Day 3 of Blogmas 2025! For those just tuning in, Blogmas is my annual tradition of posting holiday-themed content every day from December 1st through Christmas Day. It’s like an advent calendar, except instead of chocolate, you get my opinions about things. This year, I’ve outsourced my creative prompts to AI because apparently, I enjoy adding layers of meta-commentary to everything I do. Today’s AI-generated prompt: Rank your favorite Christmas TV episodes (sitcom specials, dramas, cartoons, etc.).

Now, I could just throw out a standard top 10 list, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, let’s take a chronological journey through television history—or at least through my personal collection of favorite Christmas episodes. These are the episodes I return to each December, the ones that have earned permanent spots in my holiday rotation. Some are obvious choices, others might surprise you, but all of them represent something special about how TV has handled the holidays over the past three-plus decades.

And before anyone asks: Yes, the classic animated specials like Charlie Brown and Rudolph deserve love, but they need their own dedicated post. Today, we’re talking about Christmas episodes of regular TV series—those special installments where our favorite characters navigate the holidays with varying degrees of success and dysfunction.

1989: “Simpsons Roasting on an Open Fire” (The Simpsons, Season 1, Episode 1)

Let’s start at the beginning—literally. Most people forget that The Simpsons began its full-length life with a Christmas episode. After appearing as shorts on The Tracey Ullman Show, the Simpson family made their proper debut on December 17, 1989, with a holiday special that would set the tone for everything that followed.

“Simpsons Roasting on an Open Fire” (also known as “The Simpsons Christmas Special”) isn’t just historically significant—it’s genuinely great television. Homer doesn’t get his Christmas bonus, Marge has to spend the Christmas money on tattoo removal for Bart, and suddenly the Simpson family is broke for the holidays. Homer’s solution? Work as a mall Santa, bet on dog races, and ultimately adopt Santa’s Little Helper, the world’s worst racing greyhound who becomes the family’s beloved pet.

What makes this episode brilliant isn’t just the humor—though Homer pulling Bart by his ear while dressed as Santa remains comedy gold—it’s how it established the show’s entire ethos in 22 minutes. The Simpsons are dysfunctional but loving, perpetually struggling but ultimately united. Homer screws up constantly but genuinely loves his family. And sometimes, the best Christmas presents are the ones you never planned for, like a rejected racing dog who’ll become part of your family for the next 35+ years and counting.

The animation is rough by today’s standards—heck, it was rough by 1990’s standards—but there’s something charming about those crude early designs. This was before The Simpsons became an institution, when it was just a weird little animated show about a working-class family that Fox was taking a chance on. That it began with Christmas feels appropriate; the show has always been about finding humor and heart in the struggles of American family life, and nothing brings those struggles into focus quite like the holidays.

1998: “The Strike” (Seinfeld, Season 9, Episode 10)

Nearly a decade later, Seinfeld gave us perhaps the most culturally impactful Christmas episode of all time—though calling it a “Christmas” episode might be stretching it. “The Strike” introduced the world to Festivus, the Costanza family’s alternative to Christmas, complete with an aluminum pole, the Airing of Grievances, and Feats of Strength.

“A Festivus for the rest of us!” Frank Costanza’s declaration has entered the cultural lexicon in a way few TV quotes manage. What started as a writers’ room joke based on writer Dan O’Keefe’s own family tradition has become an actual holiday that people celebrate. There are Festivus poles sold on Amazon. Bars hold Festivus parties. People genuinely air their grievances on December 23rd.

The genius of “The Strike” is how it takes the typical Seinfeld formula—these are terrible people doing terrible things—and applies it to the holiday season. While other shows were doing heartwarming Christmas episodes about the importance of family and giving, Seinfeld gave us Kramer going back to work at H&H Bagels after a 12-year strike, Elaine giving out fake phone numbers to earn a free sub, and George handing out donation cards for a fake charity called “The Human Fund” (Money for People).

It’s anti-Christmas Christmas television at its finest. No learning, no hugging, no growing. Just Frank Costanza screaming about tinsel and George being traumatized by childhood memories. It shouldn’t work as holiday viewing, but somehow the cynicism becomes its own form of comfort. After all, if you’re feeling stressed about the holidays, watching the Costanzas’ deranged version of celebration makes your own family seem positively functional.

1998: “Amends” (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 3, Episode 10)

The same year Seinfeld was introducing Festivus, Buffy was taking a much darker approach to Christmas. “Amends” remains one of the series’ most powerful episodes, using the holiday setting to explore themes of redemption, forgiveness, and the weight of past sins.

Angel is being tormented by the First Evil (making its first appearance in the series), which is trying to convince him to kill Buffy or himself. The episode culminates with Angel waiting for sunrise on Christmas morning, ready to end his existence rather than risk hurting Buffy. It’s heavy stuff for a Christmas episode, but that’s what made Buffy special—it never shied away from real emotion, even during the holidays.

