Those memories would not be possible, though, without St. Francis, who is credited with creating the first Nativity scene in 1223 in Greccio, Italy. Now, nearly 800 years later, his fellow Franciscan Brother Tim Sucher carries on that connection with the crèche. For Brother Tim, it started at the age of 3 and has continued to grow over the years. During that time, he has collected Nativity scenes from around the world, and every year he sets them up for people to see at St. Francis Seraph Parish and Friary in Cincinnati, Ohio. There is even a live Nativity outside in the church’s courtyard. You can see some of his collection of Nativity sets and read his story here.

For St. Francis, the Nativity scene represented a human connection with Christ. May it serve as a reminder to us today to be witnesses to the miracle of Christmas and what that means in our lives.

We hope you have a very blessed and joyous Christmas! 

We shouldn’t throw away God’s creation of the universe. In Genesis 1:31, it reads: “God looked at everything he had made, and he found it very good.” Indeed, all that God does is truly good. And among those good works are humans, animals, and plants. God is life itself, and we could argue that once God gives life, he would not destroy it.

Out of Love

Sometimes we think that God made us to love him. Yes, but that was not his first reason. We were made so that God could love us. Loving is what God does. Isn’t that why moms and dads have babies? It is not so the baby can love his or her parents.

Rather, it is because the parents have a new little person whom they can love. Out of love, God made us and gave us all of creation. God did that for our sake, so that we could consider how loving our God is.

The theology would hint that heaven and earth are not for God, but for God’s creatures. And, thus, animals that have been so loving and helpful to their owners would be there, too. Some Christians imagine an afterlife where we spend eternity loving and praising God. They say we don’t even need each other—just God. But that is so contrary to all that we know about God and his love and need for us. Aren’t parents most happy when their children are happy and loving one another?

What heaven is like is far beyond our wildest imaginations. Our call on our earthly journey is simply to know, love, and serve God as best we can. But what God has planned for us we cannot conceive.

A Prayer for Our Pets

Loving God,
St. Francis of Assisi showed us
that your family of creation extends
to the birds in the sky,
the fish in the sea,
the dog at my feet,
and the cat on my lap.
For their companionship,
I am grateful.
Because their love is unconditional,
I am humbled.
Thank you for animals, wild or tame
who bring color and warmth
to an often grey and cold world.
Amen.

Can a saint who died over 200 years ago have relevance for today? This author says yes as she imagines writing a heartfelt letter to Elizabeth Ann Seton, the first American-born saint. 

Dear Elizabeth Ann Seton,

This letter comes as a long-overdue message of gratitude. I feel as if I know you personally—through your writing—even though you died in 1821, two centuries ago. So I wonder if we can skip the formalities. May I use your father’s nickname for you, Betty (Bayley), or your beloved husband’s term of endearment, Eliza? Your fondness for nicknames for your children and friends is so endearing. My mother attached a nickname to me at birth—Buffy—though I am proud to say I also am an Elizabeth. 

Now to the point of my penning this letter: So many people owe you thanks for the amazing things you accomplished in your 46 years and for the legacy you left our nation and the world. I’m especially aware of the good works that continue in your name through the Sisters of Charity, which you founded. 

My gratitude, however, is more personal: Thank you for affirming that the way I have chosen to live has value, because I am trying to be what you were—a profoundly human saint. 

Since this is a letter, not a book, I will focus on a few values we share, ones that are essential to my life as a 21st-century Catholic woman. 

* * *

Both of us love and enjoy the arts. I know from your letters that as a young woman you were able to take coaches to the theater; you wrote that, on a Friday night: “I went thro’ all the storm with my sister to the Theatre.” I hear you: No storm will keep me from a performance at Playhouse in the Park or Ensemble Theatre here in Cincinnati. You write about meeting a friend at a concert, and you played piano at friends’ homes when you were invited to tea. One of my favorite scenes from your life as a young wife was your accompanying your husband, Will, on the piano as he played his violin for your children. As a teenager, you loved to dance. Even though I know you lived simply once you were “Mother” to religious women, I find it thrilling to realize that when you died, they found among your scant possessions your petite dancing shoes. (I bet Will was a dancer too!) A saint with secular interests is no contradiction; in my case, the arts have deepened my empathy for others. 

