Julkalendar 2025

While the American holiday season often kicks off with the large Thanksgiving feast, for many Swedish-speaking Finns the Christmas season begins with a smaller, more intimate celebration on the Saturday evening before the First Sunday of Advent.

We are talking about Lillajul. It is exactly what it sounds like: a miniature version of Christmas Eve. It acts as a warm-up for the main event, celebrated with delightful, scaled-down versions of the main traditions. The centerpiece is the lillajulsgran—a “little Christmas tree.”

This tradition is particularly strong in the heartlands of Swedish-Finn culture, Ostrobothnia and the Åland Islands. It offers a moment of warmth in the darkening season—a gentle reminder that Christmas is near.

Elves. Those small, magical beings are a cornerstone of Christmas folklore. On the surface they seem alike, but the tomte your Swedish Finn great-grandparents believed in is a very different character from the elf sitting on a shelf in a modern home.

In Scandinavian and Finnish folklore, the farm gnome (gårdstomte) was the protector of the homestead. He was not a jolly toy-maker; he was a serious, ancient, and sometimes grumpy guardian who lived in the shadows of the barn or attic. He didn’t keep a “naughty or nice” list, but he demanded respect—and a bowl of porridge on Christmas Eve—in exchange for the farm’s prosperity.

Over the years, this solitary, grey-clad guardian transform into the cheerful helper we know and love today.

As we open the sixth door, we pause for a date of profound significance: December 6th. While the American 4th of July is known for barbecues and fireworks, Finland’s Independence Day is a celebration of a different kind—one rooted in remembrance, gratitude, and dignity following the hard-won freedom of 1917.

However, the day has its own unique spectacle. As evening falls, the nation gathers around their televisions to watch Linnan juhlat (The President’s Ball), where some 2,000 guests queue up to shake the President’s hand. The entire event is complete with commentators announcing each guest in the handshake line, while viewers at home provide their own fashion reviews. It is arguably the only time of year when war veterans, pop stars, and politicians share the same spotlight.

Welcome to the Second Sunday of Advent! The word “Advent” comes from the Latin adventus, meaning “arrival.” In the deep winter darkness of Finland and the Nordic countries, this arrival is marked, above all, by light.

The most cherished symbol is the adventsljusstake (Advent candlestick). Whether it is the traditional holder with four candles lit one by one each Sunday, or the iconic seven-armed electric candelabra seen in nearly every Finnish window, these lights define the landscape of the season.

But the light doesn’t stop at the windowsill. During the holidays, Finnish cemeteries are not dark and somber, but transformed into glowing seas of candlelight as families honor those who came before.

Today, December 8th, is the Day of Finnish Music. We celebrate the birthday of Jean Sibelius, the man whose compositions gave a voice to the Finnish soul. For the Swedish Finn Historical Society, this day is particularly special because “Janne”—as he was known to friends—was a Swedish-speaking Finn.

Writing under oppressive Russian rule, his music became an act of defiance. His masterpiece, Finlandia (click here to listen on YouTube), was so politically charged that to avoid being banned by censors, it often had to be performed under disguised names, such as “Impromptu.”

Sibelius also made his mark in the American classical scene, making a celebrated journey to Connecticut and receiving an honorary doctorate from Yale University in 1914.

In both Finland and across the Atlantic, families prepare in much the same way for Christmas: writing cards to loved ones, visiting bustling city streets, and filling homes with the comforting aroma of holiday baking.

The tradition of sending Christmas cards became a central part of the Finnish holiday spirit at the turn of the 20th century. It became a central way to maintain connections across distances, with cards featuring tomtes and winter scenes exchanging hands. Though fewer cards are sent today than in the past, tradition remains resilient; in 2023 alone, Finns still mailed around 12 million physical Christmas cards.

The anticipation was also visible in the city streets. In 1948, Helsinki’s Aleksanterinkatu (Alexander Street) shimmered with festive electric garlands for the first time, bringing much-needed joy to residents emerging from years of postwar austerity. This tradition of bringing light to the darkest time of year soon spread to cities like Vaasa and Tampere.

In North America, the soundtrack of the season is often defined by the joyous energy of Jingle Bell Rock or the commercial power of Mariah Carey. However, in Finland and the Nordic countries, the most cherished Christmas songs strike a more melancholic chord.

Two of the most beloved Swedish-Finn carols, both penned by the cultural icon Zacharias Topelius, illustrate this perfectly. Sylvias Julvisa does not celebrate a warm hearth, but tells the story of a bird caged in sunny Sicily, longing for the cold, dark winter of its northern homeland. Click here to listen.

Even more poignant is Varpunen jouluaamuna (Sparrow on Christmas Morning), which reveals a heartbreaking narrative: the small bird eating a crumb of bread is actually the spirit of the narrator’s deceased little brother. These songs capture a culture that finds beauty not just in celebration, but in deep remembrance. Click here to listen.