I found a nice second hand book on Christmas Traditions from 1931 at the Guide Dogs for the Blind biggest book sale, and as Christmas approaches, thought it might be interesting to share it with my readers. Although it dates from 193, the author was well-informed and a good deal of his history, which is judicious on matters of ignorance, stands up well with modern scholarship.
The Coming of Christmas – Part 2
by William Muir Auld
In so far as devotional interest ranged back over the earthly life of Jesus, during the first two hundred years, it tended to stop short at His Baptism, as if the prescriptive Gospel were St. Mark, which begins the story of the Son of God at this point. The occurrence by the Jordan, with its wonderful accompaniments, was considered of supreme importance in the career of the Messiah and around it a feast grew up called Epiphany, the manifestation of Christ's glory, on January 6.
The origins of this festival are exceedingly obscure. It is first heard of in connection with certain Basilidian heretics in the second century; but by the fourth century it has found a place in the larger Church, "in the East, in Gaul and probably also in northern Italy." Owing to the extreme vagueness of the term Epiphany it is impossible to tell what its first significance may have been, or even all that entered into it at any time.
Some writers call attention to a mystery-religion celebration of the birth of the on from the Virgin Kore, which took place on the eve of January 5-6, and suggest that Epiphany may have been created by certain Gnostics as a kind of rival festival. But this, while alluring to the historical imagination, means little more than chasing the subject into an underworld of uncertainty with nothing better than analogical speculation to guide the footsteps.
That Epiphany stood related in some way to the Baptism of Jesus admits of no doubt. But why, it is natural to ask, should this particular experience have been singled out for preeminent recognition?
There is a reasonable answer to this question. In the early Church the belief was not uncommon that Christ was not born divine, but attained to that dignity and power when He was thirty years old, by virtue of the descent upon Him of the Holy Spirit at Baptism. To those who held these views Epiphany would be the annual commemoration of the deification, or the apotheosis, of Christ, when the voice from heaven said, "Thou art my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased," or as some old readings phrased it, "This day have I begotten Thee": in other words, the festival of His spiritual birthday.
But in the Churches of Constantinople, Alexandria and Antioch, both Arian and Orthodox, at the beginning of the fourth century, it was quite definitely a joint commemoration of the Baptism of the Saviour and of His Birth in the flesh. In the Jerusalem Church it appears to have had mainly a Bethlehem significance. As far, then, as the East is concerned the Holy Nativity, or Christmas as we would now say, was first widely observed on January 6 in the festival called Epiphany, and, of course, in a manner distinctly spiritual and religious.
It would be interesting to know how matters fared in these respects with the Christians in Rome; but the whole situation is extremely cloudy. Some think that there December 25 was always the recognized date of the Saviour’s Birth, while others again do not.
Kirsopp Lake, who surveys the whole field with impartial critical skill, will only say: "It is certain that in the East January 6 was the feast of the Nativity, as well as that of the Baptism, and it is probable, though not quite so certain, that the same is true of the West."' The evidence is of that elusive sort which hardly permits of historians being positive either one way or the other.
At all events, some- where in the middle of the fourth century, a day, which may or may not be entirely new, destined to be famous thereafter as Christmas, namely December 25, was formally set aside by the Church in Rome for the observance of the physical Birth of Christ.
The festival may have been in existence as early as 336; "but farther back than that it cannot be traced."
Since by no stretch of imagination can the choice of the day be ascribed to a reliable tradition, why the Church fastened upon it raises an interesting subject; and many points of view are possible. Some have professed to see a well conceived ecclesiastical plan to supplant sooner or later January 1 by the Birthday of Christ as the beginning of the civil year.
This may be so; certainly the Church long fostered this ambition; though its efforts were never crowned with complete and permanent success. Doctrinal matters undoubtedly played their part. As theological thought attained greater clarity and definiteness the notion that Jesus became divine at His Baptism was regarded as heretical.
Other vagrant fancies required to be combated. By certain sects it was maintained that Jesus, as He appeared among men, was a mere phantasm and had never been born at all. The new festival served to counteract these irregularities of belief, first by emphasizing the Saviour’s actual Birth in the flesh; and second by asserting that His divinity, as well as His humanity, potentially at least, were as real in the manger as at any later period of His life and ministry.