You were a voracious reader; you enjoyed the latest novels, and as a religious sister you read many works to guide your young community. You shared your love of books, and the books themselves, with your friends. Novels must have given you temporary respite from the challenges of raising your children. As a mother of three, I always made time to read when my girls were napping or in bed for the night. Now that they are adults with children of their own, I have the luxury of reading nightly from a favorite writer. Were you living today, you would love them for their stories and for their developed characters, who because they are human are not without their warts. 

Once you left New York to found a school and religious order in the hills near Emmitsburg, Maryland, you continued to read, but the novels gave way to more spiritual reading. You composed instructions for your sisters with ideas from classic texts such as The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola, the teachings of the Fathers of the Church and councils of the Church, and, most importantly, the Christian Scriptures. The French your father encouraged you to learn as a young lady came in handy when you had access to instructive writings in that language. 

It will be abundantly clear that I love your writing when I tell you I own four volumes of your work. Widowed myself when my daughters were teens, I feel certain that once William died and you had five young children to provide for, you physically ached with grief. Some of your writings are beautifully heartbreaking, especially entries about the deaths of Will, his sister Rebecca (your “soul’s sister”), and two of your daughters, Anna Maria and Rebecca. Like you, I prayed and wrote my way through grief as a young mother: letters, reflective essays, and even a book, in which I allowed myself to be vulnerable, sharing publicly what grieving looks and feels like. As your letters and journals lifted me up, so I hope my writing has been a gift to readers I may never meet. 

* * *

Like me, you also had an inner circle of close friends who were the lucky recipients of your frequent letters throughout your life. You cherished your friends Eliza Sadler and Julia Scott, as well as Antonio Filicchi, who was such a comfort to you at the time of Will’s death and beyond. You died too early to know of the poet Emily Dickinson, but I suspect you would love her quote: “My friends are my estate.” 

I enjoy following your written interactions with Eliza and Julia over the years. You and your friends were so open in proclaiming your love for one another. In a 1796 letter to Eliza, you write: “Do you not think that after all of the anxiety I have lately known on your account, I kissed the letter and placed it in my bosom, which told me you were quietly living among all the tumults which surround you. . . . Think of me as one who often thinks of you and who hopes not withstanding all the changes and chances, to meet you soon with the welcome of true affection.” 

Your letters kept you connected to your dear friends. Though you rarely had a chance to speak with them in person, your lives remained intertwined even as your paths diverged. Julia regularly sent $50 donations for you to use for your children or for expenses at the school and convent. In an 1812 letter to Julia that was typical of many, you write: “Your bountiful hand never closes, dear friend; the pleasure you must have in bestowing is very great I know, but I should have some hesitation in receiving . . . if the sickness of my dear ones had not obliged me to make many expenses.” 

Yet you and Julia never resolved the tensions around your devotion to your Catholic religion, which she described as “folly, madness, bigotry, superstition, etc., etc., etc.” Still, you end your letter with a blessing: “Well, dearest one, I carry you constantly in my heart before him who loved us, and so much more than any friend can love a friend—may he bless you, strengthen you, and make you truly pleasing to him, own dear friend of my heart.” 

How I need to read these lines often these days when my country—the country you loved when it was still in its infancy—is being racked by divisions that seem at times irreconcilable. But you, Elizabeth, held on to your friendship with Julia over the years, despite her negative judgment for what you held most dear, your Catholic faith. Thank you for reminding me that friendships can stay strong despite deep differences. 

* * *

I am so grateful to you for reinforcing my love for my family. From your days as a newlywed through the end of Will’s life, it was evident that Will cherished you and each child who came along to grace your growing family. He was especially close to his father and loved his family of origin, so much so that after his father died, you relinquished your routine of living in quiet with your small family “to become at once the mother of six children and the head of so large a number.” You and Will brought his six younger half-brothers and sister into your home to live with the two of you and your two children, a sudden household of 10. It shows your love and generosity, especially since the time was near for the birth of your third child. 

