I recently enjoyed the documentary Becoming Santa, which follows a middle-aged Los Angeles man who has been sad around Christmas ever since his “Christmas-fanatic” mother died. Hoping to regain the Christmas spirit, he decides to bleach his beard, get expert training, and become a professional Santa for one season. Journeying into the world of professional Santas, the film paints a surprisingly heartwarming picture of people the protagonist describes as having been given permission to “lie to children.” I was surprised how strongly many of them believe in the spirit of Santa Claus and see it as a way to serve their community.
While the film gave me a fresh appreciation for the love and wonder expressed even in the midst of, and by means of, my culture’s very commercial and secular version of Christmas, it also pointed back to the history and legends surrounding the original “Santa Claus,” Saint Nicholas, the 4th Century Bishop of Myra, who is believed to have been orphaned but have inherited a large fortune which he liked to share anonymously with those in need.
The story of Saint Nicholas just wouldn’t work well as a children’s cartoon:
No one today is telling their kids, “Santa Claus is coming to town! Santa is magical, he throws gold through the window in the middle of the night to poor girls so they don’t have to become prostitutes!” That would be shocking, and probably not very age-appropriate.
But that is one of the most prominent stories about Saint Nicholas. He wasn’t some kind of Northern European parental watchdog waiting to reward good boys and girls with their chosen toys, and leave coal in the stockings of the bad ones (surprising, perhaps, given he was a Church official). He instead was first remembered as someone who used the abundance he had (and reputedly his miraculous spiritual gifts) to give poor children joy, and to rescue girls from lives of prostitution or servitude, and to help famished communities survive, and (in a particularly grisly story) to bring butchered children back to life before they could be cannibalized by the hungry.
The original legends come from a time when matters of life and death, survival and starvation, were certainly more stark and obvious in the Western world than they are today. But the thing that stands out most is that Nicholas is remembered as using his wealth to bring justice and joy to those most in need, rather than just rewarding the “good” children with expensive toys.
I see the spirit of Santa in the hard-working, red-suited men for whom the film gave me fresh appreciation. But I see it even more so in those who help those who are starving, or in need, or enslaved. Perhaps most of all those who help those who aren’t usually seen by society as “good boys and girls,” like the sex trafficking and bonded labor victims given new opportunities by my friends at places like the Protect Project, IJM, and the Nomi Network, and the children and families given increased opportunities by organizations like World Vision, Global Humanitaria, and Save the Children.
The original Santa: Less toy fairy, more social-justice philanthropist
I recently enjoyed the documentary Becoming Santa, which follows a middle-aged Los Angeles man who has been sad around Christmas ever since his “Christmas-fanatic” mother died. Hoping to regain the Christmas spirit, he decides to bleach his beard, get expert training, and become a professional Santa for one season. Journeying into the world of professional Santas, the film paints a surprisingly heartwarming picture of people the protagonist describes as having been given permission to “lie to children.” I was surprised how strongly many of them believe in the spirit of Santa Claus and see it as a way to serve their community.
While the film gave me a fresh appreciation for the love and wonder expressed even in the midst of, and by means of, my culture’s very commercial and secular version of Christmas, it also pointed back to the history and legends surrounding the original “Santa Claus,” Saint Nicholas, the 4th Century Bishop of Myra, who is believed to have been orphaned but have inherited a large fortune which he liked to share anonymously with those in need.
The story of Saint Nicholas just wouldn’t work well as a children’s cartoon:
No one today is telling their kids, “Santa Claus is coming to town! Santa is magical, he throws gold through the window in the middle of the night to poor girls so they don’t have to become prostitutes!” That would be shocking, and probably not very age-appropriate.
But that is one of the most prominent stories about Saint Nicholas. He wasn’t some kind of Northern European parental watchdog waiting to reward good boys and girls with their chosen toys, and leave coal in the stockings of the bad ones (surprising, perhaps, given he was a Church official). He instead was first remembered as someone who used the abundance he had (and reputedly his miraculous spiritual gifts) to give poor children joy, and to rescue girls from lives of prostitution or servitude, and to help famished communities survive, and (in a particularly grisly story) to bring butchered children back to life before they could be cannibalized by the hungry.
The original legends come from a time when matters of life and death, survival and starvation, were certainly more stark and obvious in the Western world than they are today. But the thing that stands out most is that Nicholas is remembered as using his wealth to bring justice and joy to those most in need, rather than just rewarding the “good” children with expensive toys.
I see the spirit of Santa in the hard-working, red-suited men for whom the film gave me fresh appreciation. But I see it even more so in those who help those who are starving, or in need, or enslaved. Perhaps most of all those who help those who aren’t usually seen by society as “good boys and girls,” like the sex trafficking and bonded labor victims given new opportunities by my friends at places like the Protect Project, IJM, and the Nomi Network, and the children and families given increased opportunities by organizations like World Vision, Global Humanitaria, and Save the Children.
Becoming Santa