Under the Empire, however, heathendom everywhere tended more and more to focus its devotion on the source of all light and life. Nor were the Emperors, particularly in the third century, slow to capitalize this tendency of thought in the interests of their ideas of absolutism in the state. "The great temple of the Sun," writes Samuel Dill, "which Aurelian, the son of a priestess of the deity, founded on the Campus Martius, with its high pontiffs and stately ritual, did honour not only to the great lord of the heavenly spheres, but to the monarch who was the august image of his power upon earth and who was endued with his special grace."
Under this Emperor (270-275), December 25, when the world annually hovering on the brink of darkness and desolation was saved by the resurgent sun, acquired a new significance. It was called Dies Natalis Invicti Solis, the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun. Aurelian had faithful successors in Diocletian, in Constantine the Great before his conversion to the religion of the Cross, and also in Julian, that ill-starred champion of solar paganism.
In themselves, however, the cult of the Sun and the worship of the Emperor were not supremely well suited to the needs of the common religious instinct. But what they lacked was amply supplied by Mithraism in its mystical doctrines, its meaningful rites, its ties of brotherhood and its promise of immortality. This strange Eastern faith, whose god Mithra was identified with the Unconquered Sun, long proved the most formidable rival of Christianity. Considering its rapid spread throughout the length and breadth of the Empire, and its strong appeal to the minds of intelligent men, the opinion has been hazarded that, "if the Christian Church had been stricken with some mortal weakness, Mithraism might have become the religion of the western world."
But Christ was destined to conquer Mithra; and the victory was to be complete, even to the appropriation of his birthday. Vicisti Galilee-thou hast conquered, O Galilean!
The Coming of Christmas – Part 2
by William Muir Auld
In so far as devotional interest ranged back over the earthly life of Jesus, during the first two hundred years, it tended to stop short at His Baptism, as if the prescriptive Gospel were St. Mark, which begins the story of the Son of God at this point. The occurrence by the Jordan, with its wonderful accompaniments, was considered of supreme importance in the career of the Messiah and around it a feast grew up called Epiphany, the manifestation of Christ's glory, on January 6.
The origins of this festival are exceedingly obscure. It is first heard of in connection with certain Basilidian heretics in the second century; but by the fourth century it has found a place in the larger Church, "in the East, in Gaul and probably also in northern Italy." Owing to the extreme vagueness of the term Epiphany it is impossible to tell what its first significance may have been, or even all that entered into it at any time.
Some writers call attention to a mystery-religion celebration of the birth of the on from the Virgin Kore, which took place on the eve of January 5-6, and suggest that Epiphany may have been created by certain Gnostics as a kind of rival festival. But this, while alluring to the historical imagination, means little more than chasing the subject into an underworld of uncertainty with nothing better than analogical speculation to guide the footsteps.
That Epiphany stood related in some way to the Baptism of Jesus admits of no doubt. But why, it is natural to ask, should this particular experience have been singled out for preeminent recognition?
There is a reasonable answer to this question. In the early Church the belief was not uncommon that Christ was not born divine, but attained to that dignity and power when He was thirty years old, by virtue of the descent upon Him of the Holy Spirit at Baptism. To those who held these views Epiphany would be the annual commemoration of the deification, or the apotheosis, of Christ, when the voice from heaven said, "Thou art my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased," or as some old readings phrased it, "This day have I begotten Thee": in other words, the festival of His spiritual birthday.
But in the Churches of Constantinople, Alexandria and Antioch, both Arian and Orthodox, at the beginning of the fourth century, it was quite definitely a joint commemoration of the Baptism of the Saviour and of His Birth in the flesh. In the Jerusalem Church it appears to have had mainly a Bethlehem significance. As far, then, as the East is concerned the Holy Nativity, or Christmas as we would now say, was first widely observed on January 6 in the festival called Epiphany, and, of course, in a manner distinctly spiritual and religious.
It would be interesting to know how matters fared in these respects with the Christians in Rome; but the whole situation is extremely cloudy. Some think that there December 25 was always the recognized date of the Saviour’s Birth, while others again do not.