Even as you became “Mother Seton” to your community of women religious, you remained a devoted mother to your children. In Maryland, your two boys resided for a time at nearby Mount St. Mary’s College in Emmitsburg, and your three daughters lived with you at the school and convent in St. Joseph’s Valley. Your letters to Eliza and Julia make it clear that even as you doted on your children, you worried about their physical and spiritual health. When they were away from you, you were faithful in writing to them, each letter a mix of practical and spiritual encouragement: 

To Anna Maria: “Be sure my dearest Ann, go to him your Father, your friend, your refuge, your All.” 

To William: “Your Birth day!—You know your Mother’s heart. Be blessed a thousand thousand times—take a few little moments in the church to say in union with your Mother’s heart to place yourself again and again in the hands of God—do my dearest one.” 

To Richard: “Our God will do all for you, but you must and shall be good. And your little Mother will fight all your battles till you are able to fight ours, dear Goliath of my heart.” 

To Catherine: “Whose Birth day is this, my dear Saviour. It is my darling one’s, my child’s, my friend’s. . . . Every time the clock strikes I bless and pray for you.” 

To Rebecca: “Be good is all Mother can say—Annina says it too.” 

Your love for your children, especially as a single parent, is beautifully summed up in Dear Remembrances, a memoir you wrote about 10 years before your death. In it you reviewed your life from age 4 until the time of your writing: joys, regrets, painful memories. My favorite remembrance captures a sweet memory of your family after Will’s death: “Now my entrance with my darlings in our little dear humble dwelling—their tender doting love to their own Mother—my Anna, William, my Richard, my Kit and sweetest Bec, at the moment yet with what delight I look at the hours of love around our fire, or little table or at the piano, our stories every evening, lively tunes, and thousand endearments after the lessons, and work of the day when each one helped dear Mother.” 

* * *

On the day of your canonization as the first saint born in  the United States, I happily anticipated the well-deserved attention your remarkable life would receive. But the title saint is not without its drawbacks. Of course, one must have died to be declared a saint, but sometimes the saints’ stories become little more than predictable facts in a volume such as the one I read as a child, Butler’s Lives of the Saints. Some of these don’t do justice to you as a saint who, like Jesus, was not only deeply spiritual but also profoundly human. Every time I open the volumes of your letters and journals, I reconnect—spiritually and humanly—with you more deeply than in previous readings. 

I will end this letter of gratitude with a final thank-you for all that makes you a role model for me. Thanks especially for often reminding me to find grace in the present moment, something I aspire to every day, as I imitate you in my goal of being both holy and profoundly human. 

Ever yours, 
EBB  

Elizabeth Ann Seton (1774–1821) 

Mother Seton is one of the keystones of the American Catholic Church. She founded the first American religious community for women, the Sisters of Charity. She opened the first American parish school and established the first American Catholic orphanage. All this she did in the span of 46 years while raising her five children. 

Elizabeth Ann Bayley Seton is a true daughter of the American Revolution, born August 28, 1774, just two years before the Declaration of Independence. At 19, Elizabeth was the belle of New York and married a handsome, wealthy businessman, William Magee Seton. They had five children before his business failed and he died of tuberculosis. At 30, Elizabeth was widowed and penniless, with five small children to support. While in Italy with her dying husband, Elizabeth witnessed Catholicity in action through family friends. After returning to the United States, she became a Catholic in March 1805. 

To support her children. she opened a school in Baltimore. From the beginning, her group followed the lines of a religious community, which was officially founded in 1809. 

Mother Seton’s letters reveal the development of her spiritual life. She suffered great trials of sickness, misunderstanding, the death of her husband and two young daughters, and the heartache of a wayward son. She died January 4, 1821, and became the first American-born citizen to be canonized (in 1975). She is buried in Emmitsburg, Maryland. 

A Franciscan therapist offers practical tips rooted in prayer to help ease our anxiety.

Between the Russo-Ukrainian War, the COVID-19 pandemic, and other personal issues in our lives, the past few years have been quite a challenge. Whether or not you have been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, I am sure you can relate to feelings of anxiety. 

Anxiety can present itself in many ways, such as increased worry, difficulty sleeping, finding yourself more exhausted, and maybe indulging in more food than usual. We’ve seen an increase in anxiety, especially in the past two years. I don’t know about you, but mine has gone up, even though I take medication for an anxiety disorder. 

