Santa Claus, where are you from?

Where did this Santa Claus come from?

Not from the New England settlers. The Puritans banned any kind of festivities on Christmas – too “Catholic,” they said, and you know that leads to idol worship. In his journal, Thomas Jones, master of the Mayflower, indicates that Dec. 25, 1620 was just another work day.

“There was no rest or festivity for them, not even to celebrate their safe arrival in the New World,” says a modern observer who helped gather enough Christmas data to fill a 300-page almanac.

Many of the descendents of 17th century Puritans still throttle discussion of fat little men in red dropping in on Christmas Eve. Dropping, by way of….um, chimneys.

Nice to learn that it was in the warm, gracious South that the celebration of Christmas was not merely permitted but encouraged. In Jamestown, Virginia, in 1607, 40 survivors of the original 100 settlers are thought to be the first to celebrate Christmas in the New World.

Most of the myths and legends that eventually melded into S. Claus as we know him had a grain of truth to them.

Nearly every culture has its version of a stern but loving benefactor of children. Perhaps the oldest was Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea and of horses, to whom frightened sailors prayed when confronted with heavy seas. The white tops of crashing waves looked enough like the god’s white horses that the seamen would beg Poseidon to help them. Kindly soul that he was, he did.

A story circulating in Asia Minor told of a benevolent bishop of Myra. His name was Nicholas and he had built his church on a promontory over the sea on the site of a temple of Poseidon. Rumor held that the bishop had all the good characteristics of Poseidon and then some. He went about on a white horse, wearing bishop’s red, and giving anonymous gifts by night. (I thought cardinals wore red.)

Stories of this character circulated throughout Europe, and while his name varied from language to language, the gifts he brought and his modus operandi – dressed in red and riding a white steed – remained pretty much the same.

When Europeans began new lives in the New World, they brought their Christmas stories with them, including their families’ name for St. Nicholas, Father Christmas, Kris Kringle, Sinterklaas. That last, the name the Dutch called him, no doubt morphed into Santa Claus as speakers of English wrestled with Sinterklaas, and English became the lingua franca of North America.

Stories of St. Nick’s generosity abound. One of the most enduring was about a man who was raising three daughters after his wife died, and found it was all he could do to keep them fed and clothed, much less endowed to be married. The poor man was about to send his girls into the streets to earn their living the old-fashioned way, when St. Nicholas heard about his plight.

Under cover of darkness, the good saint, still on horseback, tossed three sacks of gold coins over the garden wall. Some say they went down the chimney and fell into the girls’ stockings drying by the fire.

In 1822 Dr. Clement C. Moore of Manhattan wrote a poem to amuse his children in the long dark nights leading up to Christmas Eve, and called it “A Visit from St. Nicholas.” A friend persuaded Moore to let him publish it, and it was an instant hit with children everywhere.

Moore put Santa in a sleigh drawn by reindeer but I have not discovered, why reindeer? Eight reindeer. Eight tiny reindeer.

Many artists and illustrators gave form to the good saint as they or their children “saw” him. But not until 1863 did Thomas Nast create the droll little mouth, the little round belly, the broad face and twinkling eyes based on Moore’s description, and it was so endearing that the old gent will always be seen thus.

(Incidentally, Nast introduced two other animal characters who are at least as well known as the reindeer. Think outside the reindeer box. Give up? The Republican elephant and the Democratic donkey. Hmmm.)

Now we come to the biggest question of all involving Santa Claus: What to say when asked in the presence of children, “Do you believe there is really a little fat guy who flies around the world in one night in a sleigh drawn by reindeer, dropping presents down chimneys for good girls and boys?”

Well, I don’t like the good saint’s generosity being tied to kids’ behavior. Christmas is about grace, not law. But do I think he’s real? Absolutely. Can I prove it? No. Can I prove that I love my children, my friends?

Santa Claus is one of God’s many helpers, I’ll tell my grandchildren. God has given us so many gifts, and One Gift above all. God wants us to give gifts to others, tokens of love, especially to those who are poor or sick or the victims of war. We’ve seen soldiers of the Salvation Army helping to give gifts, we’ve seen Santa Claus taking Christmas lists, we’ve seen ordinary moms and dads trying to choose the perfect gifts for each other and for their children.

That’s love. We can’t see it, we can’t touch it, but we know it’s there.

Yes, I believe in Santa Claus, and I’m grateful to be part of his vast company of saints and sinners. Merry Christmas to you all.

Source for most of the above factoids: The Great American Christmas Almanac, pub. 1988.