I have something of a controversial Christmas confession to make.
I love Santa. Jolly Old Saint Nick. Father Christmas. Sinterklaas.
My love for him surprised me: one Advent I was decorating for the season, and began unpacking decorations. I suddenly realized that I have—ahem—a lot of Santa figures. Red or green, whimsical or traditional, even different nationalities from Polish to Mexican…and one Lego Santa Jim put together as a child. From 24 inches to two inches tall, stand-alone figures to tree ornaments, I treasure them all.
As I pondered this accidental and apparently worldly collection, I began to question where it began. One Santa Claus Hallmark ornament box is documented in my mom’s handwriting: 1979.
A few years later, my brother, David, gave me a lovely Santa in a traditional 1800s style. My best friends from highschool, Ben and Steve, gave me an ornament depicting Santa holding a bottle of Coca-Cola, and cheerfully playing with a puppy.
Early in our marriage, Jim and his sister Mary each (accidentally) gave me identical Santas fashioned from craft supplies; his sister Alyson toll painted one for me. Our sister-in-law Beata sent me a set of glossy ceramic Santas festooned in celebratory snowflakes.
My goddaughter Danielle gifted me a tall, skinny Santa one year, and dear friends Rick and Jane found many unique Santas for me in my teens and twenties. My friend Tricia gave me one with an artificial tree slung over his shoulder, and whose branches I re-arrange each year.
I could go on.
And on.
This is to say that, as the Santas found their way home to me, I actually keep in mind who gifted me each one: each represents one of the many close relationships I’ve been blessed with across my life.
This collection and resulting devotion to Santa, of course, flies in the face of Christ’s-mass, doesn’t it? If I am to be a faithful Catholic, shouldn’t I reject the ostensibly-pagan Santa Claus and embrace the Nativity? Are the two mutually exclusive?
Nope.
As it happens, Saint Nicholas was a real person. He lived in 4th century Greece and was an only child, orphaned at a young age. He was raised by his uncle, a Roman Catholic Bishop, and chose the priesthood for himself when he became an adult. He went on to become Bishop of Myra.
Having received a rather substantial inheritance from his parents, he chose to use his wealth for anonymous acts of charity. Once such act was this: he heard of a gentleman in town who did not have enough money to offer as dowry for each of his three daughters.
In order to prevent the young ladies from living lives of hardship (read: prostitution), he tossed a bag filled with coins through the window of their home late one night. There was enough in the bag for the eldest daughter’s dowry and she was soon married. Bishop Nicholas repeated this generous act of charity twice more, with the same results: both younger daughters were soon married, and they family was able to continue in society without suffering the ill-effects of poverty and a ruined reputation.
Interestingly, Bishop Nicholas was present during the Council of Nicea in the year 325, where he was a staunch opponent of Arianism (the belief that Jesus Christ was created at the time of His conception rather than having been eternally present with God the Father).
He is known to have slapped another bishop across the face as they were debating the matter of Arianism, an act which earned him a stint in jail. The Council eventually sided with Trinitarians like Bishop Nicholas, and wrote the Nicene Creed, affirming Jesus’s eternal co-divinity with God the Father and with God the Holy Spirit.
Bishop Nicholas died on December 6, 343. Since the Catholic Church celebrates saints on the date of their deaths, it was rather accidental that his feast day is so near the birth of the Baby Jesus. Accidental, but fortuitous, as Saint Nicholas is a perfect example of charitable giving.
My mother-in-law gave me a couple of gentle Santas, kneeling and adoring the infant Jesus. My mom found a couple of lovely figurines of Santa depicted as one of the Wise Men. I even have a couple of statues of the venerable Bishop of Myra himself, dressed in—you guessed it—a pointed red mitre and a red chasuble, liturgical vestments which look strikingly similar to the familiar red cap and coat we are so used to seeing on Santa Claus.
Saint Nicholas—Santa Claus—is a Jesus-follower.
So, why in the world do I love Santa as much as I do, aside from the obvious love for Jesus, generous and anonymous acts of charity, and outrageous love for fellow man? The answer was shocking in its simplicity.
My middle name is Nicole.
Comments