Kirsopp Lake, who surveys the whole field with impartial critical skill, will only say: "It is certain that in the East January 6 was the feast of the Nativity, as well as that of the Baptism, and it is probable, though not quite so certain, that the same is true of the West."' The evidence is of that elusive sort which hardly permits of historians being positive either one way or the other.
At all events, some- where in the middle of the fourth century, a day, which may or may not be entirely new, destined to be famous thereafter as Christmas, namely December 25, was formally set aside by the Church in Rome for the observance of the physical Birth of Christ.
The festival may have been in existence as early as 336; "but farther back than that it cannot be traced."
Since by no stretch of imagination can the choice of the day be ascribed to a reliable tradition, why the Church fastened upon it raises an interesting subject; and many points of view are possible. Some have professed to see a well conceived ecclesiastical plan to supplant sooner or later January 1 by the Birthday of Christ as the beginning of the civil year.
This may be so; certainly the Church long fostered this ambition; though its efforts were never crowned with complete and permanent success. Doctrinal matters undoubtedly played their part. As theological thought attained greater clarity and definiteness the notion that Jesus became divine at His Baptism was regarded as heretical.
Other vagrant fancies required to be combated. By certain sects it was maintained that Jesus, as He appeared among men, was a mere phantasm and had never been born at all. The new festival served to counteract these irregularities of belief, first by emphasizing the Saviour’s actual Birth in the flesh; and second by asserting that His divinity, as well as His humanity, potentially at least, were as real in the manger as at any later period of His life and ministry.
It is pleasant to think that the children were not without a share in the creation of Christmas. The practice of infant baptism had now become almost universal. This somewhat belated recognition of their place in the life and privileges of the Church found its appropriate counterpart in the festal celebration of their Lord.
But there were other reasons, doubtless, which led churchmen to set covetous eyes upon the day. The selection may be seen as a phase of the stern struggle of the Church with the enveloping paganism. According to the Roman calendar, inaugurated by Julius Caesar in 707 A.U.C., or 45 B.C., December 25 marked the winter solstice when the mighty parent of fertility, having reached its lowest point in the heavens, began again to rise over the world with renewed power and splendour. Among Romans this was known as the Brumalia, but what festive significance attached to it at first is not clear.
But there were other reasons, doubtless, which led churchmen to set covetous eyes upon the day. The selection may be seen as a phase of the stern struggle of the Church with the enveloping paganism. According to the Roman calendar, inaugurated by Julius Caesar in 707 A.U.C., or 45 B.C., December 25 marked the winter solstice when the mighty parent of fertility, having reached its lowest point in the heavens, began again to rise over the world with renewed power and splendour. Among Romans this was known as the Brumalia, but what festive significance attached to it at first is not clear.
Under the Empire, however, heathendom everywhere tended more and more to focus its devotion on the source of all light and life. Nor were the Emperors, particularly in the third century, slow to capitalize this tendency of thought in the interests of their ideas of absolutism in the state. "The great temple of the Sun," writes Samuel Dill, "which Aurelian, the son of a priestess of the deity, founded on the Campus Martius, with its high pontiffs and stately ritual, did honour not only to the great lord of the heavenly spheres, but to the monarch who was the august image of his power upon earth and who was endued with his special grace."
Under this Emperor (270-275), December 25, when the world annually hovering on the brink of darkness and desolation was saved by the resurgent sun, acquired a new significance. It was called Dies Natalis Invicti Solis, the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun. Aurelian had faithful successors in Diocletian, in Constantine the Great before his conversion to the religion of the Cross, and also in Julian, that ill-starred champion of solar paganism.
In themselves, however, the cult of the Sun and the worship of the Emperor were not supremely well suited to the needs of the common religious instinct. But what they lacked was amply supplied by Mithraism in its mystical doctrines, its meaningful rites, its ties of brotherhood and its promise of immortality. This strange Eastern faith, whose god Mithra was identified with the Unconquered Sun, long proved the most formidable rival of Christianity. Considering its rapid spread throughout the length and breadth of the Empire, and its strong appeal to the minds of intelligent men, the opinion has been hazarded that, "if the Christian Church had been stricken with some mortal weakness, Mithraism might have become the religion of the western world."
But Christ was destined to conquer Mithra; and the victory was to be complete, even to the appropriation of his birthday. Vicisti Galilee-thou hast conquered, O Galilean!
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