Frosty the Snowman Melted for Our Sins (An Original Essay)

Ostensibly lacking reference to Santa or Jesus, why is "Frosty the Snowman" a Christmas song?

At friends' urgings, I'm writing up my Frosty-the-Snowman theory. This is a notion that came into being two years back, and despite repeated searches, I've found no speculation outside of my own analysis regarding the thesis. So, this is my original "scholarship," and you're welcome to critique it at your leisure. -David Goehring

Characterizing Christmas Carols

The secular celebrant, such as myself, can appreciate the musical quality and sentiment of many a Christmas ditty. Who doesn't appreciate the catchily rhythmic “Little Drummer Boy” with all its innocent brooding over personal insufficiency? The majority of carol lyrics must often be passed over or politely ignored, not unlike the dish your culinarily challenged Aunt brings to Christmas dinner. Nonbelievers therefore disregard that our Little Drummer faces his financial/existential crisis on account of a “newborn King,” and focus instead on the charming novelty of an ox and a lamb leading an impromptu drum-circle.

Respite is found in the secular carols, which deal with “Christmas,” Santa, and snow, thereby circumventing the whole “reason for the season.” That “holy infant” may be “tender” and “mild” but also brings millennia of theological baggage alongside his reputed virgin-vesseled arrival. Atheists and their ilk can blamelessly embarrass themselves by singing an off-key rendition of “Carol of the Bells,” worrying only that their skeptical leanings are incompatible with the song's implicit plea to “throw cares away.”

These Jesus-skirting songs can be broadly divided into two categories: those that merely mention the word “Christmas” (and synonyms) and those that deal with Santa. In the former category we have “Jingle Bells,” “White Christmas,” and “Deck the Halls.” In the latter, “Who's That Up of the Roof?,” “Ruldolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” and the perennially disconcerting “Santa Baby.” In The Atheist's Guide to Christmas, Anna Pickard humorously describes this vein of songs as “worrying numbers...about an old man breaking to the house and having his way with your mother, along with the confusing warning that if you don't behave yourself, he might not do it again next year.” Quaint and saccharine though these Christ-less songs may be, they are free of the baggage of religious doctrine – so long as you don't consider the canonization of Rudolph to be a perverse contemporary form of religion. (As an aside, my favorite mockery-worthy secular Christmas carol is “Snow” from the film White Christmas which diligently eschews religious references only to stumble over such tragically memorable lyrics as “I want to wash my hands, my face, my hair with snow.”)

A third category of song barely merits mention, being so sparse and modest that most people barely realize the subgenre exists. These are those songs which are not religious and don't mention Santa or Christmas. These are the “Winter” songs, and unsurprisingly – except to Californian children – these tend to deal with snow. I'm sure there's some comprehensive list of these somewhere online, but these seasonal serenades are so few that only one comes readily to mind. “Let It Snow,” written in 1945 by a Jewish composer and a Jewish lyricist, deals with love and the weather. (The song lays it on pretty thick – and by “it” I mean both the cloying romanticism and the conspiratorially abiding precipitation.)

But What About Our Frosty?

In my years of forced research on salesfloors and in transit plazas (e.g., 2007, NYC's Penn Station blasting the decidedly pious “O Come, All Ye Faithful” through my taxpayer-funded speakers, sending me into paroxysms of indignation), one song remains exceptional: “Frosty the Snowman.” Written in 1950, the song is as much a go-to standard as any paean to Santa. And ask anyone: “Frosty the Snowman” is a Christmas song – not a mere winter-praising song. But on close inspection, the snowman song is free of anything verging on the Yuletide and its multifarious symbols.

Why is "Frosty the Snowman" a Christmas song? Is it secular or religious?

Now, I'm no Robert Langdon, but I do know a well-known cultural touchstone is perfect fodder for over-analysis and conspiracy-theorizing. The origins of the story (such as it is) are inscrutable – in fact, I've found no reference to fact or speculation on Frosty's genesis in academic databases or in numerous Google searches.

Looking to the primary source, the lyrics themselves, there are conspicuously puzzling elements. Of course, lots of children's stories have things that come to life and help children or play with them. But why is there the appearance of a "traffic cop"? Santa's sleigh doesn't need traffic enforcement, and I don't remember there being a public-safety officer of any kind at the Nativity. But if truly devoid of yule, why does “Frosty” feature so prominently in the Christmas canon?

Here begins the analysis. I will avoid citing individual quotes from the Bible because that level of detail would prolong the composition of this essay by another two years. But I will rigorously (if ironically) defend my assertion that “Frosty” is only superficially secular. Hang on to your bells-on-bobtails!

The Greatest Story Ever Sung? (The Lyrical Analysis)

Frosty's features

Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul,
With a corncob pipe and a button nose
And two eyes made out of coal.

Frosty is a likeable character, a “a jolly, happy soul.” It is important to note that Jesus might not merit that luminous a description. (His outburst in the temple is a well-known example of his angry streak, but his less-cited cursing of a fig tree that didn't bear him fruit is perhaps more disturbingly revealing of his temper.) But, scriptural bugbears aside, if you were creating a character to play the role of Jesus in an allegory, you'd want to immediately establish his good nature – and that's taken care of right out of the gate in “Frosty.”

