The message of the holly
The midwinter message in the holly
Spiky, glossy, waxy dark green, each oval leaf edge bedecked- as if by a skyline packed with pointy church steeples- with needle-sharp prickles. Around its stem a cluster of three crimson red pea-sized berries hang on for dear life on tiny woody stems- still glistening with a film of morning moisture.
I pick a leaf carefully and hold it in my hand, twelve upturned enquiring pilgrim faces wait expectantly.
I imagine many of us will recognise this tree, I say. Smiling, everyone nods. Holly confidently offers a smilingly enthusiastic woman in a lightly-padded navy down jacket.
Indeed it is, I reply. And go on to explain how the ubiquitous holly has associations with pilgrimage. This is one of the reasons they are here after all. A little nature, some folklore, throw in a bit of history during a long walk to a spiritual place with a set intention. Mind, body, spirit right there. The heart of a modern pilgrimage journey.
Come with me to 597 CE, I encourage the assembled pilgrims. Yes, I used to say AD, but in this multi-faith, post-modern culture I have got with the lingo. Benedictine Abbot Gregory has had his mission from God to evangelise the Angles a tad disrupted by some serious career progression. He has just been modestly named Pope Gregory the Great.
He is no longer available for the call of the Almighty, but monastery right hand man Augustine- later sainted for his troubles- is sent instead.
His orders? Take forty fellow monks through Gaul, then sail across the channel to convert those pagans… and fast.
Holy Roman Frankish princess Queen Bertha has- to date- failed in her own mission to flirt-to-convert her pagan husband Saxon King Ethelbert of Kent, and clearly needs a Godly hand. Once you have Ethelbert and his court on side, go steady Augustine. Evolution not revolution. Stealthily overlay those beginner Brits’ Pagan places, practises and parties with Christian ones…
Evergreens were used in places of worship in pre-Christian times (pine, cedar, fir and box), notes John Claudius Loudon in his Trees and Shrubs of Great Britain. Holly with its evergreen leaves was placed at the entrance of a house because the prickles were thought to stop ‘evil forces’ entering. In the mid-Winter Roman festival of Saturnalia, branches of Holly were used to symbolise good wishes.
And it wasn’t just those pagan Romans- Druids and Celts brought evergreens into their homes during winter, believing the plant’s ability to keep its leaves was magical and assured the return of spring. Ivy was the feminine, holly was the masculine whose protective qualities to ward off evil spirits were linked to the Holly King in Celtic mythology, who ruled during the winter months.
The winter solstice was a huge part of pagan life. As these were primarily agricultural people, winter marked the end of the year’s harvest and the chance to enjoy the company of loved ones and rest from toiling the fields. Pagans could stop farming through the winter and instead devote themselves to worshipping their various gods and celebrating with those around them.
Winter solstice celebrations, such as Roman Saturnalia and the Germanic Yule festival, symbolized hope and rebirth. They incorporated customs like feasting, gift-giving, and various rituals that embraced the return of longer days. As winter in the northern hemisphere tends to be dark, cold and hungry, the winter solstice was celebrated to help keep people entertained and uplifted until the sun rolled around again
As Constantine embraced Christianity as the religion of Rome in the 4th and 5th centuries, 25th December was gradually adopted as the date for Christmas in Europe, superimposed over the existing mid-winter festivals which had traditionally been a week of public feasting, dancing, singing and gambling. Houses were decorated with evergreens and wreaths of holly were given as tokens of friendship. When this festival was absorbed into the Christian calendar, holly and the other evergreens were absorbed as well.
So, holly gets the Pope Gregory treatment. It’s evergreen nature and vibrant red berries became associated with Christ's passion and resurrection. The leaves were seen as a symbol of the crown of thorns, the berries representing Christ's blood.
My pilgrims nod. All of them have at one time or other sung the well-known Christmas carol, "The Holly and the Ivy," reflecting this blending of pagan and Christian symbolism.
I know there is more than one type of holly, because I have often sought out the less long-lasting variegated variety for its ability to bring contrast into my Christmas door wreaths and Advent crowns. What I had no idea of until informed by The National Trust website, however, is that there are over two hundred cultivated varieties of native holly introduced by 19th century plant collectors and hybridised by those industrious Victorians. Though the Latin name, Ilex aquifolium, means with pointed leaves, not all of them are prickly.
And if we have now covered the spiritual associations of holly, what of the practical? I ask the group.
Well, from the 13th to the early 18th century along the Pennine chain from the Lake District and North York moors down to Derbyshire where I now live and the North Midlands, holly was a valuable winter fodder crop to be browsed by cattle, horses, sheep and goats- and in some places, deer.
The evergreen leaves of Holly have a high calorific value, so could be used as a supplement or replacement for hay when food was in short supply, or the land covered with snow so animals could not graze. It also offered shelter to animals. Woods or groves of holly trees known as hollins or haggs were not uncommon.
Farmers would lop some of the upper branches from the trees, a form of pollarding which did not harm the tree.
I can see the question forming in my pilgrims’ eyes- but what of the holly prickles or spines? Surely these would deter even the hungriest animal?
And here’s the amazing thing. The leaf I had just pulled off at hip height is typically wavy with those large spiny ‘spires’, but as the tree grows (and holly can reach up to 80 feet), the leaves become less spiny. Some have no spines at all. I urge every pilgrim to lift their eyes and look high up the tree, to see the proof for themselves.
W Bean - a former Curator of the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew- explains in Trees and Shrubs Hardy in the British Isles: “The tops of good-sized trees will be found almost wholly furnished with quite entire leaves”. He goes on to postulate that “The spines are a means of protection against grazing animals and are no longer needed when the trees become tall.” Hence, the practice of cutting branches from the holly some distance up the stem, where the leaves bore few, if any, prickles.
And here, right here, is my first thought of the day. I urge each pilgrim to pick a low-lying leaf and examine it carefully
Holly throws out those stabbing, uncomfortable spines to protects itself from the constant biting of animals who are themselves trying to survive through the toughest times.
How many people have we called ‘prickly?’ I ask aloud. Or maybe we are that prickly person around others. Defensive, sharp, quick with words which may injure intentionally or not? Silence reigns as the group reflect.
And who or what is ‘biting’ us?
And if we knew that the prickly person who has just injured us, has themselves been bitten earlier that day or lifetime, could we now respond rather than react? Approach them differently, in a spirit of compassionate curiosity? A ‘What happened to you?’ rather than a ‘Why did you do that?’
Because when those higher leaves are left to grow to the light then cropped carefully, they hurt no one and provide for everyone.