So, what can we do about it? How can we face these challenges in a way that can decrease our anxiety? I am going to offer you a way to do that. I call it the Three Rs: Recognize, Reframe, and Repeat. Note that this approach is not evidence-based or peer-reviewed. It comes from my own personal experience with an anxiety disorder and my clinical background. 

Before we get into the Three Rs, I need to give you some context. Let’s start with me. I am a Capuchin Franciscan priest ministering in Detroit, Michigan, a licensed clinical social worker, and someone who suffers from generalized anxiety disorder (GAD). For the past 10 years, I have spent many days diving into my anxiety disorder and trying to find ways, beyond taking medication, to deal with my increased anxiousness. 

GAD affects every element of your life. Whether it is work, home life, family life, community, or extracurricular activities, anxiety plays a role. Often it looks like replaying in your head conversations you have had or are yet to have. It also can come about when you have a project to finish. Your mind takes control, and you fear that you are not going to get it done in time or that it is not going to be good enough. 

Having an anxiety disorder can also affect your mood and self-esteem. You can at times feel sad because you don’t think you handled something well, or you can feel overwhelmed because you have too many things on your plate. Sleep can be challenging because, when you lay your head down, all the worries and challenges of the day flood into your mind like a dam breaking open. This is all to say that I understand what life with anxiety is like. I live it every day. 

I am a professional therapist, and with that comes a wealth of knowledge around a variety of social theories. The Three Rs are impacted by this knowledge. I won’t go into great detail, but I am drawing from both cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT). 

CBT focuses on how we process our thoughts and works to change behaviors that are impacted by our thoughts. For example, if you think, I am bad at tests, then you will probably do poorly on the next test you take. CBT can help change that. 

MBCT uses mindfulness, a Buddhist practice that helps an individual focus on the present. Think of it this way: If you are feeling anxious, which may cause rapid breathing, you take some time to focus on your breath. This very action will help to reduce your rapid breathing and then your anxiety. 

With this background information in place, let’s get to the more practical application of these theories. The Three Rs strategy consists of Recognize, Reframe, and Repeat. Let’s start with Recognize.

Recognize.

Being a Capuchin Franciscan has exposed me to the rich writings of Franciscans from the past 800 years. St. Clare of Assisi has had a strong impact on my spirituality, particularly because of her devotion to the Eucharist. In her early writings, she often talks about the concept of gazing. St. Clare shared with all she could the power of gazing into the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. In her last words, she was recorded saying: “Gaze upon him, consider him, contemplate him, as you desire to imitate him. . . . Totally love him, who gave himself totally for your love.” What a powerful way to reflect on the real presence of our Lord! 

Can’t we take this same gaze and turn it to our thoughts? And even take it a step further, where we not only gaze but also acknowledge or, as I put it, Recognize. To recognize is to see fully with eyes and heart, to understand, to encounter, but most of all to accept. To recognize does not take in the polarity of good and evil; it simply is. When you are asked to recognize the thought, the anxiety that you are feeling, I am simply asking you to recognize the thought for what it is. 

Let’s say I am preparing for a presentation. Every time I think about the presentation, I get anxious because I keep thinking that I am not a great public speaker. To recognize means that I accept the thought for what it is: I feel anxious because I don’t think I am a great public speaker. I do my best to remove any negative feelings I have about this thought and simply allow the thought to rest in my mind. I let all other thoughts out of my mind, welcome the thought to the table, and sit with it. 

This is where our Christian faith comes in. Why don’t we take a moment and welcome Jesus to the table? For this situation, I would invite Jesus to help me to recognize the statement. Allow yourself to sit in the moment with the thought before you decide to take the next step. 

Another example of Recognize could be that you just got a promotion at work, and your boss calls you into his or her office. And all you can think is, Oh no, what did I do wrong? Your anxiety builds. You allow the thought to come to the forefront instead of pushing it down. You begin the recognition stage by sitting with the phrase What did I do wrong? You remove any feelings that you have around it and simply sit with it. 

You invite Jesus to the table, and you clear your mind of all the other thoughts. You simply “gaze” into it, letting it be. Draw all your attention to that phrase, look at each word closely, and let the words rest in your mind. Try to remove all judgment or rationale, and simply allow the statement to be just that—a statement with no extras attached to it. Then, when you are ready, enter the next phase, which is to Reframe. 

