Reflections on Santa – Rated PG
December 20, 2009
The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
Before I begin, I want to make sure that everyone here understands the “rating” of my sermon this morning. I don’t usually rate my sermons; but today’s is rated Parental (or grandparental) Guidance, not because of any language or violent imagery, but because any young believers would be better off in class this morning. I do not want to be the cause of their unbelief!
For several years I have tried to convince my dear granddaughter – now age 13 – to watch the movie Miracle on 34th Street with me, because it’s my favorite Christmas movie; but she’s never been willing to do it until this year. A little over a week ago, for some reason – a “miracle” perhaps! –she acquiesced and watched it with me; and to her surprise, she loved it! (How could she not?!)
If you’ve seen the film – either the 1947 original or one of its re-makes, you remember that it’s the story of a man hired at Macy’s to play the part of Santa Claus in their annual Christmas parade when the one they first hired is falling-down drunk. The new one is so good, that he’s kept on as the store Santa for the season. But unlike any of the Santas they’ve hired in the past, this one actually insists he’s the real thing. When asked his name, he replies, “Kris Kringle;” and when asked where he lives, he says “the North Pole” (though currently he’s staying at a home for seniors).
It’s the story of a little girl who’s been taught to only believe that which can be proven, and that to use her imagination is a waste of time.
It’s a story of adults who struggle with the conflicts between hope and cynicism, faith and fear. It touches us because we all want to believe in Santa Claus; we want to believe in this figure that spreads the profound message of universal love and good will.
And the movie is a plea against the commercialism of Christmas, demonstrated when Santa begins advising customers where they can find a toy for their child if Macy’s doesn’t have it; he even refers some to Macy’s archrival, Gimbal’s – a practice unheard of in the marketplace back then; and I doubt that Macy’s is doing that today either! In the film, Santa could care less about whether the merchants turn a profit; all he cares about is that the children – and some adults – are happy.
Almost two decades before the release of that movie, the first commercial use of Santa Claus was seen when the Coca Cola Company portrayed him drinking a Coke. Since then, Santa’s become a merchant’s best friend – selling just about everything possible – including cigarettes – and completely ignoring what he originally stood for.
In the book, Chrismukkah, Ron Gompertz writes: “No matter how sincere Santa’s merry motives may be, his message ‘Be good for goodness’ sake’ has been undermined by his own willingness to be co-opted, exploited and crassly commercialized. Nick’s saintly reputation has been compromised by overexposure in the malls and magazines, his credibility bought and paid for by corporations and big-box retailers.”
One man in San Luis Obispo is protesting such commercialization this year by creating what some have called a “tasteless” display in his yard: A full-sized figure of Jesus holding a rifle, with Santa lying dead on the ground, apparently a victim of Jesus’ rage over the misuse of his birthday celebration. Tasteless perhaps; but certainly to the point.
Making a similar point but in a lighter vein, an old “Calvin & Hobbes” comic strip has one of them – I don’t remember whether Calvin or Hobbes – saying to the other, “How touching to have the meaning of Christmas brought to us by colas, fast food, and beer….Who’d have ever guessed that product consumption, popular entertainment, and spirituality would mix so harmoniously?” J
Santa Claus wasn’t always an ad man. The most ancient manifestation of him was probably a pre-Christian Germanic god named Wodin or Odin, who was said to fly through the sky every year at the Yule celebration, leading a party of hunters. He had a long beard, and rode an eight-legged horse that could jump over great distances. (Interesting, isn’t it, that Santa has eight reindeer?!)
Children would put their boots near the chimney, filling them with carrots, straw or sugar for Odin’s horse. And in return, Odin would place candy or little gifts in the boots for the children.
After Christianity pushed the Pagan traditions underground, the figure of Odin was re-born in that of Saint Nicholas – the major difference being that Nicholas was a real person! Before being canonized as a saint, Nicholas was a bishop in the church, and was known for secretly leaving coins or small gifts in children’s shoes that had been left out for him. He became the patron saint of sailors, merchants, archers and children, and his celebration falls on December 6th, the date of his birth.
There are numerous stories about St. Nicholas. One story tells of a man who had three daughters, but who was too poor to afford a proper dowry for any of them. In those days this meant that they wouldn’t be able to get married, and would have to support themselves through prostitution.
It is said that St. Nicholas went to the man’s house one night and threw three purses filled with gold coins through the window so that the daughters could have a decent life.
There are several variations on this story which tie in with some aspects of the modern story of Santa Claus: One is that St. Nick drops the third bag of coins down the man’s chimney; and another, more common variation, is that he dropped all three bags down the chimney, and the daughters had washed their stockings that night and hung them to dry over the fireplace embers, thus catching the coins in their stockings!
In some countries like the Netherlands and Belgium, St. Nicholas was called Sinterklaas, whose celebration falls on the eve of St. Nick’s birthday, or December 5th. It was originally an occasion to help the poor by putting money in their shoes. Eventually this practice evolved into putting toys into the shoes of all children, not only those who were poor.
In later versions of the story, Sinterklaas dropped the toys through the chimneys, just as the pagan god Odin did, just as St. Nicholas did with the gold coins; and just as Santa Claus does today. Sinterklaas also rode a white horse onto the roofs of the houses. In addition to wearing the bishop’s long red cape and red mitre (or hat), Sinterklaas was said to carry a large book with information on every child’s behavior during the past year – who had been “naughty or nice.”
Indeed, several of the old stories differentiate between those who have been good and those who haven’t – the latter often receiving coal, bitter chocolate, or potatoes instead of gifts. This would account for the little pillow I gave my daughter one year, which read, “Santa, I can explain!”
