That Eternal Old Man

On the night of the twenty-fifth of December there comes forth from the cave of eternity an old man of dignity and awe, whose hair the turns of time have whitened and whose back the burden of the ages has bent. He is girded in a red mantle whose warp is of years and whose weft is of generations. He walks with a smile on his lips that cannot be effaced, and in his eyes a gleam that does not go out. He goes along slowly, leaning with one hand on his staff and carrying in the other a laden bag which he has thrown over his shoulder. He makes his way among the huts and the palaces, bestowing on their sleeping children and young ones what his load affords.

He is a venerable old man who has grown used to what no other human being is accustomed to: he is used to giving and not taking. He is the one we all know by the name of Santa Claus. As for this name of his, it is nothing but the English corruption of the two Dutch words San Nicolas, that is, Saint Nicholas. The Dutch colonists brought this name to America, and the

Americans passed it on and altered its pronunciation until it settled as "Santa Claus." This Saint Nicholas was a bishop in Myra (Asia Minor) in the age of the Emperor Diocletian, who persecuted him and made him taste bitter torment in the prisons of Turkey, until the Emperor Constantine arose and pardoned him.

The inhabitants of Asia Minor were so devoted to Saint Nicholas, and held him in such honor, that after his death they kept his remains at Myra until the eleventh century A.D., when certain Italians, moved by religious zeal, carried his relics away to Bari (Italy). It is said:

— On the day they laid his remains in the Church of Saint Stephen in Italy, thirty sick people were cured of their ailments. And from that time his tomb was made a shrine of pilgrimage for the Italians.

As for his fame as the bearer of holiday gifts, it goes back to a charming legend told of him. It is said:

— There was in Myra a man of the notables of the town against whom fortune turned, stripping him of all his wealth. He had three daughters who had reached the age of marriage, but his financial condition stood in the way of their marrying, since he had not the means to dower them. And when he had knocked at every door of livelihood and come back with a losing bargain, he went to his girls and urged them to follow the paths of temptation in pursuit of the money he sought.

It was as though God Almighty refused to let those girls fall, and so prompted Saint Nicholas to deliver their souls. The saint came to them by night and threw stealthily through the window a purse of money sufficient to dower one of them; and on the third night, likewise, he threw them a second purse.

The two incidents stirred the interest of that family, and the father resolved to keep vigil through the night, watching for that generous rescuer. No sooner had the second watch of the night come than the purse was thrown stealthily into the room; the father hurried out after the thrower and caught hold of his mantle — and behold, he stood before Saint Nicholas.

From this legend was taken the custom of presenting gifts at the dawn of the feast of Saint Nicholas. But the lofty station to which people have raised Christmas, and the great attention we have paid to the Christmas tree in the last two centuries, have led to the transfer of the custom of giving gifts to Christmas Eve.

And today, as we arrive at the threshold of this feast, we ask Father Santa Claus about the treasures he holds in store for us this year. Does he carry for us, as is his custom, dolls of clay and robes of fine silk?

Does he carry for us as usual pearls and pure gold and rubies? No, old man, we can do without all that you have accustomed us to lavish upon us. Today, as yesterday, we stand in greater need of spiritual gifts than of material ones.

We need one who will stretch out his hand to the arrogant rich and grant them compassion for their poor brothers.

We need one who will give the man blind of heart spectacles of light, to show him what he does not see around him and make him understand what has escaped him.

We need one who will give the partial oppressor a quiver whose arrows are of justice and fairness.

We lack one who will preach to our preachers and teach them the essence of religion.

We lack one who will give parents even a grain of wisdom to guide them in the raising of their children.

We lack one who will give man spectacles to show him that his wife is a human being like himself, whom God created in His image also.

We lack one who will place in the ears of these wanderers on the roads of life a balm to cure them of their deafness, that they may hear humanity's wailing and its moaning rising from the depths of its depths.

So if, Santa Claus, your bag holds some of these gifts, then bring out what you have and lavish it upon us. If not, then it is best of all — best of all — that you pass us by, on the night of this feast, in peace!