Let me tell you the story of how I became Santa Claus...
Becoming Santa was not something that I planned, in fact, I considered the myth of Santa Claus to be little more than a distraction from the meaning of Christmas and a radical pursuit of justice: didn't the poor deserve social justice instead of an offering of trinkets? My high-mindedness eventually crashed when the "real" Santa, I suppose, got a better gig. What else could I do but step into the void and try to get the job done?
I did not receive the benefit of a practice run. I had neither sleigh nor reindeer: but I did have a list of names, the ages of the children, and addresses. Plus, I had our bus! Surely, I thought, this was something that I could do... I hadn't planned, though, on how long it would take me to sort the gifts, wrap, and figure out the best route to accomplish my task... It wasn't until the early evening that I was able to hit the road...
I figured that I'd drop off the gifts I had for families in town first. This went well enough, except for one address I simply could not find, although I knew where it was supposed to be... Still needing to deliver gifts to families in three migrant farmworker camps down the Salinas Valley, I decided to forego any further search for that last Salinas family... Three camps later, our bus was emptied of gifts -- except for the big bag meant for the invisible family... Returning to Salinas after midnight, I thought "Surely, that family could not still be expecting Santa for it's already Christmas Day! I'm exhausted..."
Nevertheless, exhausted or not, I proceeded to search once again for the address I could not find. Creeping along like a prospective thief, I noticed a dilapidated apartment set some distance back from the street. No street light shone, but I figured, who'd jump some dude dressed up like Santa at one o'clock in the morning? I had no flashlight, so I lurched into and over potholes, peering for some sign of life or the actual address...
Finally, I approached the apartment. A sliver of light shone through the door and the floorboard. I knocked. The door opened just a crack, but enough for a startled face to see Santa with a huge bag slung over his back! I was joyfully ushered into the tiny living room. Off into the corner stood a little tree with nothing under or around it. The two women were giddy with excitement and telling me the kids were asleep in the next room: I couldn't believe the rush of bliss flooding my heart as I emptied the bag...
My retreat from the apartment and drive home turned into a complete mystic surrender into the mystery of both grace and Santa. A paradigm shift occurred in my consciousness: I realized that justice is more than a social step into an increase of equality and dignity: for justice is deeply the ecstasy of loving in action... Certainly, the myth of Santa Claus has become an advertising icon for the endless multiplication of wants (which only serves corporate greed). But on the other hand, the reality of the Santa-Spirit, which is always available and free upon the asking, could completely re-define culture, economics, politics, and (why not?) the world...
And so, I became Santa Claus. It's the best job that I've ever had, although I now find myself sort of retired and a writer... Male, female, young or old: all of you can become other Santas! Becoming Santa just means to find your core happiness in increasing the happiness of others... And, of course, the Santa-Spirit is an out-growth of the legends of St. Nicholas, as the legends of St. Nick are another flowering of the Way of the Beatitudes... It's all connected, as it's all about living in such a way that loving becomes the most reasonable thing in the world... So truly, truly, I wish you a happy Christmas!
Becoming Santa was not something that I planned, in fact, I considered the myth of Santa Claus to be little more than a distraction from the meaning of Christmas and a radical pursuit of justice: didn't the poor deserve social justice instead of an offering of trinkets? My high-mindedness eventually crashed when the "real" Santa, I suppose, got a better gig. What else could I do but step into the void and try to get the job done?
I did not receive the benefit of a practice run. I had neither sleigh nor reindeer: but I did have a list of names, the ages of the children, and addresses. Plus, I had our bus! Surely, I thought, this was something that I could do... I hadn't planned, though, on how long it would take me to sort the gifts, wrap, and figure out the best route to accomplish my task... It wasn't until the early evening that I was able to hit the road...
I figured that I'd drop off the gifts I had for families in town first. This went well enough, except for one address I simply could not find, although I knew where it was supposed to be... Still needing to deliver gifts to families in three migrant farmworker camps down the Salinas Valley, I decided to forego any further search for that last Salinas family... Three camps later, our bus was emptied of gifts -- except for the big bag meant for the invisible family... Returning to Salinas after midnight, I thought "Surely, that family could not still be expecting Santa for it's already Christmas Day! I'm exhausted..."
Nevertheless, exhausted or not, I proceeded to search once again for the address I could not find. Creeping along like a prospective thief, I noticed a dilapidated apartment set some distance back from the street. No street light shone, but I figured, who'd jump some dude dressed up like Santa at one o'clock in the morning? I had no flashlight, so I lurched into and over potholes, peering for some sign of life or the actual address...
Finally, I approached the apartment. A sliver of light shone through the door and the floorboard. I knocked. The door opened just a crack, but enough for a startled face to see Santa with a huge bag slung over his back! I was joyfully ushered into the tiny living room. Off into the corner stood a little tree with nothing under or around it. The two women were giddy with excitement and telling me the kids were asleep in the next room: I couldn't believe the rush of bliss flooding my heart as I emptied the bag...
My retreat from the apartment and drive home turned into a complete mystic surrender into the mystery of both grace and Santa. A paradigm shift occurred in my consciousness: I realized that justice is more than a social step into an increase of equality and dignity: for justice is deeply the ecstasy of loving in action... Certainly, the myth of Santa Claus has become an advertising icon for the endless multiplication of wants (which only serves corporate greed). But on the other hand, the reality of the Santa-Spirit, which is always available and free upon the asking, could completely re-define culture, economics, politics, and (why not?) the world...
And so, I became Santa Claus. It's the best job that I've ever had, although I now find myself sort of retired and a writer... Male, female, young or old: all of you can become other Santas! Becoming Santa just means to find your core happiness in increasing the happiness of others... And, of course, the Santa-Spirit is an out-growth of the legends of St. Nicholas, as the legends of St. Nick are another flowering of the Way of the Beatitudes... It's all connected, as it's all about living in such a way that loving becomes the most reasonable thing in the world... So truly, truly, I wish you a happy Christmas!
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