Uh He’ Come Santa Claus, uh …

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,
Right down Santa Claus lane.

Vixen, Blitzen, all his reindeer
Pulling on the reins.
Bells are ringing, children singing,
All is merry and bright.
Hang your stockings and say a prayer,
’cause Santa Claus comes tonight.

Sorry – I never said I could sing and I certainly don’t expect Elvis’s Christmas tunes when I listen to Ancient Faith Radio (thanks God)!

But, this time of year? Ya just never know what you might hear … get … or especially read.

Sometime ago, within our lifetime, we entered the great American Debate about SantaMass … er, uh: Christmas.

And we Orthodox – especially American Converts – can be some of the most cantankerous offenders of holiday cheer! But more on that later …

First, a little more Elvis:

Ba-doop, ba-doop, ba-doopa …

He’s got a bag that’s filled with toys
For boys and girls again.
Hear those sleigh bells jingle jangle,
What a beautiful sight.
Jump in bed and cover up your head,
Because Santa Claus comes tonight.

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,
Riding down Santa Claus lane.

He doesn’t care if you’re a rich or poor boy,
He loves you just the same.
Santa knows that we’re god’s children,
That makes everything right.
Fill your hears with Christmas cheer,
’cause Santa Claus comes tonight.

Well, here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,
Riding down Santa Claus lane.

He’ll come around when the chimes ring out
It’s Christmas morn again.
Peace on earth will come to all
If we just follow the light
Let’s give thanks to the lord above,
’cause Santa Claus comes tonight.

Now, believe me … I know it sounds kinda un-Orthodox … but, well … What DO you do around this time of year?

Tune to the Orthodixie Podcast on Ancient Faith Radio.

I know, I know. I’m an Orthodox priest and there are others of my stripe — even my pal, Frederica — who hold a contrary view of the man. But try as I might, I can’t … I won’t, I say! … let go.

I still have a visceral reaction when I see a “good Santa” — you know, the one with a real beard, real gut, real red cheeks, real joy. You know, real. I can’t help it. It gives me hope. I become a kid again. The kid with memories that, I guess, can’t be proved. You know, real memories.

Image courtesy of Santa (age 6).