Lying to kids about Santa is something I’ve been thinking about in light of my realisation that my parents also lied to me about Jesus and God. I’m angry with them for the things they said about Jesus, but not about Santa. I guess that’s because belief in Santa never hurt me or anyone else, but I like to think of myself as a pursuant of truth, even when lies might be nicer.
I was probably about 10 years old when I stopped believing in Santa. My brothers and I were watching home videos of Christmases from when we were younger. After laughing at our three year old selves enjoying Christmas, we were shocked when a video came up that showed grandma taking our stockings filled with toys into our bedrooms. After watching this, my brother went straight to Grandma, very proud of himself for uncovering the mystery and revealing the truth.
I, on the other hand, was in denial. Surely Santa still brought the toys and Grandma was just helping him out. I felt the magic slipping away and I was very upset about it. Next Christmas, rather than trying to stay awake for Santa, I tried super hard to fall asleep quickly so that I would not see if someone other than Santa brought the presents. I did not want to know the truth. I held on to my belief in him, trying to rationalise his existence and figure out ways that the counter evidence could be wrong. It wasn’t until my parents dropped the charade that I finally accepted that Santa wasn’t real.
I feel like Christians do the same thing to try and preserve their belief in God. They shut their eyes and refuse to listen. They twist the counter-evidence. They dismiss challenges to their faith as mysteries. They give up on finding answers as God is beyond understanding. They value “faith” over intellect. They willingly blind themselves to the truth, just like a frightened child does.