When Christmas is a little too bright … look to Krampus

When Edgar Loesch was growing up, his Christmas was filled with family, friends and St. Nicholas. But his German parents also had one, terrifying addition: a hairy monster named Krampus who they said would carry him off if he didn’t behave.

With goat horns, gnashing teeth and a long tongue to taste one’s sins, Krampus is nothing short of horrifying.

To drive home the threat, Loesch’s parents would sneak outside the window and rattle chains.

“You go to bed, and then suddenly at some point you hear like somebody shuffling outside a bedroom door, scratching on the door,” remembers Loesch.

Despite this early terror, Loesch, like many, has come to embrace Krampus. He’s the owner of Fressen Artisan Bakery in Portland, Ore., and on Saturday it was filled with families eating pfeffernüsse (German spice cookies) and stollen (a marzipan-filled yeasted Christmas cake), and lining up to get their pictures taken.

Entire families, with kids and dogs, took their holiday portraits — not with a jocular Santa, but with a snarling Krampus, standing in front of an Alpine forest backdrop. Some pose in mock horror, while others give the beast a high five. And of course, the occasional child bursts into tears.

But it turns out Christmas and monsters have gone hand in hand for a long time.

Sarah Clegg is a folklorist, and author of The Dead of Winter: Beware the Krampus and Other Wicked Christmas Creatures.

In medieval Europe, the end of the year was a chaotic, spooky season — it even included something like an early version of trick-or-treating. Clegg says costumed processionals went through towns, inspired by the pre-Christian Saturnalia celebrations.

“They are putting on antlers, going door to door, demanding treats. I mean, they’re demanding money and alcohol,” laughs Clegg.

In the 1500s, the figure of the child-eater emerged — with lank greasy hair and torn clothes, cramming children into his mouth. Over the centuries, Clegg says this monster slid back in the calendar, to the feast of St. Nicholas in early December. These monsters weren’t just eating children for fun, but became St. Nick’s dark, vile helpers; the stick to Santa’s carrot.

Clegg says by the late 1800s, Krampus became the most notable, recognized version of these monsters. And she says it’s because he came with the best merch: chocolates, pepper grinders and most importantly, Krampus postcards, which are made in places like Salzburg, Austria and can be cheaply and easily sent around the world.

Some of these postcards are scary, some silly and some … are something else

“There’s sexy Krampus cards. There’s adult lady Krampus with a very big whip … and sort of debonair, handsome topless Krampus,” laughs Clegg.

Recently, Krampus has made his way back into popular culture, even in the U.S. There are Krampus children’s books, a horror film and Krampus events from San Antonio, Texas to Des Moines, Iowa.

And last weekend, about 150 Krampuses and fans gathered in Portland, Ore., for the fifteenth annual Krampuslauf parade — the night before the Krampus photo shoot at Fressen bakery.

At first glance, it looks like a merry bunch of carolers. But look a little closer, and there are horns, antlers, bloody doll parts and lots of homemade birch switches, though no kids were actually harmed. In fact, some Krampuses actually handed out candy from their sacks, instead of stuffing naughty kids into them.

Arun Joseph Ragan started the parade. He said that he never felt much connection with all the merry and bright of the Christmas season, and preferred to lean into the darkness of winter. For him, Krampus provides a valuable lesson: “To make peace with winter, and with the spirit of winter, by inviting it to your party — so it does not sneak up behind you because you have failed to acknowledge it.”

And as the sun sets at 4:30, for some, it feels right to embrace the darkness — and to become it. And have a little fun with it. And maybe scare a few children along the way.