Reframe.

Reframing is a common tool that is used by therapists, especially with CBT. Reframing is basically what it sounds like: You take the thought you have and try to change the perspective. It is like changing the frame of a picture to match others or make different elements stand out. Let’s go back to the earlier example. You say to yourself before the presentation, “I am not a great public speaker.” With Reframe, you change the statement to make it less anxiety-provoking or to avoid pointing out a particular flaw. You may change it to, “Lots of people struggle with public speaking.” 

This phrase does a couple of things. First, it takes the focus completely off you and puts it on the community at large. Saying that others struggle with this allows you to see that you are not alone in your feelings. This can help to alleviate some anxiety. It also neutralizes the statement so that it doesn’t have a negative or positive emotion attached to it. You are basically stating a fact. Facts are neither good nor bad; they are simply neutral information. And in this case, the fact is true. Lots of people, even celebrities, struggle with public speaking. By reframing, you take the thought that intensifies your anxiety and make it into a phrase that will hopefully decrease your anxiety. 

So, what about Jesus? Remember how you invited Jesus to sit with you at the table? What if you ask Jesus to help you reframe? Or reframe it from Jesus’ perspective. Remember “WWJD,” that catchphrase that was so popular in the late ’90s? Ask yourself: What would Jesus do? How would Jesus reframe this? What would he say? He might say: “Public speaking made me nervous too. Don’t worry. We got this.” 

In my head, Jesus always adds a comforting message. You are probably asking yourself, Did Jesus really get nervous when he spoke publicly? We don’t know. Why not see if it helps you to manage your fear of public speaking? Remember these are practices that we do in our heads, and they usually don’t last very long. The more you practice, probably the faster you will get at it. 

Let’s look at the other example, “What did I do wrong?” Take a few minutes and think about how you would reframe this. How would Jesus reframe the statement? 

Repeat.

The last step is Repeat, which is honestly the most challenging because it requires you to re-encounter a potentially difficult space multiple times. Many people would prefer to just think of something and then move on. But for negative thoughts and trauma, it is going to take more than one time. This is especially the case for those thoughts that are deeply rooted in your mind. 

Most of us remember the adage, “Practice makes perfect.” Practice does make perfect. The more you practice steps one and two (Recognize and Reframe), the better you become at using those techniques when you are faced with an anxiety-provoking situation. Think about when your doctor provides you with medical advice about a particular health problem. Do you think that doctors pull that information from their heads on the spot? They draw from their experience, medical knowledge, and their familiarity with your case. It’s the same with this process. The more we engage with these steps, the more comfortable we become using them. So, Repeat, Repeat, Repeat! 

A Real-Life Example

Let’s walk through these steps with an example. The other day when I was at work, I said hello to one of my staff members. She gave me one of those fake smiles and kept walking. I immediately thought, Oh my gosh, that person is mad at me. I spent several minutes thinking over the past couple hours and days, reviewing our conversations to see if there was a sign to indicate that I made her upset. 

Then I thought: Let’s use the Three Rs. Step one: Recognize. I sat with the phrase She must be mad at me because she didn’t say hi to me when I said hello. I sat with each word, and the ones that stuck out were “She, Mad, Me, Hello.” So, I thought to myself, How do I let this simply be instead of feeling like a horrible boss because I made an employee upset? I just let the statement be. “This person is mad at me.” Then I invited Jesus into the conversation, asking, “Jesus, do you see anything?” A thought surfaced: Are you sure she is mad at you? Jesus had a point. She could just be having a bad day, and it may have nothing to do with me. I could have just left it there, but I am pretty sure that would not help with my anxiety about the situation. 

I moved to the next step, Reframe. How can I reframe this? Well, let’s look at what Jesus said, “Are you sure she is mad at you?” People carry all sorts of things in their minds, so it is possible that this person was just thinking about something else that made her upset. It may have nothing to do with me. A possible reframe here would be, “It seems that this person is upset about something.” 

