Humorous, hideous Christmas stories

Every December 28 in the barrios of Luzon youths roam the dirt roads, stopping at every house door. Shrouded in white blankets, they chant about being the wandering souls of the Holy Innocents whom Herod slaughtered on the first Christmas. The Pangangaluluwa (Playing Spirit) is like the American trick or treat on Halloween. Rural folk hand out delicacies suman, puto, kutsinta, or fruits chico, dalanghita, balimbing. Not giving opens them to pranks. Their potted flowers end up in the middle of the crossroad, or their chicken set loose, or laundry drenched all over again.

The Germans have the “Knocking Nights.” On the three Thursdays before Christmas, children in masks walk around town, making noise with pot covers. They knock on doors and recite poems or sing carols, also in exchange for eats. England has Mumping Day, December 21, when poor people go knocking on doors, begging the rich for food, money, and clothing.

Every land has its own funny Christmas tradition. There’s the “Burning of the Goat,” an illegal but nonetheless persistent act in the town of Gavle, Sweden. For the past four decades at the start of the Yuletide season, elders would erect a giant goat with straw. Mischief makers would come disguised as Santa Claus or elves or reindeer to get past the guards and set the Goat ablaze. Since 1966 the Goat lasted only ten times till Christmas Day.

It’s customary in Norway to hide the broom on Christmas Eve. Superstition holds that witches roam about, looking for broomsticks to ride to the next hexing victim. So Norwegian women conceal the brooms in the most difficult place to find. Some men sneak out of the house and fire a shotgun to scare away the witch.

The tomfoolery blog Who Said Life Wasn’t Funny lists amusing — and odd — traditions. Like, in Caracas, Venezuela, streets are blocked off on Christmas Day so that people can roller-skate to church. In Italy they don’t have Christmas trees; instead they adorn small wooden pyramids with fruit. A kindly witch, Befana, rides a broomstick down chimneys to deliver toys into the stockings of Italian kids.

The Toastmaster’s Treasury Chest comes up with more: In Scandinavia an elf called Julenissen brings toys to good children. In England it’s Father Christmas who does the job. In France the gift-bearer is Bonhomme Noël, accompanied by Père Fouettard (Father Whipper), who leaves a birch rod for every child who has been naughty. In Spain and some Latin American countries, Balthazar, one of the Magi, delivers the gifts on the eve of Epiphany. In Syria it is Balthazar’s Good Camel.

In Finland Santa’s sleigh is not pulled by Rudolph and other reindeer, but by a goat named Ukko. The traditional Armenia Christmas Eve meal consists of fried fish, lettuce and spinach. In Austria children leave a shoe outside their door on that night, for Santa to fill with fruit and nuts. Mistletoes were so revered by early Britons that they used special golden sickles to cut them. Modern Brits make a wish while mixing the Christmas pudding — clockwise to ensure that the wish comes true. The first Christmas card was designed in England on December 9, 1842. To solicit cash for a charity Christmas dinner in 1891, a large crab pot was set down on a San Francisco street corner, becoming the first Salvation Army collection kettle.

The province of Nova Scotia, Canada, leads the world in exporting lobster, wild blueberries — and Christmas trees. (Artificial trees have been outselling real ones worldwide since 1991). America’s official national Christmas tree is located in Kings’ Canyon National Park, California. A giant sequoia called the “General Grant Tree,” it is more than 300 feet high.

There is a town in Indiana called Santa Claus. Christmas is not widely celebrated in Scotland. In 1695 celebrating Christmas was banned in Bay Colony, Massachusetts. Puritans dominated the town council, and they could not find in the Bible any justification for the feasting and excessive celebration. So they decreed only simple observance of Christ’s birth, and fined violators five shilling for merrymaking and not reporting for work.

Terry Deary’s Dreadful Diary recounts two horrible Christmas incidents. First was on 24 December 1914, in Dover, England, when the vicar saw a light in the sky, followed by a flash and a loud bang. It wasn’t the Christmas Star, but a German airship dropping the first bomb on British soil — the vicar’s garden.

Second was on 25 December AD 390. Roman Emperor Theodosius had dispatched warriors to quell a summer uprising in Thessalonica, Greece, where his general Butheric was disemboweled. His order was to slay all the inhabitants. He then changed his mind and sent a messenger to say so. But by the time the messenger arrived, 7,000 people already had been massacred. Ambrose, the bishop of Milan where Theodosius held court, left the city and refused to celebrate Mass in the emperor’s presence until the latter repented. Which Theodosius hesitantly did, telling perhaps Thessalonica survivors, “Sorry but Merry Christmas.” He did decree that all death sentences thenceforth would have a 30-day lag before execution.

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“That is why it is not good to mouth forgiveness until the rancor is out of your feeling.” Shafts of Light, Fr. Guido Arguelles, SJ

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