Freeday 16 August 2002

Pic of the day: If this screenshot doesn't seem connected with the title, don't worry. This time, it actually is. And besides, that's the least of your worries ...

Father Christmas

Well, today I read this entry over at Nova Notes and then I sat down and wrote a short fiction about Christmas and death and Santa Claus and the Lord. Now I don't really mean to blaspheme, not in the slightest. I am a Christian, and as such I don't believe in the immortality of the soul (that's an idea from Platon, Greek philosopher) - the only known proponent of that idea in the Bible is the Serpent early in Genesis. I believe in the resurrection of the dead (or die trying). In light of this, there is a certain ironic distance to the subject matter, which I accept that not all of my readers will have.

So if you think you are a fundamentalist Christian and you still believe that the soul goes to Heaven when you die and stuff, you probably shouldn't read this. And anyway, it's not really meant to be true. Just a fable about the nature of faith. But just in case, I've color coded it controversial. Parental guidance might be a good idea ... depending on the parent.

* * * Fiction begins here! * * *

"So, Roger, are you looking forward to Christmas? When Santa Claus comes with gifts to you, if you have been nice ..." "I am not sure Santa Claus is for real, Dad. Stephen says Santa Claus was just his dad with a mask." "Oh, but why would Stephen's dad bring you gifts?" "I think perhaps you are my Santa Claus." "You think so? Wait until Christmas, and then you will see."

"My Roger is catching on to Santa Claus. He is a bright boy, but he hasn't found it out by himself. One of the other boys in the street told him." "Yeah, and I don't know how long I can hide it from Alex either." "You know what? What if we switched places? You could dress up and come over to give Roger his gifts, and afterwards I go over to your place and do the same. When they see their father and Santa Claus at the same time, they will believe." "Yeah, but should we do that? Sooner or later they will learn the truth." "But then they will be old enough to understand it. I'm not sure I can explain the whole thing about the spirit of Christmas and stuff yet. Another couple years perhaps."

"Hear, jingle bells! Perhaps it is Santa!" "I don't think so, Dad." "Well, I'm going to open the door just in case." "Ho ho ho! Are there any nice children here?" "Santa Claus? But ... Dad is here too!" "Perhaps I have a gift for him as well." "Are you really Santa Claus?" "I am real as long as you believe, Roger. And here are your gifts." "Wow. Santa? Can I ask you something?" "I must be on my way, Roger. There are other children, you know." "Dad? Where do Santa Claus get his gifts from? And why does he show up only on Christmas?" "That is really one question, Roger. We celebrate Christmas to remember Jesus Christ, who was once a little boy who got gifts too. Now he gives the gifts to Santa, who spreads them around." "Does Jesus really make all those gifts?" "In a way. He doesn't make them all by hand. You'll understand it someday, Roger."

***

The one-way window on space-time fades, and St Nicholas looks at his friend and Lord standing beside him. "See, Nick? There is no reason for you to go back and denounce the Santa Claus thing. We are not competitors." "But why all this deception?" "Because they are not ready for the truth." "Who are not? The children ... or the parents?" The Lord laughs - a hearty, delighted laughter. "Good question, Nick! You were always one of those who understood me the best. Look again ... seventy years later." A new window on space-time opens.

"Thank you for coming, Father Smith. I am sorry to disturb you so close to Christmas ..." "That is nothing, Mr Wells. It is my pleasure." "Please, just call me Roger. Everyone does. Father, I have never been strong in the faith. I had thought perhaps this would change as death drew closer, but it has not. I am unlikely to survive over the holidays, and I am still in doubt. I think it would be right to say I am an agnostic. I wouldn't mind if the whole God and Jesus thing was true, but I can't see any proof." "That is why we call it faith." "But how can I believe in anything that isn't true? That would be dishonest, and who wants to worship a God who rewards dishonesty?" "The truth, Roger, is that none of us knows the truth. This is what the word of God says, too: We see as through a glass, darkly. I believe that the glass is clear as day from the other side, and God sees us as we are. But we can only dimly sense that something moves on the other side ... coincidences that are just too many and too big. A world full of life and beauty in the cold dark cosmos. Love that survives and grows amid hate and cruelty. Stories handed down from men who would rather die than stop telling about their friend and teacher who had risen from the grave." "So you are saying that we don't really know how much of it is true?" "Jesus was crucified by people who thought they had found the truth in old books, Roger." "You have a strange way of comforting the dying, Father. But I appreciate it. I thought you would use the psychological tricks of your trade to convince me." "You cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven wearing my faith, Roger. You must have your own – or borrow one from the Lord."

Another window opens in Heaven. Creatures utterly alien even to the wildest human imagination are surrounded by equipment unlike anything seen on Earth. Parts of the creatures as well as the other objects seem to twist into and out of reality, at right angles with all three of our dimensions. Yet when they speak, St Nicholas hears them in his mother tongue, just like all the other windows he has looked through after he came here.

"Human MKNA18943627 reached natural termination. Label Roger Wells." "Does it have any religion?" "Nominal Christianity, mostly scientific mindset." "I guess we can't just plug it in the Heaven module, then. Crossroads?" "Crossroads sounds fine." "OK, here it goes."

