A Soul in Search of SantaDec 19 '02 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line Everyone must believe in something.
I'm not a kid anymore. At fifty plus years, I'm certainly old enough to know better. But I believe in Santa Claus…or at least the possibility of Santa Claus. I'm neither drunk (at this moment anyway), nor delusional. In fact, I've always considered myself to be a practical man, firmly grounded in reality. I'm not in any way New Age, spiritual, or mystical. And I haven't been blinded by religion. In fact, over the course of my life, I've seen and, to my regret, have even done many things that make me question our species' worthiness to inhabit this planet. And based upon mankind's lengthy track record of perpetrating horror after horror upon itself, I cannot even consider that we are deserving of a blissful and eternal life in some unsullied paradise. We, quite frankly, don't merit the attentions of a loving God. Would a truly loving God allow us to continue to inflict such agony upon each other? Wouldn't such a benevolent and all-knowing being, recognizing our tenacious propensity for evil, be more likely to purge the universe of this disease that we have become, and write us off as a failed experiment in evolution? Since we, this most imperfect of species, continue to exist, I must assume that God does not. Or if He does, He has certainly, and rightfully, turned away from us. Forget religion. I did long ago. But, I digress. Back to Santa Claus. I spend about fifty-one weeks a year as a weary, grumpy, middle-aged, pragmatist and agnostic. But, for one single week or so every year, I revert to the same fearful, hopeful, and somehow terrifyingly gleeful state that plagued our ignorant and superstitious ancestors, and that I scornfully dismiss during the other fifty-one. No, I don't imagine ghouls or goblins under my bed, blood-sucking vampires in the shadows, or see the ire of unknowable gods in thunder and lightning. But, nevertheless, I become somewhat primitive and childlike. I believe in Santa Claus. There has always been something special about Christmas. It is a magical time. To me, Christmas is not just another holiday to be celebrated and dismissed. The season overwhelms my senses and permeates my being until the feeling and spirit of Christmas is almost palpable. The air seems crisper, the nights clearer. The early winter winds carry the scent of pine and fir and home baked cookies. The eyes of strangers soften and brighten; their normally impassive faces seem ready to break into smiles and warm greetings. And, if I close my eyes and focus on the very core of my being (that part of me which I, in my more lucid moments, deny the very existence of), I can hear the faint tinkling of distant sleigh bells and the sweet songs of angelic choirs. And what of Santa? Oh, I've never seen him, much less his flying reindeer and army of over-worked but still jolly elves. But, each year, I fully expect to. Late each Christmas Eve night, when my family is asleep and all is still, my aging, tired eyes scan the heavens in search of Santa and his sleigh. My ears strain to hear the muffled, rhythmic tapping of hooves on rooftops. I ache, not for presents, but for a single brief glimpse of pure, unspoiled benevolence and innocence. I yearn for the existence of a supernatural universal good to counter the ubiquitous natural evil that mankind has constantly visited upon itself. My years here are growing short. I don't have many left. But still, every year on Christmas Eve, I wait and watch and listen, because if, one night, I do find that portly, old elf in my livingroom tucking presents under my Christmas tree, my spirit will, once again, be filled with hope. The hope that I abandoned so many years ago. I will have looked into the face of Santa Claus, but I will have seen God, because the magic of Santa's existence will have opened my cynical heart to the possibility of the existence of another, higher being that would finally give some purpose and meaning to my life. I have so many doubts, and so little faith. But Christmas is a season of new beginnings and great promise. It takes but simple recognition of the authenticity of that promise to accept the possibility of its fulfillment, however remote it may seem. And that recognition can foster hope in even the most hardened of hearts. I can not yet take the tremendous leap of faith required to believe in the existence of a benevolent God. But I can take that first, small, tentative step. I can cling to a belief in, or more accurately a hope for, the existence of Santa Claus, for who better to serve as God's herald and emissary than this gentle and kindly spirit who is the essence of peace, love, altruism, and joy. So, each Christmas Eve, I wait and watch. I pray with all my being that I see him. Maybe this will be the year. (This has been a difficult year for the Epinions community. So often, we have shown ourselves to be a microcosm of our society through our selfishness, greed, spitefulness, and vengeance. But perhaps we, too, can have a new beginning in the coming year. I wish all of you, without exception, a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a peaceful, healthy and prosperous New Year. And, for me? What do I want for Christmas? Electronics. Lots of electronic stuff.)  |
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