Baby Jesus

When I was in high school I was a very active in my church. It was called Inglewood Presbyterian, and it was about 2 miles from our house. We had a pastor named Hank Wapstra, an apple cheeked, rotund Dutch man, who inspired in me a love of history with his frequent lectures on the Old Testament and the map of Israel that he often taped on his pulpit. He was very active in ministering to the physically handicapped; he used to say that most fully “abled” people had “a wheel chair between their ears.”

I was more evangelical than my parents. When I was 15 years old I was dating another Christian, a guy named Lance, and he said that when he had kids he wasn’t going to tell them about Santa Claus, because Santa Claus was a lie that distracted people from the true meaning of Christmas. I had grown up with both traditions, and I was devastated by Lance’s proposition that Santa Claus be jettisoned in favor of a Christ-only Christmas.

After a very teary conversation with Lance, that eventually led to our break up, and I told my dad that maybe I wouldn’t incorporate Santa Claus into my traditions when I had kids of my own. My dad started to laugh, his shoulders rolling up and down. He was sitting in a high back dining room chair, and he starting laughing so hard that he doubled over until his forehead was nearly touching the floor. Needless to say, I wasn’t able to resolve this very painful dilemma in time to save my relationship with the dogmatic Lance.

Today the tables are turned. I no longer believe in God, and now I’m not sure how to tell my kids about the religious themes that are still a big part of the Christmas holiday.

I had an opportunity to think about this last week when Josh took the kids to his graduate school campus, Duquesne University, which is a Catholic University. There were dozens of Nativity scenes around campus, including one in a church that Josh ducked into to get out of the cold. Later that weekend Casey told me about their trip to Duquesne.

“Mom, I saw baby Jesus. I saw baby Jesuses all over the place!” Then Casey screwed up her forehead and got a serious look in her eye, like she was telling me something important that I would need to know later. “But then he died. And then he came back to life!”

Jacob chimed in: “Yeah, he died and then he came back to life!” This is a very exciting idea for Jacob, because when he grows up he wants to be a super hero who never dies. Or, as he recently announced, a “Pittsburgh Steeler.”

This conversation got me to thinking: how do I talk to my kids about the beliefs of other people? And, in this case, the beliefs I myself used to hold? How do I represent something that I disagree with to my kids?