Xmas, Culture, and the Quiet Confidence of Faith

One of the most beautiful things about being a revert to Islam within an interfaith family is the freedom to see clearly — to separate culture from religion, and to honour both without fear.

In the UK, Xmas has never been a deeply religious event for many families. For the past 53 years of my life, it certainly hasn’t been for mine. It has always been cultural: a time of gathering, of tradition, of shared meals, familiar rituals, and collective pause. There were no theological declarations, no sermons, no acts of worship — just family, warmth, and continuity.

Reverting to Islam did not take that away from me. If anything, it added a new layer of meaning.

Now, as a Muslim with non Muslim children, I still get to enjoy this time with them — but with an added depth that feels quietly sacred. Xmas becomes an opportunity for conversation, not conversion. In schools, children are taught that Jesus is born at this time of year, and rather than shutting that down, Islam invites me to lean into it.

Because Jesus — ʿĪsā ibn Maryam — is our Prophet too.

Through this cultural moment, I get to introduce my children to the Islamic understanding of Jesus: his miraculous birth, his deep connection to God, his compassion, his prophetic role. Islam doesn’t erase him; it honours him. And that brings a new, unexpected beauty to the season — one rooted not in dogma, but in shared reverence.

This time of year matters to us as a family not because of theology, but because of tradition. Cultural tradition. Human tradition. The simple act of coming together. And that has absolutely nothing to do with religious allegiance.

Interestingly, the loudest voices insisting that Muslims “should not celebrate Christmas” are almost always those who have only ever experienced it through a religious lens. Hardline interpretations exist in every faith — Islam included — and they often come from people who have never known Xmas as a purely cultural event. They speak from theory, not lived reality.

And no — Christmas was never a pagan festival.

I say this as someone who practised paganism for over 35 years. The winter solstice and Christmas are not the same thing. The solstice occurs days earlier and has its own meaning entirely. What did happen historically is that Christianity — like many dominant religions before and after it — absorbed, rebranded, and re-dated existing cultural moments in order to make conversion more palatable. This pattern is not unique, nor is it surprising.

And yet, this is precisely why I love Islam in its truest form.

Islam does not require coercion. It does not demand cultural erasure. It does not fear exposure to other paths. The Qur’an is explicit:

“There is no compulsion in religion.”
(Qur’an 2:256)

This verse alone reshapes how faith is meant to live in the world — especially within families. It gives me the freedom not to force Islam onto my children, not to coerce belief, not to instil fear. Instead, I can show them beauty. I can let them witness faith as something lived with integrity, not imposed with anxiety.

The Qur’an also reminds us why diversity exists at all:

“O humanity, We created you from a single male and female, and made you into nations and tribes so that you may know one another.”
(Qur’an 49:13)

Not to dominate one another.
Not to erase one another.
But to know one another.

This is the heart of Islam — the place where ego falls away, where the need to be “the only true path” dissolves, and where connection replaces control. When people drop the fear, they begin to see how deeply connected all spiritual paths really are.

So yes — Xmas is for everyone.

If your faith is strong, participating in a cultural celebration should not threaten it. If it does, then perhaps the issue isn’t the celebration, but the fragility of the belief itself. A faith rooted in truth does not tremble at a shared meal, a decorated tree, or a moment of collective joy.

For me, Xmas has become richer — not because I believe in it religiously, but because Islam has taught me not to be afraid of it.

It has given me the confidence to stand fully in my faith while remaining open-hearted, grounded, and deeply human.

And that, to me, is one of the quiet miracles of this season.