In a few weeks our city will host the annual Christmas parade, the kind of small-town tradition childhood memories are made of—hot chocolate, giant chocolate bars from the local candy factory, and best of all, Santa Claus! Typically Santa comes riding down the snowy streets on a float (some years, the bed of a truck) to the cheers of girls and boys—including my own.
But my kids don’t believe in Santa Claus. So why are they cheering?
Because we’ve structured our Christmas around the Advent of Christ, and Santa—to them—is an endearing fairy tale based on the true story of Saint Nicholas. They love him, but not because they think he’s tracking their behavior and giving them gifts. They love him because he’s a fairy tale come to life, much like seeing Elsa from Frozen in a local parade.
Like Halloween, Christmas is hotly debated by Christians, some eagerly replicating their childhood memories and others swearing Santa is an anagram for “Satan.” (P.S. It’s not; it’s another word for “saint.” Saint Nicholas → Saint Niklaus → Santa ‘Claus). In between there are believers in Christ who seek to combine their faith in Jesus with observance of Santa, and other groups of Christians who don’t teach that Santa is real at all—but don’t go so far as to compare him to Lucifer!
I grew up in a family that didn’t observe Santa as real. Sure, my mom had Santa decor and we made Santa ornaments, but we were never taught that Santa was coming down the chimney and didn’t put cookies out for anyone but ourselves! We knew our parents gave us our presents and this was a source of great bonding for us. Most importantly, not doing Santa had zero impact on the “magic” of the holiday. The magic was in the memories my parents made: cutting our own Christmas tree, getting a new ornament each year, making hot chocolate by the fire, reading dozens of Christmas books, watching fun Christmas movies—all while keeping Christ at the center.
