A) Call or text one friend I think will also enjoy it (or *gasp* save it til you see them in person).
B) Text a small group of friends who all might enjoy it.
C) Share it on closed social media with 100 people I “know” who might like or reply to it.
D) Share it on public social media where thousands of people may see it, like it, reply to it, and perhaps share it themselves with thousands of others—and echo on for eternity for all future mankind.

Option “A” is:

• the most work (gotta choose just one friend, exclude everyone else),
• has the most risk (what if they don’t like it, or others feel excluded), 
• with the least immediate reward (they may not reply for hours, or days…leaving my need for distraction still unfulfilled) 
• and has the smallest number of people to potentially appreciate or benefit from it.

Option “B” is: 

• slightly easier (oh, just send it to that whole group of friends), 
• has less risk anyone feels excluded, 
• increases the potential for a sooner reward (at least one of them will reply back soon to entertain me), 
• and there are now more people to appreciate and benefit from it.

Option “C” is:

• even easier because I just blast it to everyone I “know”, 
• has almost no risk of anyone feeling excluded, 
• within minutes somebody will have responded (giving my brain an immediate hit of dopamine), 
• and now most of my “social network” can appreciate it (i.e. appreciate me) and benefit from it.

Finally, option “D” is:

• easiest of all. It takes zero discernment (or exclusion) as to who should get it. 
• I’ve maximized how many responses/likes/views will be rolling down my screen, perhaps only seconds later, 
• therefore maximizing the amount of dopamine I will get,
• and all now with the added benefit of having hundreds of other strangers I’ve never met benefit from it and “like” me, too. Maybe get a few new followers. Shoot, it could even go viral and change the world.

So which do we choose? Far too often we choose option D. It’s far too easy and the potential upside too alluring. 

Which should we choose, however? Most of the time, the answer should be “A”. When it comes to happiness, great friends, and good quality relationships (a foundation for a good life), Option “A” is pure gold. Option “D” is dust in the wind. Furthermore, option D can even be destructive to our closest relationships—typically making each close friend you happened to include actually feel more distant from you (because you’re sharing this thing with them at the same level as relative strangers).

The same principle applies to inviting people to do something. We like to hide behind not wanting to “exclude” people, and our culture has decided “inclusivity” is an absolute good (it’s not—though it can be a wonderful and good thing, of course). But it is precisely in the exclusion of others that we are able to connect more intimately with those we did include.

When somebody thinks to invite or share something with specifically me (as opposed to just any ol’ somebody, or everybody), it means something special. It is more intimate. It is life giving. It strengthens and builds up the friendship.

Friendships aren’t built with groups (one-to-many), but rather between two individuals (one-to-one). That is why the modern preference for “one-to-many” communications is, on the whole, antithetical to deep, meaningful friendships. As it spoils what could have been a golden, intimate moment between two friends, and cheapens it into just one more thing for everyone.

So it’s no surprise that, as a reaction to all that, some have been tempted to throw Santa Claus right out and get back to the “reason for the season.” Additionally, a lot of people had parents who “did Santa” in a way that left them feeling lied to and now they aren’t quite sure how to pull it off with their own children. But in so many debates on this topic, it seems parents are struggling with a false set of choices: to either 1) lie to their kids about Santa or 2) just lay out the full “truth” about Santa all at once. I believe this is an unfortunate mistake.

First, there is no need to lie to your kids about Santa (in fact, you shouldn’t because lying is bad). Second, we should all believe in Santa. I think the fact that jolly ol’ Saint Nick has gotten roped into helping us celebrate Christmas is a wonderful opportunity we should not waste. Third, regardless of what you decide for your family, don’t beat yourself up about it. If you’re no longer having fun with it and are wondering whether you should lie about it or not, I think you’re asking the wrong question. I hope this essay helps.

So why do we tell our kids about this imaginary man in a sleigh anyway?

Well, I’ll tell you.

First, the story of Santa Claus is a Christian story. Hello! When told properly, it points to and emphasizes Jesus Christ. So, it’s actually one of the (fun) ways to “get back to the reason for the season.” And kids like fun.

