In defense of Santa Claus
We want to include Santa in our Christmas celebrations, yet we do not want to "sell out" to consumerism. Knowing the history of Santa Claus may help many of us more freely enjoy our Yuletide traditions.
Santa Claus. The name evokes a wealth of images: red suit, bag of toys, sleigh, reindeer, snow-covered chimneys on Christmas Eve. To parents dealing with his presence in contemporary North American life, the name can draw forth a decidedly ambivalent response as well: Giver of gifts or invitation to greed? Jolly old elf or role model for obesity? Christmas symbol or advertising ploy?
The bombardment of Christmas commercialism beginning in mid-October or earlier puts many of us on the defensive. We want to include Santa in our Christmas celebrations, yet we do not want to "sell out" to consumerism. Knowing the history of Santa Claus (aka Saint Nicholas) may help many of us more freely enjoy our Yuletide traditions.
The Nicholas Legend
Santa's journey from Nicholas, third-century boy bishop and miracle worker, to Christmas Eve sleigh driver is long and fascinating. Nicholas was born, by most accounts, around 270 AD in Patara, Asia Minor (now Turkey), to parents who had waited 30 years for the birth of a child. As an infant, he refused to nurse until after sundown on all fast days, including Wednesdays and Fridays. When he was nine years old, both his parents died in a plague, where-upon he began to pour his great love for them into helping the poor and the needy.
For hundreds of years, the Nicholas legend was kept alive and embellished through oral transmission. Finally, in the ninth century, written records began to appear. Throughout the Middle Ages and on into the Renaissance, devotion to Nicholas remained strong. His legendary deeds were extolled in stories, songs, sermons, poems, miracle plays, and artwork.
One story tells of a merchant who, having fallen on hard times, could not produce the dowries needed to marry off his three daughters. So the girls decided to draw lots to see who would sell herself into slavery (prostitution) to help the family. The merchant was in despair--and we can assume the girls were not excited about the idea, either. Nicholas, upon hearing of their plight, came unnoticed in the night and threw a bag of gold through an open window. The money provided a dowry for the eldest daughter. Time passed, and Nicholas repeated the kindness for the second daughter. When he came the third time, the merchant heard him and chased him through the streets to thank him. When at last they spoke, Nicholas begged the merchant to keep the generosity a secret for as long as he lived.
Another legend describes how the boy Nicholas, upon returning by ship from the Holy Land and managing to avert a wreck in a storm, was elected bishop of Myra (now Demre, Turkey). Later, when the people of Myra were suffering a famine, Nicholas convinced the captain of a disembarking ship to leave a year's supply of grain for the people, promising that the hoppers would be full when the ship reached her destination. Pulling into port, the ship was indeed filled with grain.
Then there is the hair-raising tale of three students who stopped at an inn on their way home for the holidays. The innkeeper murdered them and placed their dismembered bodies in vats of pickling brine. Nicholas, finding the bodies, restored the boys to life and wholeness with a wave of his scepter. Nicholas is credited with a wide variety of other miracles as well, including healing the sick, driving out demons, causing holy oils to flow, returning kidnapped children, ferreting out debtors, ending infertility, doing battle with the goddess Diana, and flying to the rescue like some distant ancestor of Superman.
After his death, which reportedly occurred on December 6, 343, Nicholas was popularly declared a saint. Before long, he was adopted as the patron saint of sailors, maidens, schoolboys, pawnbrokers (who took on the symbol of three golden balls, reminiscent of the three bags of gold), and even thieves.
With the spread of Christianity came further popularity. Sailors traveling abroad carried with them not only their religious traditions, but also the Nicholas legend, and when they retired from the sea to less strenuous river routes, they brought the story inland with them. Churches and chapels were erected in his honor. Entire guilds, towns, cities, and countries embraced him as their patron saint.
In the East, Nicholas remained the patron saint of sailors and others. In Europe, however, he evolved into a gift bringer, and children set out shoes or hung up stockings in eager anticipation of his visit. Some historians attribute this tradition to the legend of the three maidens. Others say the Roman Catholic Church superimposed the name and symbology of Nicholas on this and other preexisting local customs.
Indeed, winter gift giving was already in practice in northern Europe. The white-bearded Norse god Odin was believed to ride through the sky at winter solstice, bringing home the souls of the dead. And the children would leave shoes filled with hay and carrots outside the door to help him on his journey. It may well be that the shoes filled with food for Odin's white horse on December 21 were soon waiting for a different visitor--one who had a white beard and a white horse, donkey, or reindeer--on December 6, St. Nicholas Day.
Nicholas brought not only gifts, but also an ounce or two of discipline. The unpleasant tasks were often delegated to a companion. Rupert, Knecht Ruprecht, Swarte Pieter (Black Peter), Krampus, or some other figure bearing a birch rod often accompanied Nicholas on his journey, much to the chagrin of all the "bad children."
With the dawn of the Protestant Reformation in the mid-1500s, Nicholas's visits came to be frowned upon as a form of saint worship. While the tradition survived in some places, in others Nicholas changed his clothing, his name, and his date of arrival. He became variously known as Weihnachtsmann (Christmas Man), Pere Noel, and Pelze Nicol (fur Nicholas), assistant to Christkindl.