What I did here is remove the blame and simply state a fact. The person was upset. We saw this when she gave me a fake smile. So, I have taken out all of the negative feelings attached to the statement and simply made it a fact. By doing this, I am helping my anxiety about the situation to decrease. This way, when I see my employee later, I can simply say: “Hey, I noticed you were not very happy earlier. Everything OK? Can I help?” 

Then I repeat and simply keep going through the process, maybe diving deeper each time, to help decrease any feelings of anxiety. The more I enter into this conversation, the more I will learn about myself. For instance, why did I think my employee’s reaction was about me? Or, does she often seem upset? This process gives us time to work through that thought that started it all: She is mad at me. Try this the next time you are feeling anxious. The process is rather simple—just Three Rs. 

Recognize, Reframe, Repeat: three Rs to help you deal with your daily anxiety. The beauty of this process is that it can work for any person who experiences anxiety—a parent, partner, friend, sibling, boss, coworker, or anyone in your life. 

You don’t need a psychologist or a social worker to do this, though it may help to bring this process to therapy to talk about how it went. Next time you feel anxious, or any strong emotion, simply look at the thought (Recognize) with Jesus, see how you can reexamine the statement to remove some of the strong emotion (Reframe), and then do it again the next time it comes up (Repeat). 

And remember: Jesus is always with you. Just ask for help. 

Brother Tim Sucher, OFM, has loved Nativity scenes since he was a small child. Now he has amassed a collection of over 100 crèches from all over the world.

At this time of year, Nativity scenes are not hard to find, whether they be a live Nativity—with sheep, donkeys, and goats—or a small set displayed at home. Around the world, these representations of Jesus’ birth go by many names, including nacimientos in Mexico, presepios in Italy, and a multitude of variations that reflect their culture of origin. The word crèche comes from Old French and means “crib” or “manger.” However, crèche and Nativity scene have essentially become interchangeable in everyday use. 

The whole notion of Nativity scenes dates back to 1223, when a certain Poor Man of Assisi sought to place the focus of Christmas celebrations squarely on the birth of Jesus, not on material things. Nativities quickly became popular across Italy and beyond, and by the time a century had passed from the original Nativity scene at Greccio, nearly every Italian Catholic church featured one during Christmastime. 

Over time, the popularity of crèches grew and spread throughout Europe and, eventually, the Americas, Africa, and Asia. Over time, people began displaying smaller Nativity scenes in their homes, typically placing them on mantels or at the base of the family Christmas tree. The materials used in a crèche often reveal much about the culture where it was created. 

Wherever a crèche comes from and whatever the backstory, they all have a common denominator: celebrating the birth of Christ. The following images come from the annual display of Nativity scenes at St. Francis Seraph Church in Cincinnati, Ohio, an event coordinated by Brother Tim Sucher, OFM. Brother Tim’s growing collection is a testament to both their popularity and, more importantly, the hope and excitement we share as we celebrate the arrival of the Messiah. 

A Lifelong Love of Crèches 

The fascination with Nativity scenes begins for many early on in life, as witnessed by Brother Tim Sucher, OFM, who has collected around 100 crèches over the years. Some are scenes that he purchased, while others are gifts from parishioners and others wishing to add to the festive array. But it all started with one Nativity set (shown on page 28), which he and his brother saved up for and purchased when he was only 3 years old. With his mother in the hospital at the time, Brother Tim and his brother spent the holidays with their grandmother, whose own Nativity set inspired them to find one to add to the family collection. 

“The appeal of crèches is very much alive,” Brother Tim says. “One woman told me that the reason she brought her daughters [to see the display] was so that they could know the true meaning of Christmas before they went shopping. I believe people are looking for meaning and a sense of peace, especially during the hectic holiday season.” Celebrating the birth of a child is an aspect of Nativity scenes that all can relate to, says Brother Tim, including visitors from non-Christian backgrounds. “This joy is enhanced when the child that is born is our Lord and Savior Jesus,” he says. 

Rooted in St. Francis’ first celebration nearly 800 years ago, Nativities continue to inspire and remind Brother Tim of the connection between crèches and the Franciscan charism. “At the center of St. Francis’ spirituality was the Incarnation, God becoming one of us,” Brother Tim explains. “As a result of this, all of creation experienced the love and mercy of God. All of creation was elevated to a new reality, in that, through Jesus, the entire created world reflects the love, mercy, and majesty of God. This is at the heart of Franciscanism.” It also happens to be at the heart of the Christmas season.