Second, therefore, Santa Claus is not the problem. The commercialization of Christmas has victimized him as much as any of us. In fact, I’m pretty sure the real Santa Claus isn’t taking all of this too lightly, either.

Which brings me to my next point, Santa Claus is a real person. So it’s not a lie to say that Santa Claus is real. He has died, yes. But he’s not really dead. He’s alive in heaven, which means he’s more fully alive than any of us.

Santa Claus = Sinter Klaas = Sint Nikolaas = Saint Nicholas. Make it a lesson in linguistics for your kids. Santa means Saint. A Saint is someone who has lived a life of heroic virtue. A life worth mimicking. A life worth observing. A life worth learning from. A life that points to Christ.

Saint Nicholas was a 4th century bishop in the Church. And his spirit of giving and serving the poor is worth remembering by re-enacting (and imagining) his life and then learning from it. More importantly, the reason he served the poor and gave of himself so much is because he served Christ at the center of his life. And he did so with heroic enough virtue that we remember it thousands of years later. We are all called to live lives like that.

The point is that Santa can’t just be somebody we get stuff from.

He’s a kind of model for our life – just like every “Saint.” He’s somebody we can teach our kids to look at and say, “do you see how generous and giving he is? That’s what God calls us to be every day, and especially during this important religious season when we celebrate the greatest gift mankind has ever received, Jesus.”

The giving must be emphasized, not the receiving. But you can’t have one without the other! So the question for our family is, simply, which are we focused on? and therefore, what are our kids learning is most important? The giving…or the receiving?

And it’s okay if your 4 year old gets more excited about Santa than she does about baby Jesus. That probably means you have a healthy 4-year-old who can’t grasp the magnitude and deep theological significance of redemption, eternal salvation and God becoming a man. Even most adults struggle with it. Let’s not waste the opportunity because our kids think a jolly fat man in a red suit who flies around in a sleigh with magical reindeer giving gifts is more exciting than a baby in a manger.

We just have to make sure that as kids get older they continue to learn the depth of the Santa story as they are able. And how that jolly fat man who gives presents is not there to give us presents, but to show us how to give. And he’s not doing so because you’ve been good, he’s doing so because giving is what life is all about. And the most radical way that old Saint Nick lived this out was not with the gift of presents, but with the giving of his entire life to Jesus Christ and the way he lived it in service to Him. And, ultimately, that the greatest and most exciting gift we celebrate on Christmas is not under the tree, but in the manger.

So how do we tell the story without lying?

Personally, I think we should tell the Santa story to our children the same way we tell any great mythical story. Let them get all caught up in it. And then let them learn in time what is true about the story and what isn’t. What is important about the story and what isn’t. And more importantly, help them learn the deeper (and very real) truths contained within it. And along with that, of course, use it to help them understand the infinitely more significant and completely true story of Jesus.

Does that mean your kids might not buy the whole story – hook, line and sinker? Maybe. That’s fine. Let them question. But also let them wonder. A child’s wonder should be kindled to flame, not stamped out with the cold hard “facts” as quickly as possible.

Let them wonder.

Remember, the goal is certainly not to deceive our kids, it’s to tell a great story. Too many parents get this backwards. They get too caught up on trying to make their kids literally believe every bit of it. That’s not the point. And, for me, that can easily become lying, which is never good. Be honest with them, but don’t let the wrong details distract them.

Just look at the book of Genesis. If you read the story of creation and get caught up on whether everything was made in 6 literal days or not, you’re missing the whole point of the story. The writer didn’t feel the need to clarify certain questions of *fact* when telling that story. Does that mean they were lying or intending to deceive? Not at all. They were telling the better story and teaching a more important truth in the process.

I get it.

It’s a legitimate criticism that the story of Santa too often overshadows the story of Jesus. It’s so true. And that must be corrected. Yes, the feast of St. Nicholas on Dec. 6 should be the main time we celebrate Saint Nick. But the fact is that a feature of our culture, whether we like it or not, is that Santa helps us celebrate Christmas. We can co-opt and run with that, or we can opt out and waste a big opportunity. I think the former is what the Church has done repeatedly throughout history with much success.

