Ah, Christmastime! A season of holly, hot chocolate, and . . . lies?
If you can’t find a picturesque roaring fire to warm you in this bleak midwinter, you can always catch some heat from the debates that flare up this time of year over Santa Claus. Some say the Santa Claus tradition is a fun diversion for kids. Others insist that the custom is not worth the deception it entails.
In this Christmas edition of Both Sides Now, you’ll get each take. Should Catholic families include Santa Claus in their traditions? Yes or no?
YES: In Defense of Santa Claus
In my grandparents’ house sit two statues sharing a common base. The Christ Child is in the manger . . . and before him, bright red cap in hand and with a gentle, loving smile, kneels Santa Claus. It sums up the magic of the Christmas season at its finest: human imagination and creativity pointing to, supporting, and joyfully subordinate to the adoration and celebration of the birth of the God-Man, who came to smash the shackles of sin.
Of course, many depictions of Santa feed a more materialistic view of Christmas, focused on gifts, chocolates, or at best family. Probably because of this, there seems to be a wave of opposition in certain Catholic circles today to the “jolly old elf.” He is not welcome in their homes, and their children go about telling others’ children that Santa Claus “is not real.” They say Santa is a lie, or as the Catechism states, “speaking a falsehood with the intention of deceiving” (2482). This is compounded by the destruction of your child’s trust in you when he “grows up” and learns the full truth, possibly endangering his faith.
If Santa is a lie, then that is sufficient reason to cut ties with him, no matter the nostalgia. However, it would also be sufficient reason to condemn the revered Catholic tradition of putting shoes out on the eve of St. Nicholas Day with the hope that the fourth-century bishop will fill them with treats. We must either bite the bullet and cease this deceptive practice as well, or show that this tradition is not a lie.
Neither the St. Nicholas nor the Santa Claus tradition is a lie. Rather, both are ways of imparting truth, in the same way a theater performance does.
St. Nick and Santa Claus have not always been identified as the same person. Santa Claus grew from a mix of Dutch and English traditions as a fairytale personification of the Christmas spirit that slowly got merged with the idea of St. Nicholas. In neither case, regardless, does he “literally” come down chimneys to drop candy in shoes or deliver presents. Rather, he is a personification of God’s providential care, generosity, and love—as real as anything gets. With these traditions, that is being communicated emotionally to the youngest of us in a way that captures their imaginations.
The most beautiful example I’ve seen of this in action would be the “Letters from Father Christmas” by J.R.R. Tolkien. For two decades, Tolkien wrote letters to his children from the British version of Santa Claus. Direct religious references are scant in these letters, but Tolkien’s Catholic faith is not in doubt. As you read them, you can tell he wrote them looking forward to seeing his kids’ excited faces when they opened the envelope on Christmas morning.
It would take a cold and stony heart to condemn this as “a falsehood with the intention of deceiving.” Rather, Tolkien’s thought on the nature of myths reveals that he was in fact imparting truth and beauty through these fantastic letters:
After all, I believe that legends and myths are largely made of “truth,” and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode; and long ago certain truths and modes of this kind were discovered and must always reappear.
When children grow older, they come to understand that the story is not literally true. But they also come to understand the spiritual truths and significance of what could be described as a symbol played out in time, as opposed to written on a page or painted on a canvas. Storytelling like this is important for humans, and it helps young children, especially by creating an excitement for Christmas that primes them to enter into the joy and mystery of the Incarnation.
It would be a lie to look a child in the eye (especially one who has reached the age of reason and has this all figured out, but wants you to confirm it) who asks, “Did St. Nick really do this?” and tell him, “Yes” to deceive him. It is possible that this is the experience of some in the anti-Santa camp.
But abuse does not negate proper use. It is not deceitful for the rest of us to continue this form of pageantry on December 25 (and December 6). The legend, if handled appropriately, highlights the very real truth of the otherworldly joy, wonder, and gratitude to God that should consume our souls during this season. “Growing out” of Santa Claus is an opportunity to “grow into” and embrace what he was meant to point you to and emotionally prime you to celebrate: God’s generous gift of himself and salvation.
You might still ask, even if these traditions are not “lies,” why the Incarnation is not enough. Why pollute this holy season with superfluous, secular trappings that can distract from what should be the real source of mystery and excitement?
The word “need” is dangerous. We don’t “need” Christmas lights, trees, chocolate, good food, or even presents to celebrate the Incarnation. We don’t even “need” beautiful music at Mass or art in our churches. Following this logic, all of these things can be distractions from what our heart should be focused on in this holy season.
But the Church’s has “feast” days because we are body and soul. We enter into spiritual mysteries, at least in part, through physical and mental experience—with the sacraments being the ultimate example. Things like food, decorations, Christmas trees, and Christmas presents are not the point of Christmas, but they do remind us that this season is important and that what we are celebrating is not normal. Acting out the story of a Santa Claus, who comes to give gifts to children to celebrate the Christ Child, is an extension of this.
The Church has not condemned the Santa Claus tradition. Lying to a child who directly asks if Santa is real would be wrong and unhelpful. Play-acting a tradition that children come to understand in its fullness as they grow is not.
