As a kid growing up in Keewatin, Minnesota, my younger brother and I would frequent the home of old “Grandma” Odie just down the alley. She’d always give us cookies or candy . . . and, due to her senility, she would ask us the same questions over and over again. One year around Christmas, she asked what we wanted from Santa. I sharply answered, “We don’t believe in Santa Claus.”
Granda Odie frowned. “You don’t believe in Santa Claus?”
“No. It’s just our mommy and daddy.”
“Well, I believe in Santa Claus,” she answered.
“You do?”
“Of course! I believe Santa Claus is a spirit, and he gives you the Christmas spirit in your heart.”
At that point I just shut my mouth and took another bite of my cookie. For Grandma Odie, “Santa” was a meaningful symbol of the Christmas spirit. And as long as it didn’t involve a rotund man climbing down my chimney in the middle of the night, I was willing to give her a pass.
From that point on through my childhood and adolescence, I accepted the "idea" of Santa Claus as a quaint symbol for a festive spirit, joyful demeanor, or even charitable virtue. But I had little interest in considering whether there ever was a real Santa Claus. Grandma Odie’s spiritualized interpretation was good enough for me. Having conveniently dismissed the Claus of history, I replaced him with the Santa of faith.
However, over the last several years, my study of early church history constantly led me across the path of the mysterious St. Nicholas of Myra—a.k.a. Saint Nick, Nikolaus, or Santa Claus. As a result, I became more and more interested in the historical man behind the mythical symbol.
Sadly, though, my quest for the historical Santa was a short one. The fact is, historians really don’t know a whole lot about Nicholas of Myra. The biographies we have were written centuries after his death and are filled with all sorts of far-fetched legendary accounts. Here’s what we know: Nicholas of Myra was born in southern Asia Minor (modern Turkey) in the late third century (around A.D. 270). By the early fourth century, he was serving as the bishop of Myra. He died around A.D. 346 on December 6, which is his feast day.
That’s the extent of our relative certainty.
Going a bit beyond the facts of history, St. Nicholas is known as having been a very generous person, who gave liberally to the poor and defended the oppressed. Many details of his charity are sketchy and legendary, but it seems likely that he cared for children as well as showed hospitality to sailors and foreigners—those who were constantly passing through the port city of Myra. (Yes, he was from the coastal Mediterranean. No, he was not from the North Pole.)
It's probable, too, that Nicholas suffered imprisonment and mistreatment during the great Roman persecution under Emperor Diocletian, who reigned from 284–305. And we have some reason to believe that Nicholas attended the first ecumenical council of Nicaea in 325, where Arius was condemned for denying the deity of Christ. Nicholas’s name appears on some lists of those bishops in attendance. I don’t see any reason why he would not have attended the council, for his southern coastal city of Myra was about 400 miles from Nicaea in the north, and he would have only been about 55 at the time. (Besides, didn't he have a fleet of flying reindeer?)
From this point in the biography of Nicholas we embark into the purely legendary, which may or may not have any relationship to the actual history. Tales are told about his many miracles—from calming the seas to bringing children back to life. He is often called “Nicholas the Wonderworker” because of the accounts of miracles appearing in medieval biographies and artwork. But outside of the miraculous, the most interesting legend for me is the story of Nicholas striking Arius in the face at the Council of Nicaea. (Not quite the jolly old Saint Nicholas we imagine!) But the historical evidence for Santa Claus punching heretics in the nose isn’t strong enough for us to start a Christmas tradition of getting into fist fights with Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Thus ends my quest for the historical Santa. Yes, St. Nicholas is more than simply a symbol of the holiday spirit . . . but not much more. If your children ask you this Christmas if Santa Claus was a real person, you may confidently answer, “Yes.” But beyond that, there’s really not much more we can say for sure.
Today, December 22, 2008, marks my fourteenth wedding anniversary. It was the first of two weddings. Yes, I’ve been married twice—to the same woman and never divorced. The private legal wedding was December 22, 1994; the public church wedding was on June 10, 1995. No, it wasn’t a “Luger” wedding (my German father-in-law doesn’t even own a gun). We were legally married six months early so Steph’s immigrant visa would be ready by our planned wedding date in June. It didn’t work. Needless to say, I now have two wedding anniversaries to remember.
