Each Christmas season, I am boggled by the great lengths people go to to “prove” the existence of Santa Claus. Everyone over the age of 8 knows he isn’t real. The closest you can honestly come to saying he actually exists is that he is the embodiment of the spirit of good will and generousity. Except for the fact that there is no actual embodiment. He’s a symbol, a phantasm, an imaginary figure. No matter how rooted in fact the legends of his origins are, the simple truth is no such person exists. There are no flying reindeer. Santa Claus is a lie, and every year we try to convince someone, somewhere, of something we don’t really believe ourselves.
The above picture is from the NORAD Tracks Santa website. Someone running that site actually generates fake weather satellite tracking information based on a fictional guess at where Santa would be if he really was flying around delivering gifts. There are movies that start out with the premise of someone doubting the existence of Santa, but in the end are convinced he is real – Miracle on 34th Street is probably the most famous, and Polar Express is a more contemporary example. Such films seem to go as far as to say, “If you don’t believe in Santa (even though none of us really do), there must be something wrong with you.”
I think perhaps the problem is on the other side. I can appreciate the joy and fun in a fantasy figure, and I begrudge no one that. But there comes a time when you you wink and nod, and go back to reality. Can it really be healthy to tell children, year after year, that Santa exists, when you know they are eventually going to discover you lied to them?
I like the way my parents handled the Santa story. They explained to us in no uncertain terms that Santa was just fun make-believe. And we had lots of fun with it. My brother and I used to pretend we heard reindeer on the roof. We knew there weren’t any, but it was fun. When the presents were unwrapped, most of them were labeled “from Mom and Dad,” or whatever relative or person gave the gift. But Dad always snuck in a few that said “from Santa,” and acted surprised to see them. None of us believed for a moment that it wasn’t just another present from Dad, but we played along. But more importantly, when we got old enough that such games were no longer entertaining to us, we weren’t gravely disappointed and angry at being lied to in our tender years. We remember those times fondly, and for us, the spirit of good will and generousity really was there.