OK, Virginia, There’s No Santa Claus.
But There Is God
My 8-year-old son, Caleb, puts his hand on my shoulder; he wears an expression that shows he wants to have a man-to-man talk. “Dad,” he says, “I know there’s no Santa Claus.” He rattles off his indictments, starting with the pure physics of the enterprise. There’s no way one guy can visit every house in a single night. And how does he get into houses with no chimneys? Then there’s the matter of zoology – not a single nature book on our shelves mentions flying reindeer. Perhaps most important for an 8-year-old, there’s the weight of public opinion – none of Caleb’s friends believe in Santa any more. He leans close, his voice taking that tone of worldliness that is at once endearing and saddening to a parent. “He isn’t real, is he?”
Perhaps a more responsible parent would confess, but I hesitate. For this I blame G.K. Chesterton, whose treatise “Orthodoxy” had its 100th anniversary this year.
Click here to read Tony Woodlief’s essay in today’s Wall Street Journal.
