Santa, Father Christmas and the Paradox of Faith: Folklore, Power and the Meaning of Christmas

An analysis of Santa Claus, Father Christmas and December 25, exploring how folklore, power and commerce reshaped Christian tradition and blurred the line between faith and culture (image source)

HARARE — Santa Claus, as he is known today, did not descend from heaven wrapped in red cloth, nor does Father Christmas emerge from Scripture. Both figures are products of history, culture and power, reshaped over centuries until folklore blurred into faith and symbolism eclipsed substance.

The modern image of Santa Claus took shape during the Victorian era, when England’s Father Christmas—an embodiment of festive cheer—merged with the legend of Saint Nicholas of Myra, a fourth-century Christian bishop remembered for discreet acts of generosity. This fusion coincided with industrialisation, urbanisation and social upheaval in Britain and America. Christmas, once a modest religious observance, was reimagined as a family-centred, gift-giving season that soothed social anxieties and stimulated consumption. Artists such as Thomas Nast, followed by commercial advertisers, fixed Santa’s now-universal image: the red suit, white beard and genial authority. What began as allegory and charity evolved into a global cultural icon—arguably more recognisable than the biblical figure whose birth Christmas purports to celebrate.

The paradox is stark. Neither Santa Claus nor Father Christmas appears in the Bible. No Gospel references a gift-bearing figure visiting children, nor does Scripture hint at a North Pole workshop. Their power lies not in divine command but in repetition, ritual and emotional imprinting.

The Bible itself urges caution toward tradition. Jesus warns against nullifying God’s word through inherited customs (Mark 7:13), while the apostle Paul encourages believers to test teachings rather than accept them uncritically (Colossians 2:8). These admonitions do not reject culture outright, but they challenge believers to distinguish between divine instruction and human construction.

Even Christmas raises deeper questions. Despite being the most celebrated day in the Christian calendar, neither December 25 nor December 26 is identified in Scripture as the birth date of Yahushua (Jesus). The Bible offers no command to mark his birth annually, nor does it assign a date. Early Christians focused primarily on his death and resurrection, which are explicitly commemorated in Scripture (Luke 22:19; 1 Corinthians 11:24).

Many scholars argue that Yahushua was unlikely to have been born in December. Luke 2:8 describes shepherds living in the fields at night—an implausible scenario during Judea’s cold, rainy winters. This has led researchers to suggest a spring or early autumn birth. Others point to the Roman census mentioned in Luke 2:1–3, noting that mass travel was unlikely to be ordered in mid-winter. The reign of King Herod the Great, who died around 4 BCE, further suggests a birth between 6 and 4 BCE—well outside the December 25 tradition.

Historians widely acknowledge that December 25 coincided with Roman pagan festivals, including Sol Invictus, which celebrated the “birth of the unconquered sun.” Aligning Christ’s birth with existing observances was a strategic move by early church and imperial authorities seeking cohesion within the Roman Empire. It was an act of governance rather than revelation.

The implications extend beyond theology to power and economics. Institutions—religious and political—have long understood the influence of ritual and narrative. The Bible warns that the love of money can corrupt moral purpose (1 Timothy 6:10). Today, Christmas fuels one of the world’s most intense consumer cycles, often pushing families into debt and anxiety. For many, reflection has given way to pressure and comparison.

Colonialism further shaped this legacy. European missionaries exported Christmas to Africa and Asia as part of a broader cultural package, presenting December 25 as divinely ordained while obscuring its political and economic origins. Ironically, European elites benefited most from the commercialisation that followed. Even modern Pentecostal movements, despite their emphasis on biblical literalism, have largely retained Christmas traditions—aware of their social cohesion and economic utility.

This does not render generosity misplaced or remembrance of Christ meaningless. The issue is confusion. When folklore is mistaken for faith and consumption replaces contemplation, believers risk inheriting tradition without understanding. Christianity calls for discernment: “Test all things; hold fast what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21).

Santa and Father Christmas belong to culture. Christ belongs to faith. The danger lies in forgetting the difference.