_{Photography by Tracie Maglosky}

Saint Nicholas’ life is one of history and mystery.

If there’s one thing I have learned about being a parent, it’s that nothing is easy—not even things that are supposed to be. I was reminded of that last December when my nine-year-old daughter, Maddie, suddenly took an interest in the logistics of celebrating Saint Nick.

“Mom, can I ask you a question?” she said, as we were hanging our stockings “by the chimney with care.”
“Sure,” I said.
“We learned in school that you have to be dead to be a saint. So if he’s dead, how does Saint Nick deliver gifts to us? Is it his ghost?”

Wow, theology by a third-grader. Her five-year-old brother, Alex, screamed. I panicked and tried to think of a logical, pastoral and quick answer. How do I explain my way out of this one without blowing the charade for the youngest two? I wondered. Not to mention I wasn’t totally sure whether or not Maddie comprehended the implications of her question.

So I quickly gathered my composure and did what any self-respecting parent does in moments like this—I distracted them and then I got to work researching this saint who inspired, but all too often plays runner-up to Santa Claus.

Santa’s Predecessor

Saint Nicholas lived in Myra, a city in the province of Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey) during the fourth century. His parents died when he was a teenager and left him with quite a bit of money. Nicholas then went to live with his uncle, who was a priest.

At some point, Nicholas became aware of a man who had three daughters, but no money to pay their dowries so they could be married. On three separate occasions, Nicholas secretly tossed a bag of gold into the girls’ stockings hanging by the fire, thus providing them their dowries. On the third night, the father caught Nicholas delivering the gold. Nicholas asked the father not to tell anyone about what he had done.

Eventually, Nicholas became the bishop of Myra. He continued performing generous acts, and had a special affinity for children, sailors and those who were falsely accused.

What about those traditions always associated with Saint Nick, such as oranges and candy canes? Well, the oranges are an adaptation of the bag of gold that Nicholas threw into the young women’s stockings. And, according to many stories, candy canes are supposed to represent crosiers, or bishop’s staffs, as bishops are the shepherds for God’s people.

Over time, as word of Saint Nicholas’s charity and giving spread, the concept of secretly giving gifts to others grew and took on a life of its own. As people traveled to new lands, they took the concept of the saintly gift-giver with them. Over time, Saint Nicholas transformed into our modern-day Santa Claus.

Ways to Celebrate Saint Nick

With all the information I had collected, I sat the kids down and regaled them with the tales of Saint Nicholas. We talked about ways to live out and honor his example.

Later that evening, as I tucked them into bed and made my way downstairs to fill up their stockings, I said a small prayer of thanks to Saint Nicholas for his giving spirit and loving example. And then I added a small prayer of thanks that my kids seemed to have forgotten about the ghosts of long-passed saints entering our home to deliver gifts.

Here are a few ideas to help your family celebrate this generous saint’s feast on the evening before December 6: Extend the celebration. Saint Nicholas wanted his gift-giving to be done in secret—and not to last just one night. Make an effort to surprise members of your family with special gifts or thoughtful acts throughout the holiday season—just to brighten their day.

Show Saint Nick some love. Make as big a deal about Saint Nick as you do Santa Claus. Talk about the differences and similarities between the two.

For Teens: In the Spirit of Saint Nick

Throughout his life, Saint Nicholas spent a great deal of time and effort caring for those in need. We can emulate that example in our own lives. And while we should remember to help those in need throughout the year, the holidays seem to be a perfect time to show others that we care.

Gather a group of your friends and come up with a project with which you can demonstrate caring for others. For instance, make blankets for children at a local hospital. (You can find easy instructions for making no-sew fleece blankets on the Internet.) Or hold a Christmas caroling party and collect donations for a local charity. The ideas are endless.

For Kids: Play Saint Nick

Saint Nicholas wanted his gift-giving to be done in secret. Try to be like Saint Nick and ask an adult to help you prepare small stockings to surprise friends or family members. Try to include items that will remind the person of Saint Nick, such as candy canes, oranges or even a small bag of gold-covered chocolate coins. Try to deliver them without being caught!