The image of Santa’s elves may have begun with Sinterklaas, as there’s a story about three Moorish boys sentenced to death for a crime they didn’t commit. Sinterklaas intervened and saved their lives, and out of gratitude, the boys stayed with him and helped him deliver presents to all the children. They would apparently scramble onto the rooftops and make quite a racket. They were called the “Black Petes,” or “Zwarte Piet” – perhaps because they were Moors, or possibly because they were chimneysweeps and covered with soot.
The image of an old man who shared kindness and abundance with children has been manifested with a variety of other names throughout the world – Father or Grandfather Christmas, Grandfather Winter, Father or Grandfather Frost, Christmas Old Man, Tomten, Papa Noel (who climbed balconies instead of chimneys), and even the Yule Goat.
But where have been the female images of generosity? Surely they couldn’t all be men! I did have a children’s book about a Russian woman named Baboushka, but I couldn’t find information about her anywhere beyond the book – until I came across the story of an Italian woman named La Befana, whose story was almost identical to that of Baboushka, only in a different country.
The story is that the three Wise Men lose their way while following the star to Bethlehem, and they stop at Baboushka’s house (or La Befana’s) for directions. (This alone would be proof that it’s a myth, right?) They then ask the woman to come with them and guide them to the child.
But she declines, choosing instead to stay home and finish cleaning her house. After the kings leave, however, she regrets her decision, and decides to go after them. Sadly, she never finds them, and the story says that every year at this time, she wanders the earth looking for the child, and leaving small gifts for all the children along the way.
One addition in the story of La Befana is that she also cleans the houses after leaving her presents. (I’m hoping she shows up soon at my house!) And the families leave a glass of wine and a plate of snacks for her – a slight variation of the cookies and milk children leave for Santa Claus. (I wonder if the gifts from him would be any different, especially by the end of his route, if we left wine for Santa instead? Hmmm….)
So it’s easy to see how all those images and myths came together to create the figure we know as Santa Claus here in America. But unlike the commercialism of Santa, all of these earlier manifestations remained, basically, a humble figure who cared about the children, especially those who were poor, and who took great pleasure in bringing some comfort and joy to their lives, some light in the darkness of winter. And contrary to a British Medical Journal article this week chastising Santa – somewhat tongue-in-cheek but not entirely – for setting a bad example for children with his overweight body and risky behavior, those early Santas modeled the kindness and devotion that we try to teach our children.
Of course, being primarily an American concoction, Santa Claus has led to some interesting variations in this country beyond his commercial venture. In the 1950s, Jewish parents wanted an alternative to Santa Claus for their children; so Hanukkah Harry was created. Again according to Ron Gompertz, some parents even arranged for chimney drops from “Uncle Harry, the Hanukkah Man.”
And Gompertz has imagined a wonderfully clever story called “When Harry Met Sally,” in which Hanukkah Harry’s wife dies from Alzheimer’s around the same time that Sally Claus discovers that her husband, Santa, has been cheating on her, so she divorces him. (If the recent phenomenon with Tiger Woods is any indication, I imagine Santa would begin losing much of his commercial contracts as a result!) Sally and Hanukkah Harry then discover each other through on-line dating; they meet and find they have much in common, “even though,” Gompertz writes, “they (are) polar opposites….They decide to team up in business…. Each year, the two of them set out on their cruise around the world, visiting the homes of millions of children and bringing light and cheer to every place they (go). Theirs (is) a match made in heaven, and they live happily ever after.”
So, through humor and the expansion of Santa Claus into a Jewish counterpart, we come back to the original meaning of the character: Compassion, Generosity, and Gratitude. We are reminded that the real meaning behind the giving and receiving of gifts during this season – whether celebrating Hanukkah, Solstice, Christmas or Kwanzaa – is that life is filled with blessings, even in the darkest of times; that we are further blessed when we give of ourselves to others, and care for the most vulnerable of our communities; and, as an Episcopal priest told her congregation recently, we are each the most important gift of all.
My favorite scene in Miracle on 34th Street comes at the end – no doubt the schmalziest of all the scenes, when the little girl – who’s lost faith that Kris Kringel is really Santa Claus – is riding in the car with her mother and her mother’s boyfriend, both of whom do now believe in the man, and have told the child she needs to believe as well. It’s Christmas Day, and the girl hasn’t received the one gift she’d asked Kris for – a beautiful home for her and her mother.
As they drive through a residential neighborhood, the girl quietly repeats over and over to herself, “I believe, I believe” – but we know she really doesn’t. Suddenly she sees the exact house she’d been asking for, and wouldn’t you know, there’s a “For Sale” sign out front. When the three enter the house (the door just happens to be unlocked!), they are startled to see Kris Kringle’s cane propped in a corner. And that’s how the movie ends.
I first watched the movie on television with my parents, when I was about 10 or 12 years old; I hadn’t believed in Santa Claus for quite some time. But after the movie ended I turned to my father, and I said, “So…does this mean there is a Santa Claus?” (My kids do accuse me of being gullible!)
My dad just smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I dunno!”
The real question, of course, isn’t whether Santa exists; we know the answer to that. The real question is: Does love and compassion and hope exist? Can we hear the whisper of it amidst all the noise and the fear of the world?
And when I look out at all of you; when I see your concern for one another, your compassion towards those in our community who are in need, your commitment to justice – in other words, your embodiment of our Unitarian Universalist Faith – I know that the answer is yes. Love and compassion and hope radiate through each of us; the true meaning behind the stories of Santa and of the season, comes alive in our actions – not only during this season of giving, but throughout the year.
That is the wonder and the miracle of this time. May it always be so. Amen.
© 2010 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