Let the malls and the advertisements and the chatter and pictures of Santa be like the pages of a great story book come to life and we’re all characters! I think we’ll have more success reminding people of the reason for the season if we joyfully join in the drama rather than opt out.

Do we need more Jesus inserted into the mix? Absolutely. At every turn. And He must remain central to the overall narrative we teach our children during this time of year. But don’t needlessly bail on Santa. If you look close enough, his jolly red suit is a giant red arrow pointing straight to Jesus. We just have to make sure and follow the arrow when it shows up.

We’ve become boring story tellers.

Our modern scientific minds have turned us into impotent story tellers. Telling stories is an art performance, not a repeating of scientifically verifiable facts. There are lots of ways to tell this story without lying to our kids. Again, if your conscience is bothering you about it, then it probably means you should be telling the story a little differently.

I like to think of it this way. When we read a good bed time story, we read it like it’s real because it’s more fun and impactful that way. You learn more and it exercises the imagination. But at the end when your kid asks, “is that really real, Daddy?” the answer is rarely as simple as a yes or no.

Do princesses and castles exist? Yes, honey. Does princess Jasmine? well, no. Or maybe she did exist, but this story is only partially true about her. Or maybe she never existed, but the situations in the story are real. Maybe the scene is made up but the lesson is not. Does magic exist? No, not really. But do some moments in life feel magical? Absolutely. Are super heroes real? Yes, although they may look differently than you think. Dad, does anyone really have special powers? Yes, but not like you are thinking…better ones, that you’ll only realize are better when you’re older and wiser.

You have to be the judge on how much you answer now or allow to be answered in time. When your child asks “Is Santa really real?” a simple yes or no is not sufficient. If they ask, “is Santa really going to come down our chimney tonight?” maybe a good response is “well, what do you think?” or “we’ll have to see in the morning, won’t we!?” If they are getting more persistent, maybe you need to explain a little more, but no need to tell more than you must. Or, again, take the opportunity to ask them what they think and let them ponder it for awhile. Maybe you let them ponder it for years. But it’s still a story worth telling. At some point, when you tell the story to the older ones it’s accompanied by a wink and a nudge. That’s how they know they’re “in” on the secret and that they’ve been recruited to become enthusiastic tellers of the great story along with you.

If you find yourself lying about it, you’re telling the story all wrong. But we must remember that what is “real” in the mind of a child is established in a very abstract way over years of their life. When it comes to their experience of reality, the distinction of precisely what aspects and in what ways those aspects are “real” or “not real” is, first, not a simple black and white answer and, second, something clarified over time — and that’s okay. Our insistence on immediately and forcefully classifying everything neatly as either factually true or a lie is “an impoverished understanding of the nature of language, of thought, and of truth.”

A child’s mind is such a dynamic place – and forming it doesn’t happen in a single moment. With Santa — just as with Genesis and so many other great stories — instead of finding out the full story immediately in one sentence, the full understanding is something that sets in over time as we are ready. That’s the mark of a great story.

It makes for a much more memorable experience when we let Santa eat the cookies and deliver the presents. But kids soon learn that Santa had a few partners along the way to get the job done.

Good myths are the ones we grow in to – not out of.

—

And if that’s not enough, read why G.K. Chesterton still believes in Santa and this now-classic wondrous response to Virginia.

(Originally published 12.03.2013)

On Sept. 21, 1897, The New York Sun published what was to become the most widely read letter to a newspaper. It was sent by 8-year-old Virginia O’Hanlon. Below is that letter, along with the reply by New York Sun editorial writer Francis Pharcellus Church.

Dear Editor,

I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, “If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.” Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

— Virginia O’Hanlon

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God he lives and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10 thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Francis Pharcellus Church

What has happened to me has been the very reverse of what appears to be the experience of most of my friends. Instead of dwindling to a point, Santa Claus has grown larger and larger in my life until he fills almost the whole of it. It happened in this way.

As a child I was faced with a phenomenon requiring explanation.  I hung up at the end of my bed an empty stocking, which in the morning became a full stocking.  I had done nothing to produce the things that filled it.  I had not worked for them, or made them or helped to make them.  I had not even been good – far from it.