The children

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale, they say,
He was made of snow but the children
Know how he came to life one day.

Second only to Frosty, the “children” (notably never “kids” or “youth” or “youngsters”) feature prominently in the song. Christians are fond of referring to themselves as “God's children” and, with a frequency I find unsettlingly apt, refer to themselves as sheep. Without delving into the theological significance of such assignations, we can note the shared innocence and simple joyfulness of the children in the song and the their tendency to follow, sheep-like, Frosty's lead and instructions. Also, children in new-age and certain Christian philosophies (think C. S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, particularly the insufferable volume Prince Caspian) have special access to the truth that adults lack. So when the song nonchalantly begins to dismiss itself as “a fairly tale,” it quickly restores its authority by asserting that “the children know” what happened. Rudolph doesn't need a gang of children to establish his preeminance, so the presence of the children is not to be dismissed as somehow essential to a children's song. Rather, it is an allusion to the followers of Christ who, according to themselves, know the real story.

Frosty's specialness

Well, yes, he's a talking snowman, and that's pretty special, but the song queerly belabors the point of Frosty's uniqueness:

O, Frosty the snowman
Was alive as he could be,
And the children say he could laugh
And play just the same as you and me.

Frosty was not categorically alive but was as “alive as he could be.” The Son of God manifest in the flesh would be as “alive as he could be” too – while still maintaining the status of deity (or filial deity).

Also suggested by its absence is what Frosty cannot do. Frosty can emulate all the best qualities of humanity – he can “laugh and play” just like any run-of-the-mill mortal. What is omitted? The song does not say Frosty can murder like you or me or fornicate just the same as me. Put simply, Frosty cannot sin. Frosty is “alive” and does not sin, therefore he is aptly prepared to die for our sins.

The Passion of The Snowman

Frosty the snowman knew
The sun was hot that day,
So he said, "Let's run
And we'll have some fun
Now before I melt away."

Equally compelling is Frosty's slow descent into liquid form. A full half of the song is devoted to the dissolution of Frosty.

Firstly, just like at the Last Supper where Jesus predicts his own capture and death, Frosty recognizes the heat of the sun and advocates – not a meal with wine, for snowmen don't eat and children don't drink wine – but the closest equivalent consistent with the song's setting: running and playing. Knowing this is the day of his demise, Frosty, like Christ, expresses a sense of urgency and wishes to celebrate his own memory before his inevitable parting.

The broomstick

Down to the village,
With a broomstick in his hand...

Are you kidding me? They didn't obscure this reference well enough; you'd have to be a daft elf to miss the allusion in these lyrics. Could this be anything but the Stations of the Cross?

The traffic cop

He led them down the streets of town
Right to the traffic cop.
And he only paused a moment when
He heard him holler "Stop!"

For those familiar with the New Testament, two figures feature prominently in the persecution of Christ: Pontius Pilate and King Herod. The former is the figure of Roman law and order in the region at the time. Pilate is the ultimate arbiter of the fate of Jesus of Nazareth condemning the alleged “king” to death by crucifixion. Without belaboring the lyrics it should be apparent the placement of the cop exactingly parallels Pilate's presence in the Passion. (For those intimately familiar with the Pilate-Jesus interviews there are numerous possible points that Jesus could be interpreted to “have only paused a moment” in his conviction about his role in the story.)

The Second Coming

For Frosty the snowman
Had to hurry on his way,
But he waved goodbye saying,
"Don't you cry,
I'll be back again some day."

Frosty, not unlike Jesus, was “hurr[ied] on his way” by external factors, bring the narrative to a timely end. (Frosty by the Sun and Jesus by being the Son.) But as with any good recognizable commodity (be it a pop song or the bestselling book in history), the authors leave a tantalizing opening for an authorized sequel. We're inured to this eventuality when we think about Jesus (viz those Left Behind books). But why on God's green earth should a snowman be expected to return? Unless, that is, the snowman's demise is an allegory for the demise of our “Savior.”

The Gospels, as far as I understand, don't actually include Jesus himself promising to return. It is elsewhere that's Christ's return is predicted and assured (variously bringing with him the eerily psychedelic Apocalypse).

Also problematic is the fact that Frosty “waves” goodbye, and it's notoriously hard to wave while one's hands are secured to a wooden cross with metal spikes – perhaps “waved” replaced“nodded,” since the latter would violate the meter of the song.

Loose Ends

As with any novel theory, some details remain enigmatic or problematic. These are easily dismissed as purposeful red herrings or references to obscure 33rd-level Masonic symbology. (Please feel free to include your own wild speculation in the comments.) Among these are the “corncob pipe” and the “button nose.” Though the “eyes made out of coal” would seem to indicate an “infernal vision” of some kind, this is not a feature usually attributed to Jesus.

Conclusion

If I haven't convinced you of the dangerously hyperreligious and subversive nature of the seemingly innocuous Christmas carol “Frosty the Snowman,” you have probably ingested too much nutmeg and need your noggin examined.

Please have the brightest season ever, be merry and gay, and look forward to next Christmas's academic foray: “Transubstantiation and the Manger: The Edible Jesus from Trough to Wafer.”