If he kneels before the manger and helps you adore Our Lord, then Kris Kringle can be a very real friend who helps evangelize your family. Whether or not he visits your home this Christmas, I hope the spirit of God’s generosity and providential care, which he symbolizes, fills you and your family with joy and gratitude during this holy time.
NO: 3 Reasons to Ditch Santa
By Drew Belsky
I can’t take it anymore. After hearing every extended family member, friend, coworker extol the cult of Santa Claus, I must speak out. Here are three problems with the Santa cult and their solutions.
Problem #1: You’re lying to your kids.
Christians’ latitude to lie is a hot topic in our day. Usually, the lying debate centers on one of two issues: the infamous “Nazis at the door” thought experiment and pro-life sting operations in abortion facilities. These are high-stakes, cold sweat-inducing scenarios in which, it’s argued, one might lie without sin. But when the “pro-lying” side adds to this list the need to convince credulous children that a man-sprite leaves packages under their mantel, the whole thing starts to look ludicrous.
Let’s not be beatin’ around the Christmas tree on this. The narrative about Santa—that he writes you a letter, descends your chimney, brings you gifts, and eats your cookies—is a lie. Knowing it’s not true, we tell our kids anyway, hoping they’ll believe it—not fuzzily, as a fairy tale, but for real.
Lying is not to be taken lightly. Whatever mitigating factors might exist case by case, every lie is a sin (CCC 2482ff). Catholics should strive never to lie—not to our children, not even about trivialities. As our Lord puts it, “He who is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much” (Luke 16:10). Once your kid (or your friend, your spouse, your boss) finds out you fudged the facts about one thing, who could blame him for wondering what’s next?
The solution: Don’t.
Even Santa-philes can present him without lying. It won’t crush any kid to explain that no one expects him to take this fairy tale literally. Neil, the quasi-villain in the divorce fantasy The Santa Clause, describes Santa as “more of a feeling—more of a state of mind than an actual person.” Maybe that’s too far, but it’s closer to the mark than the lie. (Kinda unlike Neil.)
Problem #2: A widening gyre of lies.
The Santa lie is bigger than individual parents deceiving their kids. Society pressures everyone else—even the childless—to perpetuate the lie for others’ kids, too. What if I slip? What if I reveal the truth? What if I scar this kid forever?
A relative of mine, in anticipation of visiting, described the talk she felt compelled to take time and assemble for her kids because we Belskys don’t “do Santa.” It was elaborate, intricate, like a fine Islamic tapestry. I can’t remember the particulars. No one could reasonably be expected to.
Nor must we forget the innocent new inductees: the munchkins who have just learned the truth. Now the classroom is a minefield. Again from The Santa Clause: “Charlie came home from school the other day in tears because some big kid told him there was no such thing as Santa.” We feel bad for Charlie, but we should feel bad for the big kid, too.
The solution: Set boundaries.
This applies not just to Santa Claus, but to almost everything. We can instruct our children (and resolve for ourselves) to be considerate of others—even of others’ delusions (within reason). But we can also draw a solid “no” line at sinning, and be upfront about that with friends and relatives who demand our participation in the mendacious Santus quo.
Here’s the simple line my wife and I teach our kids: “I get presents from my parents on Christmas.”
Problem #3: Impossible expectations.
In the frenzy to defend the Santa process, people paper over its dark side: on Christmas Eve, dear children, Santa brings you presents . . . if you’re good. . . all year long. If not, coal.
This crushing expectation is great fodder for Calvin & Hobbes comics, but it’s no good for real kids. (And don’t get me started on Big Brother on the Shelf. Set that thing on fire.) No parent is going to make good on all those yuletide threats. We spend weeks, maybe months researching, finding, purchasing, wrapping, arranging, and presenting all these gifts. Even the perfect Catholic family, who gets each of his kids just one nice thing, also (as the perfect Catholic family) will need eighteen nice things to give. And after all that work . . . what?
Certainly not coal. That would be just another expense—although I did just discover that the perfect Catholic family can buy bulk.
The solution: Love, generosity, sacrifice.
There are opportunities to teach our kids consequences for bad behavior. Christmas is not one of them. In our house, the kids get gifts—not because they’ve earned them, but because we love the kids. We give to them beyond their ability to pay back, exactly as God does to us.
This beats the myth that Santa in his tundra fires up the toy-making (or, um, iPad-making) machinery. Rather, we love God so much that we rush to give, and they should do likewise. They won’t crawl down chimneys, but they can conceive of writing a card in adorable wobbling child-script for their family members.
Santa Claus as we know him was dreamed up by the Coca-Cola Company. Our culture has inverted Advent and Christmastide and demands that we follow suit. Let’s not.
I’m not calling for a book-burning for The Night Before Christmas. We don’t need to smash all our copies of Miracle on 34th Street. On the contrary, we can strip the lies and keep what’s good: a charming fiction about “a right jolly old elf,” not withholding the “fiction” part.
It doesn’t take an elaborate framework of untruth to instill a sense of wonder about Christmas. The birth of Our Lord, along with the honest fruits of the love it inspires in all of us, more than suffices for that.