Reflection on the Gift for Giving
“And the stockings
were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be
there” so The Night Before Christmas goes.
Santa Claus was a very real part of
celebrating Christmas in my home. We put out cookies and milk for him. When I
was older I discovered the red Santa suit and white beard in my mother’s
closet. It was a horrible discovery but it did explain a few things like why my
father was always missing when Santa came out of the lit fireplace or why he
wore army boots. As time passed the
thrill of being woken up at midnight in red pajamas to catch a glimpse of the thinnish jolly man passed and I started putting two and two
together---Santa’s handwriting looked very much like the tooth fairy’s and the
Easter Bunny’s and my mother’s. I was a
smart child even though there was a sign in front of our house that said Slow Children, Drive Carefully. How
could Santa come from a lit fireplace and not get burned?
But for few magical years, his appearance with the toys I
had marked in the Sears Catalogue made me a believer. And the hoofs on the roof
(my father’s army boots) completed the fantasy. One year I could have sworn I even
saw him dash away with all the reindeer against the full moon just like in the
movies.
So Santa Claus was real or more real than God being born in
a barn as a baby. And every year we listened to the story of The Night Before Christmas just to
remind us that he was going to come if were nice and not naughty. As I got
older and could handle other stories, my mother read from another book, an
illustrated book of Christmas stories from around the world which included a
story about a witch from Italy and a certain kind hearted bishop who wore red
and threw bags of gold into the window of three sisters because they did not
have enough money for a dowry to get married. I didn’t know what a dowry was or
why they needed it to get married or even why they would want to marry if they
had to pay for it but I did get the point that he was very kind.
Once it was clear to
my mother that I was no longer a believer in Santa Claus, too many improbable
facts including the suit and beard, my mother told me that the real Santa Claus
was this good bishop in the long red coat and that he really did exist at one
time. She explained that we remember him when we give gifts to each other, when
we eat candy canes, his staff, or when we devour the gold coins of chocolate in
our stockings. So while my friends felt sad about losing their faith in Santa
Claus I just moved on to a new understanding about the importance and
relationship between charity and gift giving.
When I was an adult and creating my own Christmas rituals
for my daughter I collected figurines of St. Nicholas and Santa Claus (also
snow people but that is another story) and proudly displayed them along side my
many crèches.
The story of God with
us is not diminished or replaced by this man with a gift for giving.
So fast forward to 2013 and I am in the Holy Land for
Christmas, the place where Jesus was born, and I am all into the Bethlehem
scene and celebrating the holy birth. I go to the Church of the Nativity and
see the Tree lit on Manger Square. I sing O Little Town of Bethlehem with gusto
and sadness as I now see it surrounded by settlements and hymned in by a Wall.
I also have become acutely aware of how Herod still reigns terror on innocent
children and why we all should take another way home.
But this year, 2014, I discovered that Santa Claus is from
Beit Jala or rather St. Nicholas is from this lovely mostly Christian town just
outside of Bethlehem. He is the patron
saint of the town and the Greek Orthodox church now stands above the cave where
he is said to have lived in during the third century (312-315) when he pilgrimmaged
here. Legend has it that he chose this hilltop cave because it had a direct
view of the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem just a few kilometers away.
What a thrill then to visit his cave and see the many icons
in his name, to pay tribute to this saint and childhood hero who kept the
spirit of giving and Christmas alive for me.
His feast day on December 19TH is a festival of joy for all
Christians, especially the children. It is a day of worship up at St. Nicholas
Church followed by a procession of scouts and their bagpipes, children with
balloons through the narrow streets of Beit Jala.
But there is more to this somewhat stern looking saint then
his acts of kindness or generosity. He is also known as a defender and
protector. For example, during WWI and WWII it is said that he stretched out
his arms and protected the village. Then
later in 1948 it is reported that he caught the bombs in the air which kept the
village safe. And everyone remembers the drought and how after praying for rain
it poured. He was not only generous but a miracle worker.
I personally like the
following story because St. Nicholas himself at one time was a political
prisoner under Roman occupation. His compassion comes out of his own suffering.
An elderly Muslim man was deeply worried about
his son who had been in an Israeli prison for some years. During the night
before the man's birthday, an old man appeared at his
bedside, telling him his son would return on the next day. When the man
asked the visitor who he was and where he was from, he answered, "I am
Nicholas, from Beit Jala. If you need to find me, just ask for me, everyone
knows me there." The following day, the son returned. The old man set off
for Beit Jala to share the good news with the stranger, and to thank him.
Confused by the story, no one in Beit Jala could tell him who had visited him.
Then the sacristan took the man into the
Church of St. Nicholas, where he immediately recognized the icon of St Nicholas
as the person who had visited him.
Often in my Advent and Christmas reflections I
focus on the risk of giving birth or being midwives helping birth something new
or on the very present reality of the slaughter of the innocents and of course
Mary and her song of revolution or how we make prepare the way by walking its
twisted paths with our crooked hearts.
St. Nicholas comes back to me this year as a
reminder that the point about gifting is giving or providing something the
other really needs or wants. It is about stopping violence, showing up with
your arms spread wide to protect those you love, delivering life giving water,
and offering freedom to the captive. And as the good people of Bethlehem also
know it is about justice, about asking for it and giving it.
Dear Santa, formerly known as St.
Nicholas, please bring us these gifts and show us how to be gifts of love,
peace, and freedom to each other.
Wonderful resource:
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