I have put a lot of thought into this recently. I do not yet have children, but I want them so badly to believe in Santa Claus and have made this very well known with my husband. A friend of mine recently had a daughter who lost a tooth, thus sparking conversation amongst her playmates about "mythical" characters such as the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and - *gasp*- Santa Claus. My friend Kate (the mother) explained:
I didn't expect this so soon. I told her that all of them are real and that We Believe no matter what other people say! I said, "if you don't believe then they don't come anymore..."
I was so relieved! I thought that she saved the innocence of this little girl and dodged a bullet on the whole thing. However, when Kate brought this up at dinner with about 8 other friends she was attacked! As Christians, there was a lot of discussion and story telling about kids who found out the truth about the "magic" of Christmas and later also concluded that Jesus was not real either.
I was so heartbroken! I have heard this argument before and always dismissed it as such a stupid excuse. So, let me tell you my story-
As the oldest of 5 children, I had no older siblings whispering in my ear. Even if I had, I was filled with blind faith. I was not stupid. I knew that the "logic" of Santa didn't make sense, but I also didn't believe that everything in life had to be logical. I truly believed in magic. My parents took us to Disneyland every year and nothing was pretend. It was just magic. So it was with Christmas and that was good enough for us! Scripture stories were referred to as "miracles" but they seemed basically interchangeable to me.
When I was about 10, I had heard some talk at school, but I basically just ignored it with the smugness that I just knew more than the other kids. Then my younger sister started to pipe up. "Santa can't be real," she would say and give me all these reasons. I still didn't dare believe it. She'd argue that Santa at the mall didn't have a real beard and I'd think, "So what? That doesn't mean Santa Claus isn't real! It just means the Santa perpetrator at the mall isn't real!" That Christmas I put some thought into it and wanted to do some slight investigating. I thought, "There's no way that Santa's not real. Our parents would NEVER buy us that much stuff!" Ha. That's funny. But, I remember going to a Christmas party at my Grandma's house where the big guy showed up. It was my birthday (December baby) and Santa (who had a real beard) knew it and called me by my name without asking and proceeded to tell me that he had a daughter who had a birthday on the 18th of December. Now, most of you out there are probably thinking- HELLO! That guy was friends with your grandma and totally broke character to tell you about his family! But, instead, I started to see Santa through different eyes. He was a real person! He had a real life, a real family. If there was any time for me to stop believing it was right then. I think my desire to believe just overpowered my desire for logic and I have never doubted since.
I found an Easter present meant for me when I was in 5th grade. It was a recorder with Beauty and the Beast accompaniment. I was SO excited! How awesome was that?! (Insert current-day chuckle). I mentioned to my mom that learning to play Beauty and the Beast music would be so fun. Uh oh. Cover blown. Later that night she asked me to talk with her privately in her bedroom. She got me to admit that I had found the gift. She asked, "so what does that mean?" I looked down ashamedly and mumbled, "the Easter Bunny isn't real." I was afraid I wouldn't get the gift on Easter, in spite of the fact that she had not hid it well. She asked threateningly, "who else?" I said, still looking at the floor, "Tooth Fairy." Then it came, "WHO else?" My head snapped up in confusion and my mom gave me that inquiring look. She said hesitantly, "what about... Santa Claus?" My eyes flew wide open (you would have thought I'd have seen where this was going) and I declared, "OH NO! HE'S REAL!" She was satisfied. She smiled and said that I was right and told me I wouldn't be punished as long as I pretended the Easter Bunny was real for my younger brothers and sisters.
I remember being in Jr. High and laying in bed one December night thinking about Santa Claus. I still anticipated Christmas morning but logic was starting to overcome my childlike faith as I became a young adult. I knew if I asked my mom, she would tell me the truth. Let's be honest- I was about 13 at this point and I am sure she felt so lucky that I had held on so long. Still, my biggest fear was that if I asked, the magic would end. At that point, I didn't want to know the truth. I knew my mom would NEVER tell me if I never asked. Still, I remember contemplating the whole scenario and thinking, "Ok, if I choose to believe, when will they tell me? My wedding day? When I have my first child?" I was so afraid of the harsh reality of finding out that there was no Santa Claus.
It was finally in 8th grade when I started mentioning to my mom at the mall that maybe Santa could bring that new sweater I wanted. We still discussed him as if he were real with an underlying understanding that my parents played a part in his arrival. This year my mom mentioned to me that yes, they did a lot of work to make Christmas special for us, but that she still believed in Santa. He was just different than what we imagined. At that point I was old enough to understand the importance of believing in Santa Claus. At our house, he wasn't just the secular representation of Christmas. He was a reminder of so many good and wonderful things in the world, in the same spirit that Christ gives us hope for a beautiful and wonderful life. I have never understood how the two could be separated.
