by Mark Patterson
In the early 19th century, Washington Irving, who wrote such classics as The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and Rip Van Winkle, set his fabled pen to Christmas, with a public service in mind: to call out the use of the holiday as an occasion for criminal behavior. Colonial “Hooligans,” it seems, were exploiting a festive atmosphere to swig liquor by the barrel, feast to the point of bursting, wreak havoc in the streets, and even break into homes under the pretense of “wassailing.” (At least, modern carolers respectfully remain outside.) Inconceivably, Christ’s birthday somehow, they apparently felt, also granted special leave for outdoor fornication. (Frigid temps be damned, those hardy settlers bundled down and got B-U-S-Y!)
So, with the very sanctity of the season, and certainly the role of Santa Clause, a developing hybrid of some beneficent 5th century saint and England’s earthy “Father Christmas,” in the balance, the legendary author invoked unflattering images of a fat, boisterous (presumably drunken) Dutch sailor clad in a green coat (that we now know harbored evil plans to turn red). The intention was to so lampoon the rotund gift giver as to solidify Jesus as sole occupant of his own birthday throne. In other words: to evict the increasingly popular elf from a holiday he had no claim to.
Gee, fast-forwarding some two centuries plus, I guess we know how THAT worked out. Unless nativity scenes have started outselling inflatable Santas (I saw a blow -up Snoopy last week that was roughly the size of Rhode Island) , and your kids address their scrawled crayon letters to Jerusalem, rather than a certain point farther north. And which “gift” item do you think spurs more requests in those missives: eternal salvation? Or a deluxe set of Super-Legos?
Don’t blame the savior, Santa gives us stuff NOW, and his bar of acceptable behavior is lower. (Fess up, guys. Isn’t it just a bit easier to not stick gum in Suzie’s hair then to go cold turkey on coveting your neighbor’s shapely spouse?) So, if the battle for Christmas dominance were a prizefight, the birthday boy’s corner long ago threw in the towel, conceding to a mirthful toy-maker who outweighs him by, oh, maybe 100 lbs.
Many breakout characters started as second bananas to clearly defined headliners. But people always decide for themselves which players they find most compelling. So, with that in mind, think of Christmas time Jesus as Ritchie Cunningham, or Andy Griffith, and the guy driving the sleigh as Fonzie, or Barney Fife-two “supporting” roles that caught the pulic’s fancy to far eclipse the intended leads.
Clause’s higher (cold weather) “Q” rating seems improbable, considering that Christ had a four-century head start. And that the Santa we know was not even rendered before a 1931 cartoon in Harper’s Weekly, nor a significant presence in pop culture until appropriated for Coca Cola ads later in that decade. That Santa and the soft drink giant share those red and white colors even gave rise to a misconception that the mercenary company first created him. (Hmmm… come to think of it, has the dude ever been spotted slugging down a Pepsi?)
They might as well have, since Dec 25 exerts far more tug on our purse strings than on our heart strings. America might be a “Christian nation,” but it’s consumerism, not prayer, that inspires those reindeer-and compels big-box stores to break out the bulbs and crank out Andy Williams after barely waiting for the swimming pools to close. They want you in a spending mood, not church, and have succeeded in making St. Nicks of us all-at least for the actual seven-weeks on average that your fellow citizens devote each year to holiday shopping.
As for the cost of playing Santa? Americans will spend about $1 trillion (That’s twelve zeros, if you’re counting.) on Christmas this year. That works out to over $1,500 per hustler & bustler and could buy a string of islands, or construct a global energy grid. And it exceeds the GDP of Poland. (Who’s dreaming of a White Christmas in Warsaw, anyway?) Some 60% of that will go for gifts, one-fourth for food and “beverage,” and the rest for general merriment (of a nature, one can only hope, which no longer lends itself to the public “production” of little Santas).
But if the son of man steps aside for Santa during the holidays, the latter faces a turf war of his own..against the internet. The jolly one’s delivery route may supernaturally span the globe, but our ability to buy gifts from any country on earth is a Christmas miracle in itself. Not to snow on anyone’s Macy’s Parade, but my Visa card can fly faster than Rudolph-and doesn’t drop fertilizer in its wake. Virtual plastic gets quite a workout in December, with nearly three-fourths of consumers making at least half of their buys online.
In deference to the great plot-twist of Christmas-a figure worshipped by more than 2 BILLION humans getting punked on his birthday by some guy who scrounges cookies-one of my purchases this year is a board game called “Santa vs Jesus.”(Take note which powerhouse gets first billing.) It’s a multi-player game that scores how many opponents each side “converts.” Presumably, managing to shanghai the good mother Mary, or even one of the wisemen, right onto the flying sleigh awards more points than secularizing the “Donkey,” another made-by-Mattel combatant giving their all for team Christ. One review complains that “Santa always wins.” Such realism should never be criticized.
