So... 'this' is Christmas

Ruth Sanderson takes a look at Christmas adverts and the business of this festive season.

In early November, my phone pinged.

“I can let the cat out of the bag,” said the text. “I made the Christmas pudding hat for the Sainsbury’s Christmas ad!”

Up popped the message from one of the mums on a long string of WhatsApp messages in a group for other frazzled mothers in our town.

I immediately clicked on the link she sent to see the hat in question. It was very sweet, but slightly eclipsed by Rick Astley taking a starring role in the ad itself. The fact that the hat was in the same orbit and included in the Christmas ad itself was quite wonderful. That was the start of Christmas ads for me this year. No sooner were the pumpkins cleared away and the fake cobwebs binned than Christmas had arrived.

Each year, the big supermarkets’ festive adverts herald the beginning of the season, and it feels like they are starting earlier and earlier. The heartfelt cover versions, the emotional storylines, the party ads, the glitzy ads, the celebrity ads – all vying for our attention, all hoping that we will try to emulate them in some way, that they have somehow tapped into our greatest wishes and desires. A prawn ring, a continental chocolate selection, pink fizz, heritage plum pudding… whatever floats your boat.

I was once invited to a big supermarket’s launch of its Christmas range… in July. It was during a heatwave and I trudged in from the 38 degrees of sweaty London heat, in a small summer dress, stinging from horrendous sunburn into a world of fake snow, Christmas trees, mince pies and pigs in blankets.

It was surreal to say the least. There was even a heavily perspiring Santa, his puce face almost the exact colour of his jolly red hat. A colleague and I sat uncomfortably on a sparkling Christmas sleigh eating canapes and wondering what was happening. Despite major discombobulation, it did make me realise what big business Christmas is – how it’s a year-round commodity in itself. Despite a continued cost-of-living crisis and inflation remaining high, it has been estimated that British shoppers will spend £110 billion in the final three months of this year.

The Christmas we celebrate… has more in common with rough sleeping than it does with Stilton and claret.

Christmas adverts are big business. Almost immediately after Christmas, almost unthinkable amounts of money are spent on consultants, ad companies, PR reps and creatives who get together to come up with next year’s big idea. There’s a lot riding on it – can they capture the story that sums up a zeitgeist and encourages shoppers to invest in their wares? Can they keep profit margins up and give the shareholders a bumper new year? Cynical? Perhaps a little. However, this year will see advertisers spend around £9.5 billion during the Christmas season, according to data from the Advertising Association.

A lot has been made about the controversy surrounding this year’s advert from Marks and Spencer. The slogan is ‘Choose Thismas, not Thatmas’, the premise being celebrities destroying their least favourite things about the festive season – putting Christmas cards in a shredder, kicking the elf on the shelf off the side of a building etc. For some reason, it’s ruffled quite a few feathers. In a heated diatribe, one notorious headmistress claimed that the ad “put two fingers up” to the spirit of Christmas. Her point was this: she runs an inner-city school where she tries to instil values of daily decency; this advert makes their lives as teachers much more difficult, and stifles social mobility and happiness for children, particularly the disadvantaged.

I can see both sides to this argument. On one hand, we all have things about Christmas that irk us. I, for example, am not a fan of turkey. We made the executive decision two years ago to have beef Wellington instead, and I can confirm that my Christmas dinner is a happier one because of it. Some hate sprouts, others crackers, more still hate party games or having to force a rictus smile while enduring another round of fruit cake. On a more serious note, many people do not have a joyful Christmas – they feel isolated and alone, or they are forced to spend extended time with difficult or fractured families.

Some retailers have sensed the mood music and ditched their Christmas ads altogether. Iceland and John Lewis have forgone their traditional adverts. The managing director of Iceland said it was a “no brainer”, as nearly a third plan to spend less this Christmas due to the cost-of-living crisis.

It got me thinking about our expectations of Christmas. I have a good friend who comes from a broken family and a highly disadvantaged background. He hated Christmas. His father was absent, his mother neglectful.

On 25 December, he and his younger brother would either be left alone or eventually shuffled off to relatives for the day. His memories are of trying to shield his little brother from the disappointment that their Christmas brought against the expectations that society placed upon it. In this context, I can see why that head teacher took exception to the M&S ad – glittering celebrities rejecting, like spoilt toddlers, the elements of festivity that my dear friend, clutching his little brother’s hand, could only have dreamt of.

A moment in history that altered eternity. There is nothing in the supermarket Christmas ads that comes close to that reality.

What do we expect? There is a wonderful film that came out a few years ago called Christmas in a Day. It was a documentary of sorts, taking snippets from multiple perspectives as Yuletide unfolded. It focused on the main rituals – the night before, the stockings, the present opening, the dinner, the party games, the evening. The range of experiences presented was startling. From the glamorous young family lavishing their picture-perfect children with bespoke gifts to the family arguing over dinner, settling in to a silent simmer as they ate their turkey, seething with anger at one another. The most moving scene was in the evening, amidst footage of families playing Twister or watching the latest blockbuster while eating Quality Street – it was at a homeless shelter.

Men and women shuffling in from the cold, bewildered and beleaguered, their lives worn heavy on furrowed brows and slumped shoulders, being given the basics of kindness, thankful for having shelter for a few hours at least, still, with the prospect of Boxing Day looming and all the challenges a new day would bring. How the expectations of what Christmas is, and what it owes us, can vary.

The charity Crisis estimates a 26% rise in rough sleeping across England this year.

It made me think of that first Christmas, and how removed we are from it. How we have dressed it up in baubles and tinsel, painted its face, made it dance a jig to our tune and assigned to it traditions and expectations that don’t have any place near it. The Christmas we celebrate in our church has more in common with rough sleeping than it does with Stilton and claret.

A young couple, a labour, an unbelievable back story, the panic rising as it becomes obvious that there is nowhere to stay. A stable, a miracle. Political instability, the rumblings of something awful that would turn into an infanticide of boys born at the same time as Jesus. The hardest and humblest of beginnings.

A moment in history that altered eternity.

There is nothing in the supermarket Christmas ads that comes close to that reality. The Christmas they represent is an illusion.

We, as Christians, must be able to be the ones to see through that window dressing, to see through what society tells us Christmas is. We know what it is – the moment when God became flesh, where his plan of redemption and grace began on Earth. It was a moment that would end with the greatest sacrifice.

Let’s remember what our Christmas is, then: filled with grace, and the miraculous gift we were given – a baby, a Saviour – Christ Emmanuel – who lives in our hearts.

That beats any Christmas advert hands down.