By Abdikarim H Abdi Buh

A brief, slightly irreverent history of the world’s most politely stolen festival

Every December 25, the world confidently announces that it is celebrating the birthday of Jesus Christ. There are lights, trees, feasts, gifts, and a man in a red suit who lives at the North Pole and somehow knows your moral record better than your mother.

There is just one small problem.

No one — not the Bible, not the early Church, not even the angels — ever gave us a date for Jesus’ birth. Christmas, as it turns out, is less a divine appointment and more a brilliantly executed scheduling decision.

Step One: Pick a Date Everyone Already Loves

Long before Christianity arrived with incense and hymns, humans were already throwing winter parties. December is dark, cold, depressing, and historically lethal. Naturally, people responded by drinking, lighting fires, eating too much, and pretending the sun wasn’t dying.

The Romans called this Saturnalia, a week-long festival dedicated to Saturn, the god of agriculture — because nothing says “farming” like December. Saturnalia featured:

• Massive feasts
• Gift-giving
• Public drunkenness
• Masters serving slaves (just for fun)
• Social rules being politely set on fire

Meanwhile, on December 25 itself, Romans celebrated the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun (Sol Invictus). The logic was simple: the days were getting longer again, the sun was back, and everyone agreed this deserved a party.

So when Christianity became legal in the fourth century, Church leaders looked at the calendar, looked at these festivals, and thought:

“We could fight this… or we could rename it.”

Step Two: Rebrand the Sun

Enter Jesus Christ, now officially born on December 25.

Was this based on historical evidence? Absolutely not. But it was excellent marketing. If pagans were already celebrating the return of light, Christianity could simply say, “Correct — that light is Jesus.”

Theologians called Christ the “Light of the World.” Coincidence? Please. This was a spiritual hostile takeover.

The sun god got demoted. The party stayed.

Step Three: Absorb Everything That Moves

As Christianity spread north into Europe, it encountered people who celebrated Yule — a cheerful festival involving:

• Evergreen trees (because they don’t die, which felt reassuring)
• Big logs burned for days
• Drinking enough ale to forget winter exists
• Honoring ancestors and surviving the cold

Instead of saying, “Stop that immediately,” the Church said, “Lovely traditions. We’ll take all of them.”

The evergreen tree became a Christian symbol. The Yule log became festive décor. Feasting became holy. Drinking became… quietly tolerated.

By medieval times, Christmas was less a solemn religious event and more a legally sanctioned excuse to misbehave — complete with feasts, plays, music, and social rules temporarily loosened. In other words: Saturnalia, but baptized.

Step Four: Make It Respectable (Victorian Patch Update)

Not everyone was amused. Protestants eventually noticed that Christmas looked suspiciously pagan and not very biblical. Puritans hated it so much they banned Christmas entirely in 17th-century England and colonial America.

Yes, Christmas was once illegal.

But holidays, like cockroaches, are hard to kill. By the 19th century, Christmas returned — this time cleaned up, sentimentalized, and wrapped in lace.

Charles Dickens played a major role in this reboot. His message was simple:

• Be kind
• Love your family
• Help the poor
• Stop being terrible

Suddenly, Christmas became about cozy homes, moral reflection, and children — plus gifts, because let’s be realistic.

Step Five: Add Capitalism and a Red Suit

Fast-forward to the 20th century. Christmas went global, picked up Santa Claus (a heavily modified Saint Nicholas), borrowed a red suit from Coca-Cola advertising, and became the only religious festival where:

• Shopping is mandatory
• Debt is encouraged
• And stress is considered traditional

At this point, Christmas was no longer just Christian. It was cultural. In some countries, people celebrate it without believing in God, Jesus, or even winter.

It became the festival of hope, nostalgia, food, and mild financial regret.

So What Is Christmas, Really?

Is Christmas the birth of Christ? The return of the sun? A pagan solstice party in Christian clothing? A Victorian morality play? A corporate shopping season?

The answer is yes.

Christmas is a 2,000-year-old remix — a holiday that survived because it understood something profound about humans: when the world is cold and dark, people need light, warmth, laughter, and an excuse to gather.

And if that excuse involves stealing someone else’s festival and giving it better PR, history suggests humanity is perfectly fine with that.

After all, if you’re going to conquer the world, you might as well do it with candles, cake, and gifts.

Abdikarim Haji Abdi Buh
Email: abdikarimbuh@yahoo.com