What saves the episode from being unbearably dark is the miraculous snowfall in Sunnydale—a Southern California town where snow is basically impossible. It’s never explicitly stated whether this is divine intervention, a Christmas miracle, or just freak weather, but it blocks the sun and saves Angel’s life. Sometimes Buffy could be a bit on-the-nose with its metaphors, but this one works: even in the darkness, even when you think you’re beyond redemption, sometimes grace appears in unexpected forms.

We also get a glimpse of the First Evil here, the shape-shifting entity that would become the Big Bad of Season 7. Looking back, it’s fascinating to see the seeds being planted so early. The First appears as people from Angel’s past, forcing him to confront his deadly history as Angelus. It’s psychological torture wrapped in Christmas packaging, and it works brilliantly.

2000: “The One with the Holiday Armadillo” (Friends, Season 7, Episode 10)

Speaking of episodes I’ve analyzed to death, “The One with the Holiday Armadillo” represents Friends at its comfort-food best. Ross wants to teach Ben about Hanukkah, but the only costume left at the rental shop is an armadillo. Thus begins one of the most absurd and delightful Christmas episodes in sitcom history.

The image of Ross in that armadillo costume trying to explain the Maccabees to his son is funny enough on its own. But then the episode doubles down on the absurdity: Chandler shows up as Santa, Joey arrives as Superman, and suddenly you have Santa, Superman, and an armadillo standing together celebrating Hanukkah. It’s completely ridiculous and completely perfect.

What I love about this episode is how it manages to be both silly and sincere. Ross genuinely wants to share his Jewish heritage with his son, and the episode treats that desire with respect even while mining it for comedy. The fact that Ben ends up loving the Holiday Armadillo, and that Ross manages to teach him about Hanukkah despite (or perhaps because of) the chaos, gives the episode real heart beneath the laughs.

Plus, watching David Schwimmer try to navigate basic movements in that costume—the way he can barely fit through doorways, the awkward way he has to sit—is physical comedy at its finest. It’s the kind of thing that makes me laugh just thinking about it, even after having watched it dozens of times for both pleasure and professional analysis.

2006: “How Lily Stole Christmas” (How I Met Your Mother, Season 2, Episode 11)

How I Met Your Mother gave us several solid Christmas episodes over its run, but “How Lily Stole Christmas” stands out for one reason: it makes me genuinely angry at a fictional character, which is quite an achievement.

The premise is simple: Lily discovers that Ted called her a “grinch” (the show’s substitute for a word that rhymes with “witch”) when she left Marshall to go to San Francisco. She responds by taking all the Christmas decorations from the apartment, leaving Ted to deal with the consequences. It’s meant to be funny, but honestly? Lily’s reaction drives me up the wall.

Look, I’m usually anti-Ted. His pretentious pronunciations, his obsession with “the one,” his general Ted-ness—not a fan. But in this case? The man was defending his best friend who had just been dumped and devastated. Of course he said mean things about Lily! That’s what friends do! The fact that she holds this grudge months later, after she and Marshall are back together, and ruins everyone’s Christmas over it? It’s infuriating.

And yet… that’s kind of what makes it a great episode. It captures something real about how old wounds can resurface during the holidays, how the stress of the season can make small slights feel massive. The episode does eventually reach a sweet resolution, with Ted making amends and the gang coming together for Christmas. But every time I rewatch it, I spend most of the episode wanting to shake Lily and tell her to get over herself.

The fact that an episode can still make me this emotionally invested after all these years says something about its effectiveness, even if my emotional investment mainly involves yelling at fictional characters about their poor life choices.

2006-2007: “A Benihana Christmas” (The Office, Season 3, Episodes 10-11)

Moving from one dysfunctional group to another, we arrive at Dunder Mifflin Scranton’s attempt at holiday celebration. “A Benihana Christmas” is The Office firing on all cylinders—a two-part episode that combines the show’s signature cringe comedy with genuine heart.

The episode splits into two parallel Christmas parties after Angela’s Party Planning Committee faces a coup from Pam and Karen’s Committee to Plan Parties. Meanwhile, Michael, heartbroken after Carol dumps him for photoshopping himself into her family Christmas photo (an all-time great Michael Scott disaster), goes to Benihana with Andy, Jim, and Dwight.

What follows is nothing short of classic television. Michael and Andy bring back two waitresses from Benihana—except they’re clearly different women than the ones they were talking to at the restaurant. Michael has to mark his “date’s” arm with a Sharpie to tell her apart from the other woman. It’s offensive, embarrassing, and completely in character. This is The Office at its best: making you laugh while simultaneously making you want to crawl under a table from secondhand embarrassment.

