Santa or Religion: Which is the Lie?

A few weeks ago I read a post by my friend and fellow dad blogger Joeprah, dealing with “Santa Guilt,” and asking the question: Why do we lie to our kids about Santa?

He brings up a few good points. In essence, we’re telling our kids that a big, fat man in a red suit watches them 24/7 to determine their naughtiness/niceness. And yes, it’s slightly weird that he lives in the Arctic Circle and surrounds himself with midgets. But moving on. If boys and girls are good, they will receive a visit from the fat man when he stuffs himself down a chimney and drops off presents, all during a whirlwind tour in which he somehow manages to defy the space/time continuum and deliver presents to each and every house in the world all in one night. But the bad kids don’t get anything, or worse, a lump of coal.

Apparently Santa didn’t get the memo about reducing his carbon footprint.

And even if our kids buy this lie, eventually they’ll figure it out. And as Joeprah pointed out, sometimes they get pissed. And rightfully so I guess. They want to know why they get punished when they lie, but their parents can lie to them for years and then tell them it was all for their own good.

I get it, it’s contradictory. And I hate the superficial consumerism and materialistic nature of Christmas as much as the next guy. I understand that paying $19.99 just to plop your kid down on a fat stranger’s lap and take a picture is a little warped.

That’s why I’m vowing — here and now in front of all 13 of my loyal readers — not to lie to my son anymore. That’s right, no more Santa. Instead, I need to tell my son the truth about what Christmas is all about. After all, the truth will set you free. So without further ado, this is the “truth” I will bestow upon my son instead of that garbage Santa nonsense.

I will tell Will that Christmas is about God and God’s son Jesus. He needs to know that an omnipotent being no one has ever seen or heard, lives up in the sky on the clouds with angels. And this God is always watching us, and judging us. He’s keeping tabs on all of us because if we’re “good” we’ll go to heaven where we can frolic with the angels among the white, puffy clouds. But if we’re “bad” (and let’s face it, “bad” can be anything from masturbating to being a homosexual) we will burn for all eternity in a fiery pit called hell, watched over by a red-skinned horned beast.

And it’s totally true that God was bored one day and just decided to create heaven and earth. And he did it all in six days, taking time to nap on the seventh. But one of his best creations was man, a man named Adam to be specific. And even though Genesis says God created Adam and Eve at the same time, Chapter 2 says it was just Adam. And then, in the first known game of “Operation,” God decided to take one of Adam’s ribs out and create a woman. Eve. But the two of them fucked it up for everyone because they listened to a talking snake and ate an apple they weren’t supposed to. No seriously, this is the truth.

But let’s get back to Christmas. You see, a woman named Mary was dating this guy named Joseph. And Joseph couldn’t have been too happy because Mary was a virgin. Yet despite never having sex with Joseph, she somehow became pregnant. And, since the proposition that Mary was a cheating whore is apparently out of the question, it became glaringly obvious that this was Immaculate Conception (or Annunciation, I can never keep them straight). Yup, that’s right. God raped impregnated an innocent woman with his seed, aka Jesus. This is the truth, I’m not making this up.

And we celebrate Christmas because that’s Jesus’ birthday (even though it’s widely speculated he was actually born April 17, 6 BC). Jesus was born in a manger and three strange men came to give him gold, frankincense and myrrh. Just what every baby needs right?

And this man went on to do great things. He could walk on water. I’m talking right on the surface without going under. And when he was done walking on the water — POOF — he turned it into wine. And my son needs to know the truth, that the only way to get to heaven is to go to church every Sunday and eat Jesus’ flesh and drink his blood. No, really. That’s the truth and those are the rules.

And speaking of the rules, don’t worry about remembering them all because they’re all listed in a book called the bible. And that book is TOTALLY truthful. It actually tells you exactly how to live your life as a morally upright citizen. For instance, it says a man shall not lay with another man or else it is considered an abomination and you will immediately be put to death. So take that you homos out there! But it’s not just the gays. Oh no no no. The bible actually calls for parents of disobedient and rebellious children to have their kids stoned to death by all the older men in town. How’s that for truth, mofo?!

For you girls out there, you should also know the bible says it’s OK for parents to sell their daughters into slavery. Furthermore, anyone working on the Sabbath should be put to death and any man with long hair is shameful. This, despite…well…

And even when they tried to kill Jesus, he wasn’t having it. Oh sure they thought they killed him, but three days later he ascended into Heaven and then reappeared to his followers. Totally true, he came back from the dead!

So there you have it. Screw that Santa crap. It is downright dangerous to lie to your kids about the existence of an all-knowing, all-powerful, omnipresent, supernatural being like Santa. We need to tell kids the truth. We need to tell children that an all-knowing, all-powerful, omnipresent, supernatural being called God knocked up a virgin on Earth and put his seed in her belly. And that seed turned into a magical little baby called Jesus who did so many great things, that even to this day millions of people feel the need to symbolically eat his flesh and drink his blood. We need to tell our kids that historical inaccuracies and impossibilities like the parting of seas, talking burning bushes and gigantic boats that carried pairs of the world’s 10 million species during a huge flood are just minor stumbling blocks that can be overcome by saying “Hey, it’s in the bible.”

Frankly, I’d rather make up good-natured stories about a jolly fat man dispensing joy around the world for one night a year than spin yarns about Creationism, severed ribs, people rising from the dead and nuking a whole city just because a few gay people lived there.

But in the end, I don’t see how perpetuating the Santa myth is any worse than spreading the absolute fairytale that is organized religion. At least with Santa there are presents and cookies involved. That beats eating human flesh blood and having to fork over 10 percent of my salary to God any day.

So Merry Christmas. And here’s to the “the truth.”