In 1897, Francis P.
Church, newspaper editor, wrote the following to an 8-year-old Virginia
O'Hanlon in response to her letter wanting to know if there really was a Santa
Claus. It seems one or more of her
friends had told her no such "person" existed. His words have become classic:
Virginia,
your little friends are wrong. They have
been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except what they see.
They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little
minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they
be [adults] or children's are little.
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 light. 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!...The most real things in the world are those that
neither children nor [adults] can see.
Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they
are not there.
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 [adult]...that ever
lived could tear apart. Only faith,
fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view...the beauty
and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is
nothing else so real and abiding.
No
Santa Claus! Thank God, he lives and he
lives forever. A thousand years from
now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to
make glad the heart of childhood.
I suspect that much of
Frank Church's prose went right over young Virginia's head. It likely was written with an eye to
newspaper sales more than a child's enlightenment. But it apparently touched the hearts of many
parents of the late 19th Century--at least, those belonging to what we now call
"upper middle-class white America".
But there were a number
of Americas then, just as there are now.
There were the wealthy Industrialists such as the Rockefellers and the
Mellons and the Carnegies. It was the time
of robber barons, Reconstruction, and child labor. For thousands, if not millions of children,
there were no newspapers in the household and they likely could not read them
if there were. There also were almost
certainly no presents under the Christmas tree (if there were such a thing) in
their living rooms. For them, Frank
Church's promise was as illusory as the fairy on the front lawn or a front lawn
itself.
Essentially, I believe
that Santa Claus, angels, and fairies (the ethereal kind) are conjured up out
of a very human need for deliverance and salvation. Santa Claus "delivers" in a
simplistic, materialistic way on Christmas Eve.
He reminds us that we are worthy of love because we receive the material
things we hope for, things that will "gladden our heart".
According to Wikipedia,
angels in the Abrahamic tradition "are often depicted as benevolent
celestial beings who act as intermediaries between heaven and earth or as
guardian spirits or a guiding influence".
I will take the liberty of casting them in the role of bringing "heavenly
gifts" to God's children--a Santa Claus for the post-adolescent set.
But what do they have
in their bag of treats? Not material
things, of that I'm certain. Perhaps a
soupcon of salvation, a lotion of love, a fountain of forgiveness? Fyodor Dostoyevsky has said, "For a
[person], all resurrection, all salvation, from whatever perdition, lies in
love; in fact, it is [our] only way to it".
Every gift under every
tree this Christmas is there as a representation of the love of one human being
for another. They are the product of the
human hands which make them and others that wrap them and place them there,
given from one human being to another out of love. Neither Santa Claus nor angels has a role to
play. Each of us has the capacity both
to give and receive the fruits of love.
This is a very liberating concept--one which does not depend upon
fantasy or hope alone.
The only salvation that
matters is the one in this life and for that I have all the gifts that I need. I have only to listen to Pavarotti sing
Puccini's Nessun Dorma or Judy
Collins Someday Soon or Paul
McCartney It's a Long and Winding Road
to hear the voice of Gabriel. I have
only to feel a friends' arm around me to brush against the Divine. Standing at the foot of the Giant Redwoods
and glancing up at the sky, I know all of Nature is a Cathedral. Gazing up at Michelangelo's David, I see in my own humanity evolution's
greatest gift. What temptation could
Angel or Santa Claus possibly offer me now?
© 15 December 2014
About
the Author
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I came to the beautiful
state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I
married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas
by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working
as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman
for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured
that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I
wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just
happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both
fortuitous and smooth.
Soon after, I retired and we
moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years
together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One
possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group
was there to light the way.
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