***

Roger sits up. His bed is gone, the hospital room with the tacky Christmas decorations is gone. He is on a gray, dreary crossroads of paths surrounded by swirling fog. Confused, he stands up ... and has no problems doing so. His body is young and healthy. He turns to look at the signs. There are lots of paths leading from here. One says "Heaven", one says "Hell", another "Nirvana" and "Oblivion". Further down one path he can see signs pointing to "Valhalla", "Elysium" and some other destinations he cannot read at this distance. He looks around, then speaks out loud. "Where is the welcoming committee?" There is no answer. His words seems to be absorbed in the fog. "I mean, what about the Being of Light, and the dead relatives? Hello?" No answer.

"This is a bit too obvious, isn't it? Perhaps it is a test. If I believe I am worthy of Heaven, then I am too proud and will end up in Hell; but if I am repentant and feel worthy of Hell, then I'll take that road and end up in Heaven. Is that it?" Still no answer. He starts to walk in gradually wider circles. Suddenly he stops. "Hey! You there! Come on, tell me what is going on!"

Nicholas gasps. In all the time he has been here, nobody has been able to see through the windows. He turns to look to the Lord for direction, but a hand comes through the window and unceremoniously pulls him through the fourth wall. Suddenly he stands at the crossroads with the other man, and the window to Heaven is gone as if it never existed. As if it was all a dream.

***

"So", Roger Wells asks, "what is the deal here?" "I don't know" says the other, visibly shaken. "I thought ... but then I saw ..." He seems to pull himself together. "I saw these creatures, like some monsters living on the edge of reality ... they picked up your soul like I would pick up a small glass bauble, and placed it in ... in a reality. This reality. They said they could have put you in Heaven but they decided on this instead." He looks like he is going to be sick.

For some reason, Roger feels much calmer than the other man looks. He is not really surprised, he realizes. "So who are you, anyway, and how come you were watching me?" "I ... my name is Nick. Uh, Nick Bishop. I ... this must sound strange, but I saw you through a window in Heaven. Or what I believed to be Heaven. I realize now that it must have been a ... what do you call them, fictional reality?" "Virtual reality. So you know about that in Heaven too? Do you have Internet in Heaven, and if so, why don't my folks ever send me any mail?" "No, we have ... had ... windows on the world. We could see anywhere, anytime ... past and future. Nobody really knows how to measure time in Heaven, so your time could be long ago or in the far future. I don't really know. Not that it matters anyway ... there is no Heaven! It was all just an illusion!"

"You know, this sounds eerily familiar. It reminds me of when I was just a boy, and a friend of mine came and told me that there was no Santa Claus. He had learned the truth: It was his father wearing a Santa costume and mask. It was all a lie. I told this to my father, and he explained ... or rather, he demonstrated to me that Santa was indeed real." "You don't believe that now, do you?" "Sure I do. Listen, Nick, and I will tell you. A few days later it was Christmas, and Santa showed up with presents. I watched him closely, and saw that he was wearing a mask. I listened, and from the sound of his voice I realized that it was our neighbor. And then I remembered something my father had asked me: 'Why would Stephen's father bring you gifts?' And I asked myself: Why would the neighbor bring me gifts? Because he did it for someone else, I realized. And then I understood what my father had meant. Santa is real. The neighbor, and my father, and Stephen's father ... they were not disguised as Santa Claus. Santa was disguised as them! For as long as it took them to do Santa's work, they were really Santa. The name doesn't matter, only the actions."

Nick staggers, and an expression of awe fills his face. "Then YOU are Santa Claus!" "Me?" "Because you just gave me the greatest gift: My faith back! You are right. I thought I had more faith than most people who had ever lived; I was secure in my salvation; I even thought that I knew the Lord and talked to Him and He to me, face to face. And yet in an instant I lost my faith because I believed my eyes over His Word. For it is written: 'He makes winds His angels, burning fire His servants'. How much more then aliens, or a human! I could not see angels unless they wore white and shining garments. But now I know they can take forms I do not know, and yet I trust them to do the Lord's work. And wherever His will is done, there is His Kingdom."

Roger smiles uncertainly at him: "Well, since you know Him better than I do, could you please tell me the way?" "That is simple. See the sign? Heaven. It is not a trick; the only trickery is in ourselves. My Lord couldn't lie if his life depended on it!" They look at each other, and then burst out laughing at the phrasing. "I guess he couldn't, at that" admits Roger, and the two of them step together into the fog in the direction of Heaven.

Immediately the fog clears, and there just before them is one of the huge pearly gates. Casually leaning against one side is the Lord, looking amused. "You are quick on the uptake, both of you." Roger watches him with interest. "We don't see you as you really are, do we?" "Oh yes you do! Even though the two of you see me quite differently, as do our friends out on the Dimensional Rim. I am all that, and more. And as you abide with me, you will see more and more, all of it true. Ever more, for ever and ever." "Good God!" "So they say." The Lord flashes him a friendly grin. "Now if the two of you would come with me, there's a Christmas party waiting."

---

My apologies to all the actual R.W. out there. This is always a quandery - the more unlikely a name is, the more singled out someone will be if they happen to exist. So I chose a fairly common name this time. Any similarities to actual people, living and/or dead, are pure coincidence.