The Santa Dilemma

[Saint Nicholas of Myra; photo credit: wikipedia]

What to do about Santa.

Yeah, this has been swirling around upstairs ever since the storybook lady down at the kids’ rec room asked Abby what she was asking Santa for Christmas last week. Abby stared at her blankly with a face that seemed to say, “Santa who?” Eric and I decided long before having kids that we would talk about the true meaning of Christmas with them, and Santa would be something we could share with them as they grew old enough to understand the true story of Saint Nicholas. I never gave it a second thought up until now. I guess I never anticipated the reaction we would inevitably get from those outside of our little niche.

I was never told about Santa as a child, at least not the North Pole version. I learned about it via osmosis, through watching claymation classics like “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” or “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” on television once a year. I don’t even remember having any kind of discussion about Santa with my parents or grandparents. My dad was also never taught about Santa Claus as a child. My grandparents wanted their kids to know who the gifts were actually from every Christmas, not from some fat fairytale figure smocked in a red-velvet tunic, donning a white beard and mustache; they couldn't relinquish the gift credit to some mythical legend known only in children's tales. On top of that is the fact that they couldn’t conscionably conceive of lying to their kids, only to later have to tell them it was all a big hoax. These are some of the same reasons why my parents never celebrated Santa.

Consequently, we always learned that Christmas is celebrated every year because of the birth of the incarnate Son of God. If it hadn’t been for Jesus, Santa wouldn’t even be the huge legend he is today. I truly think Nicholas of Myra (the original Saint Nick), if he were brought back from his third-century grave, would be ashamed he’s taken over Christmas as unabashedly as he has. After all, he was a believer, obeying Christ’s command to the rich, young ruler to sell all he had and give to the poor, and it was this Christ-following generosity that apparently became heralded over the years, along with grandiose truth-stretchings that sprouted mythical wings in the years after his death.

So what do I do about Santa Claus now? When the storybook lady asked Abby once again what she wanted from Santa, Abby looked at me and then quietly answered (probably trying to appease the curious questioner), “Snow.” Seeing that the lady was a bit bamboozled by the whole exchange, I used it as an opportunity to share my faith, saying that we mainly talk about Jesus with our kids at Christmas. She replied, “Oh, that’s good, too,” but looked at me like I had just stepped off a spaceship from Mars. Of course, being a Christian, I’m almost immune to this look by now.

I seriously am not sure what to tell Abby, though. I don’t want to tell her he’s become a legendary icon over the last 1700 years; how do you tell a child that anyway? I also don’t want her to go tell her Santa-Claus-believing friends that Santa is all a big joke. Can you imagine the flack from that? This morning, as I was fixing her hair, I gently broached the subject, “Do you know about Santa Claus, Abby?” She was intently playing with her Cinderella figurines and had little-to-no interest in knowing what I was mumbling about, so I gave up.

For now I guess I’ll remain in my default position, basically silent on the issue, talking only about the nativity and the true meaning behind Christmas instead; this has always been our stance. I figure she’ll ask me about Santa eventually, when she’s curious enough. I just want to be able to answer her effectively, both without the grandiose legendry and without smashing the whole idea of Santa Claus for everyone else in her little life. It seems an incredibly fine line, though.