let alone celebration.

In those days (not Biblical times, although I often feel that old) it was common to have a bunch of branches gathering dust in one’s home. Or in my home anyway. I may have an alternative relationship to home decor. It often falls under the category of ‘stuff that’s free.’ So, it started with a faggot (Old English for ‘bundle’) of sticks. But let me digress for a moment…

My interest in archaeology has led me to all manner of fascinating reads. One topic across many cultures that’s bewildering is ritual sacrifice. From prehistoric times to the present, ritual human sacrifice has been practiced on every continent except Antarctica. There’s nary a region where it wasn’t a custom at some point. Some were even large scale– in the thousands (the Shang, Aztecs). This doesn’t even count animal sacrifices, which continue to this day. The word that pops to me is ‘practiced’. Like a dry run on murder– practicing to be a better killer. Isn’t that what the military does? Is the inception of armies the brainchild of priests? Yet another reason to mistrust the religious. They seem murdery.

At its basic level, ritual sacrifice is a transaction. A ‘you don’t get something for nothing’ deal. But it’s predicated on a lie. From the dawn of time every living thing has what it needs to survive. Earth, in its infinite complexity, has provided everything for every species here. So, really, a sacrifice is a roll of the die for more. It’s a gamble for more luck, easier hunting, fairer weather, less sickness, greater strength in battle, whatever. The idea that a deity would be swayed by intentional killing in their honor makes me question the character of that god. What was the cerebral damage of these people?

My first-hand experience with ritual sacrifice happened the year my family decided to choose & cut down our Christmas tree from a farm an hour’s drive away. Grown specifically for sacrifice, I felt queasy about it all the same. Here it was one minute happily growing in the ground. Here it is felled, roped to the top of our station wagon, dripping blood (sap) from its stump. I don’t recall my age at this time, but it felt wrong. Especially done in the festive spirit, celebrating death while sipping cocoa from a paper cup.

As the decades rolled on, I’ve leaned more toward the Solstice camp. Christmas being based on that guy, Yeshua ben Yosef, whose name got mistranslated or mispronounced, & the day of his birth got jumbled to appropriate a pagan holiday’s date due to politics.

The story, as I understand it, goes: Mary, minding her own business, gets knocked up without ever having sex. Then she has to flee her home because some guy thinks her fetus will tip him off his pedestal, based merely on a dream. Next she has to endure childbirth hiding from assassins in a barn, amongst asses. Reminds me of that harrowing scene in A Quiet Place where Emily Blunt’s character has to give birth silently in a bathtub or she’ll be killed by aliens. Then a huge neon arrow of a star brings 3 gurus from the East, advertising to all ‘the child you seek is here.’ At least they didn’t come empty-handed, but not one of them brought nappies. Some baby shower that was. Can myrrh prevent diaper rash?

This would all be moot if there wasn’t a pending ritual sacrifice, which was part of God’s plan (I might add) for ‘a sacrifice to end all sacrifices.’ Spoiler alert– it totally didn’t stop the practice. A violent act to end all violence is not a sound plan. Making one’s son the fall guy seems a bit callous as well. Tends to negate the whole ‘compassionate god’ thing. I would call CPS on that father.

All this makes me think Mary was the one who sacrificed the most. She sacrificed her reputation (stoning was a distinct possibility in those days for a pregnant-without-being-wed woman), her home, her safety, & eventually her child– who was executed by the state for spreading a too-popular message of love. She got used as a tool by The Almighty, when He could’ve just made a less blood-thirsty plan. Isn’t omnipotence part of the deity package?

Enough about sacrificing trees on the altar of materialism. I come bearing the dead… in the instance my Christmas decor theme was Dia de los Muertos. Enter the sticks, of which you’ve heard tell.

So I had these huge corkscrew willow branches someone gave me. In my old place I’d hung them from the ceiling & strung them with colored lights & festive (Christmas-type) glass ornaments. It was a solution to the high, blank ceilings that I felt needed some adornment. I wasn’t the only one who thought it looked cool, just so you know. Then I moved to a smaller place & the branches had no current occupation. Yuletide approached, & I had a lightbulb appear over my head. In my life, I am a cartoon character.

I fashioned a classic, triangular pine tree shape from the branches, attaching them to the ‘trunk’ (the widest branch I had) with screws &/or nails. I hung it upside down, like some ancient European customs, & painted it all bone white. Then I made decorations using multi-colored Fimo (a PVC, polymer polyvinyl chloride) clay, which bakes in the oven until it hardens. Probably gives off all kinds of toxic fumes, but artists always suffer for their art. The decorations took the form of various bones, whole skeletons, human & animal skulls, & some sugar-type skulls sporting intricate designs. This was not going to be the typical Christmas.

My girlfriend at this time was all-in with my weird mashup of the holidays. Or she didn’t complain, at any rate. I strung the ‘tree’ with many-colored lights, hung the decorations with vibrant-hued metallic wire. It was festive & dead-themed at the same time. 2 birds, one bone.

As I look back, it strikes me as rather apt for any holiday. Getting older, there are fewer & fewer loved ones to gather round & wish good cheer. We’re increasingly aware of the shrinking numbers, & yet there’s no custom in place to still ‘bring them to the table’ so to speak. Other than Dia de los Muertos, which is just the one time of year. The dead should get more than just one, they should be present in every gathering. Their lives were a present to those of us who loved them. They’re the only meaningful gifts we get. 

“Happy Solstice to all– & to the dead a good-night!”