Kris Kringle

Text by Kameron Bryant

FFather Christmas, St. Nick, Santa Claus, Kris Kringle— no matter the moniker, we all know the plump gift-giver these names refer to. And likely, we also know that our modernday, commercialized Santa Claus is based on the memory and esteem of a real bishop from the third century with a penchant for secret gift-giving. But what about Kris Kringle? How did that name turn up on our list of nicknames for the reindeer-herding man in red who only appears on Christmas Eve? Protestantism and Martin Luther is the short answer, but to dig a bit deeper, we have to look back at Saint Nicholas. St. Nicholas—patron saint of a very long list of people (including sailors, children, travelers and merchants) and of Greece and Russia—is known for his generosity, protection and working miracles. His prominence in the Russian Orthodox Church is so profound that there is the Russian proverb: “If God were to die, at least we would still have St. Nicholas.” Venerated for good deeds such as leaving bags of gold so a poor man’s daughters would not be sold into slavery and for performing wonders like resurrecting three murdered boys, the reverence afforded to St. Nicholas in Catholic and Orthodox traditions goes far beyond Christmas celebrations depicting a jolly fat man. But over time, the celebrations on his Dec. 6 feast day (some countries celebrate on Dec. 5) focused more on St. Nicholas’s gift-giving, particularly for children. It became a time to give children small gifts and sweets like chocolate coins or oranges, and the image of St. Nicholas began to shift, taking on aspects of European gods who could fly and had long white beards. But during the Protestant Reformation in the 1500s, Christmas and St. Nicholas’s popularity took a major turn. Catholic traditions were rejected and discarded. Elevating certain days like Christmas and the feast days of saints was seen as one step away from idol worship at best and worship according to the “suggestions of Satan” at worst. In some countries, celebrating these days was officially banned, and

those who refused to comply could see heavy fines. Martin Luther also took issue with the celebrations of St. Nicholas. For someone trying to lead people as far away from Catholicism as possible, celebrating St. Nicholas felt a little too close to deifying the saint for comfort. But instead of taking the extreme stance that some of his fellow reformers did, Luther attempted to modify the reason for the season by bringing people’s attention back to baby Jesus and away from St. Nicholas. Luther introduced the term “Christkind,” German for “Christ child.” Intended to be a reference to the incarnation of Christ, the Christ Child was promoted as the true bringer of gifts instead of St. Nicholas, and He appeared on Christmas Eve instead of the saint’s feast day. Luther’s gift-giving Christ child was meant to symbolize fundamental Christian truths without stripping away the fun for kids—the incarnation was a gift from God that made salvation possible, which is the ultimate gift from God to humanity and the real reason to celebrate. Somewhere around the 1830s and 1840s, Christkind was altered to “Kris Kringle,” and the name was popularized by the lead character in the 1947 Christmas film Miracle on 34th Street. The original film, outlining the story of a man called Kris Kringle who claims to be Santa Claus (and of course, he is the real Santa Claus), won three Academy Awards and was deemed so culturally significant that it was chosen for preservation by the National Film Registry. It’s a bit ironic that Kris Kringle, starting out as Martin Luther’s and his followers’ attempt to focus Christmastime celebrations on Jesus and the gift of His presence on earth, still managed to come full circle and morph back into a mystical version of St. Nicholas. It just goes to show that sometimes people cannot be swayed by shifting religious beliefs. Tradition, and perhaps a little bit of magic, wins.