And the explanation was that a certain being whom people called Santa Claus was benevolently disposed toward me. . . .  What we believed was that a certain benevolent agency did give us those toys for nothing. And, as I say, I believe it still.  I have merely extended the idea.

Then I only wondered who put the toys in the stocking; now I wonder who put the stocking by the bed, and the bed in the room, and the room in the house, and the house on the planet, and the great planet in the void.

Once I only thanked Santa Claus for a few dollars and crackers. Now, I thank him for stars and street faces, and wine and the great sea. Once I thought it delightful and astonishing to find a present so big that it only went halfway into the stocking.  Now I am delighted and astonished every morning to find a present so big that it takes two stockings to hold it, and then leaves a great deal outside; it is the large and preposterous present of myself, as to the origin of which I can offer no suggestion except that Santa Claus gave it to me in a fit of peculiarly fantastic goodwill.

To each man one soul only is given; to each soul only is given a little power — the power at some moments to outgrow and swallow up the stars.

If age after age that power comes upon men, whatever gives it to them is great. Whatever makes men feel old is mean — an empire or a skin-flint shop. Whatever makes men feel young is great — a great war or a love-story. And in the darkest of the books of God there is written a truth that is also a riddle.

It is of the new things that men tire — of fashions and proposals and improvements and change. It is the old things that startle and intoxicate. It is the old things that are young.

There is no skeptic who does not feel that many have doubted before. There is no rich and fickle man who does not feel that all his novelties are ancient. There is no worshipper of change who does not feel upon his neck the vast weight of the weariness of the universe. But we who do the old things are fed by nature with a perpetual infancy. No man who is in love thinks that any one has been in love before. No woman who has a child thinks that there have been such things as children.

1) We are balancing the wrong two things, and

#2) we are attempting to balance them around the wrong point—we have the wrong thing at the center.

Here’s a drawing to help:

Keep your family always at the center with you. Remember your work, play, life, everything else is in service to them and your home (not the other way around). Then, instead, worry about your work-play balance, as they revolve entirely around your family (the point) at the center.

But what if there was a machine that could take all those food scraps, half-spoiled groceries, and any other undesirable leftovers and turn them into a new, fresh, nutritious super-food each day for your family?

As it turns out, this machine does indeed exist. Even better, the blessed thing is powered by and runs on table scraps! It’s called a chicken. Get you some.

Don’t let the inefficient, wasteful, counter-productivities of life worry and distract you when there is usually something much more important going on at the same time. Keep the highest ends in mind so you don’t miss the whole point of everything.

Then we lament that—after they’ve spent these most formative years of their lives mostly focused on a future career—they go out into the world and put their careers ahead of their marriages, faith, family, neighbors.

Of course that’s what they will do. After all, we spent their entire lives up to this point showing them exactly where their focus in life should be and what is most important. Attempting to include a few hours or activities a week spent on faith, family, and personal holiness shows them exactly where such priorities fall in comparison. And they inevitably live accordingly.

If we truly want to raise children who become the kinds of adults that put the most important things first, we simply must make dramatic changes to how they spend the first 22 years of their lives.

I’m becoming a big fan of that kind of minimalism. But minimalism can also be bad. Like when it causes us to only put in the minimal amount of effort toward the most important things in our lives.

What’s the least I can do and still be a good friend, husband and father. What’s the least I can work and still be thought a good worker? What’s the least I can give and still be considered a generous person?

We want to be a good friend, a good spouse, a good parent, a good worker and a generous person. But we only want to do just enough to be considered so — and no more. That way we can spend the rest of our time doing what we’d rather be doing. We call this “efficient.”

It’s even more insidious when we inevitably apply this attitude to our faith. What are the minimal requirements to still be considered a Christian? What’s the least I can do and still get to heaven?

These minimalist questions miss the point and lead us into boring, mediocre, unfulfilling lives.

Rather, we should instead be asking what’s the most I can do for my spouse? What’s the most I can give to others? What’s the most I can do for my friends and my children? That’s where the bar should be.

Not what is the least I can do to be a good Christian, but what is the most beautiful, most truthful and fullest expression of Christianity? Live that.

The minimum requirement (and the most simple) is to give everything we’ve got. We should stop wasting life trying to get away with something less.

(Originally published 07.25.2013)