But what elevates this episode beyond just cringe comedy is the genuine emotion underneath. Jim’s gift to Pam—though complicated by his relationship with Karen—shows he still cares. The two competing parties eventually merge into one. And Michael, despite his many, many flaws, gets a moment of genuine humanity when he admits he’s lonely and just wants to be included.

We’ve all been to awkward office parties. We’ve all navigated the weird dynamics of forced workplace socializing during the holidays. This episode just dials it up to eleven.

2010-2011: Community‘s One-Two Christmas Punch

Community blessed us with multiple memorable Christmas episodes, but two stand out as absolute classics, both for completely different reasons.

“Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas” (Season 2, Episode 11) is the stop-motion animated episode where Abed perceives everyone as Christmas special characters while dealing with his mother’s absence. It’s ambitious, weird, and surprisingly emotional—everything Community did best. The animation style perfectly captures those Rankin/Bass specials we all grew up with, but uses that nostalgic format to tell a story about trauma, coping mechanisms, and found family.

What gets me about this episode is how it manages to be both a clever parody and a genuine exploration of how we use pop culture to process pain. Abed’s breakdown manifests as stop-motion animation because that’s his language, his way of understanding the world. The episode never mocks him for this; instead, it celebrates the way stories and traditions help us make sense of difficult emotions.

Then, a year later, “Regional Holiday Music” (Season 3, Episode 10) goes in a completely different direction with a pitch-perfect Glee parody. The study group gets pulled one by one into the Glee club’s Christmas pageant through increasingly elaborate musical numbers. It’s biting satire—the songs are genuinely catchy while also being savage takedowns of Glee‘s often problematic approach to issues.

Annie’s sexy Christmas song (“Teach Me How to Understand Christmas”) is wrong on so many levels and hilarious on all of them. Troy and Abed’s rap about infiltrating Christmas is an earworm I still can’t shake. And the revelation that the Glee club director killed the previous club in a bus crash is dark even for Community.

These two episodes represent the range of what Christmas TV can be: heartfelt and experimental in one case, satirical and sharp in the other. Both work because they’re grounded in character—Abed’s episodes always hit different—and both understand that the best holiday entertainment can challenge the form while still delivering the warm fuzzies.

2021: “Carol of the Bells” (Ted Lasso, Season 2, Episode 4)

Finally, we arrive at the most recent addition to my annual Christmas viewing: Ted Lasso‘s “Carol of the Bells.” In a show where pretty much every episode is gold, this Christmas installment manages to stand out by being simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking.

The episode follows multiple storylines: Ted dealing with being away from his son at Christmas, Roy and Keeley navigating their relationship while helping little Phoebe with a case of bad breath, and the team’s get together at the Higgins home. Each thread is handled with the show’s signature mix of optimism and emotional honesty.

What makes this episode special is how it acknowledges that Christmas can be lonely and difficult while still finding reasons to celebrate. Ted’s video calls with his son are painful to watch—Jason Sudeikis plays the forced cheer covering deep sadness perfectly. Even the comedy beats, like Roy’s niece having a dental examination in someone’s home on Christmas Eve, are rooted in character truth.

The episode also features one of the series’ best moments: Rebecca and Ted showing up on Higgins’ street with a group of sidewalk performers for a last minute Christmas sing-along, turning what could have been Ted’s loneliest day into something beautiful. It’s earned sentiment—we’ve watched these relationships build, so when they come together, it feels genuine rather than forced.

Every episode of Ted Lasso is gold, but this Christmas episode achieves something special. It understands that the holidays amplify whatever you’re already feeling—joy becomes more joyful, but sadness becomes more acute too. By acknowledging both sides of that coin, it creates something that feels more honestly Christmas than any amount of forced cheer could achieve.

The Thread That Binds

Looking at this chronological journey from 1989 to 2021, what strikes me is how each great Christmas episode succeeds by being true to its show’s core identity while using the holiday setting to amplify those qualities. The Simpsons finds working-class humor and heart. Seinfeld doubles down on cynicism. Buffy goes dark but redemptive. Friends embraces absurdist comfort. The Office mines awkwardness for both comedy and connection. Community experiments with form. Ted Lasso balances optimism with honest emotion.

These episodes work not because they abandon what makes their shows special in favor of generic holiday sentiment, but because they use Christmas as a lens to examine their characters more closely. The holidays strip away pretense, amplify emotions, and force people together in ways that reveal truth. The best Christmas episodes understand this and use it to create television that’s both seasonally appropriate and fundamentally true to their shows’ spirits.

So this December, as I make my way through this roster once again, I’ll laugh at the Holiday Armadillo, cringe at Michael Scott, get angry at Lily Aldrin all over again, and maybe tear up a little when the Richmond team sings in the snow. Because that’s what great Christmas television does—it becomes part of our own holiday tradition, as essential as tree lights and too many cookies.

Even if sometimes it involves teaching children about Hanukkah while dressed as a giant armored mammal. Especially then, actually.