Nicholas Comes to North America
Exactly how Nicholas traveled to North America remains unknown. Certainly, he came as the patron saint of sailors. Some historians say that, in addition, Dutch--and later, German--settlers brought their Sinta Claes to the melting pot of the New World. Others believe the tradition may have fallen into disuse until Santa's image was resurrected in the early 1800s by the New York Historical Society as a tribute to the Dutch heritage of the state, and as a slap at the British.
The print media played an important role as well. Washington Irving's popular satire A History of New York from the Beginning of the World to the End of the Dutch Dynasty, first published in 1809, depicted Saint Nicholas as a guide appearing in visions to early Dutch settlers. Later editions described the yearly visits of a Nicholas dressed in Flemish attire, driving a flying horse and wagon, and dropping presents down chimneys into stockings. His companion, Black Peter, had apparently missed the boat for New Amsterdam!
In 1822, Clement Clarke Moore, a language professor at a theological seminary, solidified the image of Santa we hold today in a poem written for the enjoyment of his family. Entitled "A Visit from St. Nicholas," the verse opens with the now well-loved line "'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house...."
Thomas Nast, a Bavarian-born political cartoonist, helped bring Santa into visual focus. Once each year from 1863 until 1886, he drew a new picture of Santa Claus for either Harper's Bazaar or Harper's Weekly. Nast's drawings of Santa--elfin and rotund--still appear on Christmas cards. And over the years, he has acquired a workshop, a North Pole residence, even a telephone.
Contemporary portrayals of Nicholas as a jolly gift giver range far from his origins as a kindly bishop--so much so that scholars today question whether he ever existed. Some religious authorities do too. In fact, in 1969, the Roman Catholic Church removed St. Nicholas Day from the calendar of obligatory feast days.
Still, the Nicholas legend lives on. One reason may be that Saint Nicholas has an uncanny way of taking up the cultural aspirations of the people who honor him. In Greece, no ship is launched without prayers offered for his protection. In Germany, he has been very exacting about behavior. Here, he set up headquarters at the North Pole just as the first polar explorations were beginning. And Rudolph, the "ugly duckling" reindeer who made good, appeared at the end of the Great Depression.
Our jolly old Saint Nicholas reflects our culture to a T, for he is fanciful, exuberant, bountiful, over-weight, and highly commercial. He also mirrors some of our highest ideals: childhood purity and innocence, selfless giving, unfaltering love, justice, and mercy. (What child has ever received a coal for Christmas?) The problem is that, in the process, he has become burdened with some of society's greatest challenges: materialism, corporate greed, and domination by the media. Here, Santa carries more in his baggage than toys alone!
Santa's Place in Hearth and Home
Sure, Santa's dark trappings offend us. We are parents trying to create a new and truer path for ourselves and our families. We deplore commercialism. We oppose a culture dictated by the media. And deep down, we know Christmas is more than the elaborate gift-giving ritual it has become.
So what are we to do? Repulsed by the window dressings that surround Santa Claus, we could give up on him entirely. In rejecting him, though, we'd be missing out on our rightful part in a whimsical story, a bit of magic in the night. We'd be severing ties with one of the few mythical figures who has survived our melting pot of traditions. And we'd be forfeiting the certainty and sense of community that come in knowing that every Christmas Eve, Santa Claus will come to us, along with so many others. Let us not "throw the baby out with the bathwater." Instead, let us discard Santa's needless baggage and take up his magic for ourselves and our children.
Here is what happened in our family. The children's father and I had done "the Santa thing" half-heartedly, all the while telling the truth about his existence whenever the questions surfaced. Yes, our children knew there was no "real" Santa. Even so, when we moved into a new home, our three- and five-year-old sons dashed to the attic to figure out how Santa could get into our house without a fireplace. Curious that they were thinking of Santa in July, and that he was their first thought amid the excitement of the move, I flashed on a discovery: Santa Claus must be something deeper than a commercially created character.
Then and there, we decided to embrace the North American Santa lengend--in a special sort of way. We take the focus off the Christmas Day extravaganza by cultivating Advent, celebrating a European-style visit from Saint Nicholas on the eve of December 6, and holding a 12th Day of Christmas party, complete with wax pouring, taffy pulling, and old-fashioned games. Come Christmas, we keep our observance simple, so that the small presents Santa places in the stockings become meaningful, and not lost in a mountain of "stuff."
In the days before Christmas, we find great joy in Moore's poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas." The story is simple, and poignant. While the household is asleep, the father hears a noise outside and, going to check it out, is blessed with a magical surprise: the elusive, invisible Santa Claus has come to visit! To whom does he appear? Not to the children who believe in him and await him. No, the mythical figure of merriment and giving appears to the father, the adult, who can only stare in wonder and laugh in delight. As he puts it, "St. Nick... soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread." In other words, Santa comes to adults in the midst of their responsibilities, takes away their fears, and draws out the child in them.
Personally, I need that Santa quality in my life. Far more compelling than the history of his origins that stimulates my intellect, and the critique of his shortcomings that engages my social consciousness, is my strong inner feeling: I want Santa Claus for my children, and I want him for me.
Coffin, Tristram P. The Book of Christmas Folklore. New York: Seabury Press, 1973. Ebon, Martin. St. Nicholas: Life and Legend. New York: Harper & Row, 1975. Giblin, James Cross. The Truth about Santa Claus. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1985. Jones, E. Willis. The Santa Claus Book. New York: Walker & Company, 1976. Robinson, Jo, and Jean Coppock Staeheli. Unplug the Christmas Machine. New York: Quill, 1982.
COPYRIGHT 1992 Mothering Magazine
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