6 December: Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, c. 342

Today is St. Nicholas Day, and forty years ago or so it was a rather important day in my life. Because in the late 60’s and early 70’s I was often overwhelmed by the days and evenings surrounding Christmas itself, I used to compensate for my not being able to spend bunches of time with the kids by “pre-doing” Christmas a bit.

My family knew that over the centuries fat Santa had evolved in story, myth, and importance from traditions surrounding fourth-century Bishop Nicholas of Myra. The real “Nick” was born in Patra, a village located in the southern coast of Turkey. As the orphaned son of fairly wealthy parent, Nicholas, took Jesus’ word to “sell what you own and give the money to the poor” at face value and unloaded up his inheritance to help the needy, sick, and suffering. The tradition says that he dedicated his life to serving God and became well-known for his generosity, especially toward children, along with his concern for sailors and ships. Later in life Nicholas suffered for his faith during imperial persecutions with exile and imprisonment. When released from prison, he attended the Council of Nicea in 325, died eighteen years later on December 6 in Myra, and was buried in his cathedral church.

Of the many stories associated with his life, the best known rehearses his helping a gentleman with three unmarried daughters. The father was unable to raise enough money to provide his girls with dowries; as a consequence they were destined to become old maids. Some embellish the tale suggesting that they might have well ended up as prostitutes. When walking by the gentleman’s home, so it is said, Nicholas threw a bag of gold through a window on three successive nights and so saved the daughters from a life of shame. As you might imagine, yes, all were married and lived happily ever after. Such is the hagiographical nimbus of Old Saint Nick, good enough to make sure that our present jolly oaf has a decent resume, the business world’s best gift-giver.

Retelling the story of Saint Nick to our children on December 6 had two advantages. First, it nicely deconstructed the myth of Santa. Our kids were never fooled beyond the age of four or five. And second, it gave us an opportunity to finesse the 25th out of its overbearing emphasis on getting so many toys that little else mattered. We finessed by giving the children some pre-Christmas gifts on December 6, the Day of Saint Nicholas. Moreover, for several years we baked and bagged St. Nicholas cookies, tied up small branches of evergreens, and early on the morning of this day surreptitiously hung both on our neighbors’ front doors. We never told them who had hung the greens.

I still like to remember the real Nicholas, the generous saint who suffered for his faith and helped the Church think through her understanding of Christ at the Council of Nicea. I'll say the Niceane Creed today and thank God for his witness.

Almighty God, who in your love gave to your servant Nicholas of Myra a perpetual name for deeds of kindness on land and sea: Grant, we pray, that your Church may never cease to work for the happiness of children, the safety of sailors, the relief of the poor, and the help of those tossed by tempests of doubt or grief; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.