| We had low ceilings in our little suburban rambler so the tree we used for ritual slaughter was little more than a babe in the woods. A larger family gathering took place every year at our uncle's house and the high vaulted ceilings demanded a greater sacrifice. The house was massive, with a sprawling manicured lawn and a big old dead tree in the living room.
We'd gather around the decaying pine carcass and sing Christmas carols about peace on Earth and goodwill toward men. Sometimes we'd sing about the tree itself and the paradox seemed lost on everyone but me. Our family has a German heritage so we would sing the song in the original German but the lyric is still familiar to English speakers.
Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree,
How are thy leaves so verdant!
Ancient people feared deciduous trees were dying when they lost their leaves and marveled at the seeming immortality of the evergreen. In a perverse homage to the miracle of nature, or perhaps as a humble test of the organism's durability, the trees were hacked from the ground during the darkest days of winter and dragged indoors.
Ancient Romans decorated their homes with evergreen branches for the pagan festival of Saturnalia in mid-December and well-meaning Christians adopted the practice with a fury. The persecuted early Christians, not wanting to offend, went the Romans one better and chopped down the whole damned tree. There is substantial evidence that the church tried to stamp out the pagan customs but the ambiance was compelling.
Not only in the summertime,
But even in winter is thy prime.
How are thy leaves so verdant!
Martin Luther was so awed by the beauty of evergreen trees on a starry winter's night that he was inspired to hack down a fir tree and decorate it with candles in his home.
Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree,
Much pleasure doth thou bring me!
It brought Mr. Luther so much pleasure that the tradition was cemented in Christian culture in Germany and was subsequently exported to the New World by the Hessians we hired to gain our independence from Britain. When German immigrants settled en masse in Pennsylvania, the gruesome custom took root in America.
For every year the Christmas tree,
Brings to us all both joy and glee.
The smell of a freshly cut evergreen bough brings joy and glee in exactly the same manner as the destruction of the entire tree. The Romans who started the nonsense had only torn a limb or two from the stoic pine. The pagan practice was abrasive but non-lethal. You have my word on it that separating an adolescent tree from its roots brings joy and glee to everyone but the tree.
We are careful to keep the basin filled with sugar water to maintain the organism in an embalmed lifeless limbo for as long as possible. As the entity falls to complete decay we risk our own lives by wrapping nature's perfect tinder box in live electrical wires, as though daring karma to bite us back. Almost all Christmas trees are grown on farms where they're specially bred for 5 to 10 years for our callous consumption. Many of these farms have wonderful cut-your-own-tree programs where one can bring the children for a close-up view of the butchery.
The fact that the trees act as a carbon sink and save us from the greenhouse effect and ourselves is beyond debate. The relative value of an evergreen tree to the larger ecosystem increases with each year of its growth. If we must consistently think in terms of our selfish interest, its value as firewood and building material also increase with age. You may be correct to argue that the adverse ecological effect of the annual sacrifice is negligible and I would have to concede the point. The greater issues of waste and casual cruelty are indefensible.
In his sadly defeated social commentary, Leonard Cohen will tell you to "take the only tree that's left and stuff it up the hole in your culture." It is simply wrong, in a world of finite resources and expanding populations, to fell an adolescent evergreen for such a frivolous display. Our cavalier interruption of an entity with a potential life span two or three times our own is contemptible.
A child knows that it doesn't matter if you step on an ant but a sentient grown-up can sense that there are larger issues at play and will try to avoid it.
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