In addition, I later went on to work at Disney in their character department as an adult. Like I said, as a young child everything was real. Seeing Disney behind the scenes sure brought a sense of reality to my world, but that didn't change the way I affected the thousands of people I met each day for whom it would never get any more real. It brought a new sense of understanding to what is real and what was not. Were these characters created in an animation studio? Yes. Some would say that would make them not real, and yet, here I was portraying this "fake" person every day. I wasn't fake. People didn't treat me like I was fake. This was my life and it was very much real- it was magic.
The Christmas I spent at Disney was the first I spent away from home. I couldn't be with my family and I spent it with my best friend, Britney, who was my roommate at the time. I was really anxious about it. I thought it would be less magical. Don't get me wrong, it was much different than Christmases past, but it was wonderful. I was still excited to get up and open my stocking. We only had about a 12 inch tree, there was no snow, there was no Christmas dinner, but somehow Santa had found us. Working at Disney, we say of those people who can separate the magic from the reality, and still believe, that they are "full of pixie dust." I have always been. I consider it one of my greatest talents.
Another year, I spent the holiday season as a nanny for a wonderful Jewish family with 3 children, ages 9, 7, and 4. There was much discussion about Christmas and Hanukkah. The oldest, in particular, would express concern to me about Santa Claus. Obviously he didn't come to their house and obviously it was an unfathomable tale that children were stupid to believe in anyway (the workings of her little brain were so intense to begin with!). Yet, I never confirmed her conclusion, just gave her things to think about that didn't contradict her own religion, and all 3 kids would ask me privately, "Do you believe in Santa Claus?" with some hope that maybe there was some truth, something magical that they couldn't explain and didn't participate in, that existed in the world. I always said confidently, "I do." I think it intrigued them that as an adult I would say that, whether I was just being indulgent or not. It impressed me that they had enough desire to believe even though they were never taught the ways of Santa Claus.
Christmas continued to change after I was married and suddenly spending it with "strangers." My husband and his family's understanding of Santa Claus was different, but he was still very real. I'm sure it will be much different when I have children of my own, and I can only imagine that that is when believing in Santa Claus will be more important than it's ever been before.
On a spiritual note, I have a great, deep, and fulfilling love for Jesus Christ. I have felt his love present in my life in so many ways. I appreciate the sacrifice He made for each one of us and try my very hardest to live worthy of that sacrifice. I have also never doubted His existence, even His presence, in my life. My relationship with Him is personal, rich, and filled with too many blessings to count. I have always been active in my religion and continue to do so on a weekly basis.
So, now that you've heard my story, here is my argument.
Children want to believe in Santa Claus. I admit there are children who are interested in logic and "truth," but most just want to be children, whether they know it or not (like my Jewish kids). I love the Miracle on 34th Street because I think it perfectly illustrates that none of us know the truth about Santa Claus. Little Susan knows the "truth" and yet, wants to believe differently. I think it's a great expression for her desire to have faith. In any religion, faith is our very first principle.
Parents express their concern for being caught in a "lie." What lie? That a fat man doesn't come down your chimney? Reindeer can't fly? Kids can and will work those out eventually on their own. Parents aren't thinking outside of the box. They are forgetting the real story. We didn't make up Santa Claus. It was the great St Nicholas of the 12th century that was an inspiration to us all in a tradition that we have found ways to embellish. The part that bothers me the most about this excuse is- when did parents become the ultimate source of truth?! If you are using this excuse you better NEVER be wrong. You will be wrong at some point. Parents are not perfect. Parents tell little white lies. Parents with hold information to avoid telling the WHOLE truth. Parents are human! I believe in being honest with your children and answering their questions (particularly about sex), but I think part of being a parent is judging when this approach is best. My parents do not confirm truth to me, the Holy Ghost does. The Holy Ghost will confirm to your children whether or not Jesus is real and they will not only have to take your word for it- they will have to learn it on their own.
I love the book, "I Believe in Santa Claus." It gives comparisons of Santa and Jesus. I highly encourage anyone to pick it up and read it. One reader said:
"The symbol of Santa Claus was never meant to replace the true meaning of Christmas. To the contrary, everything about St. Nicholas or Santa Claus, from his dress to his actions has always been meant to remind us of the birth and life of Christ. Finally, a children's book that does just that. Excellent!"
Patric St. Clair, Childrens Book Author
I think that having faith or a belief in Santa Claus is in many ways a prerequisite for having faith of any kind, including faith in Christ. I will never use the magic of Christmas and a belief in Santa Claus against my religion. I believe so strongly that they can go hand in hand.
In college, my roommate and I stayed up all night one night- in early September- telling each other about all the different ways we had come to love Christmas. We were filled with so much child like faith and excitement, and I knew she had also come from a home where they truly believe in Santa Claus. We made a paper chain that circled our bedroom a number of times, counting down to Christmas, because even though we were "grown-ups," we still knew how special it was.
I hope it is always special in my home. I hope that just like the young boy from The Polar Express, I will always hear the sound of the bell from Santa's sleigh.
