A couple weeks ago, my nine-year-old daughter approached my wife with grave seriousness. The two went upstairs to our bedroom so my daughter could be ensured privacy as she opened up about something that had been weighing heavily on her heart.
“Sometimes I think Santa isn’t real. I don’t understand why he doesn’t get gifts for you and dad.”
And so began “the talk.”
In our house, we’ve never attempted to make an airtight case for Santa Claus. We mostly asked questions and allowed our kids to navigate it and come to their own conclusions.
The Santa bubble was burst many years ago for my son, but since then even he has allowed his sister to navigate it herself. I’ll never forget the year a Wii showed up under the tree. In his exuberant excitement, my son jumped over to me to say thanks, but he quickly caught himself. Not wanting to devastate his sister’s understanding of Santa, he made sure his back was to her and quietly mouthed “Thank you.”
Over the last year or so, my daughter started piecing things together. Boxes in the basement from Amazon that are strangely similar in size and shape to presents under the tree. Catalogs showing up in the mail shortly after Christmas from companies whose products had shown up on Christmas morning.
And the list goes on.
In short, the reality of what my daughter was experiencing didn’t match up with her understanding of Santa Claus.
My daughter went on to talk about the conflict she was faced with because some of her friends do believe in Santa Claus and some don’t. My wife’s response was brilliant – something I would never have thought of and one small example of why she’s amazing. I was intrigued as she relayed the story.
“Your friends who don’t believe in Santa Claus? They’re right.”
My heart sank a bit.
“And your friends who do believe in Santa Claus? They’re right, too.”
My face contorted in a bit of confusion.
“There was a man named St. Nicholas who lived a very long time ago and who was very generous…”
A very brief explanation followed of how a real man with a reputation of being very generous eventually morphed into a man who flies through the skies in a sleigh pulled by reindeer to deliver presents to children across the globe.
My daughter was surprisingly content with the whole thing, now able to embrace the truth and spirit of what it all stands for without having to wrestle through the fact that her experiences – and her ever-maturing gut instincts – don’t line up with what’s “supposed” to be true.
I can’t imagine how things would ultimately shake out if we told our daughter that she needed to defend her position or attempt to show others with differing ideas why they’re wrong. Or if we told her that she needed to hold unwaveringly to a belief in flying reindeer. Or if she felt the need to put her friendships on the line by drawing lines in the sand.
I can’t help but reflect on the parallels to my years in the evangelical world, where positions are defended, beliefs do need to be unwavering, and lines are drawn in the sand.
As I sit here across the room from a beautifully decorated Christmas tree with nicely wrapped packages around it, I think about the birth of Jesus. I think about his radical teachings about God, inclusion, and unconditional love, all of which challenged the religious system of the day.
And then I think about the modern institution of Christianity and how the core message of Jesus is often enveloped in so much dogma that many people feel suffocated.
And I desperately wish the church would get better at loosening the grip, allowing people to breathe, and trusting that things are going to be okay.
Tonight, for the first time in many years, my wife and I won’t be putting milk and cookies out for Santa or a carrot out for the reindeer. It might be a little sad that our daughter no longer believes in Santa, but our experience of Christmas will be no less rich and meaningful.
