Jolly Old St. Nicholas

The second Sunday of Advent falls on December 6 this year; this is also the feast day of St. Nicholas. For any non-liturgical readers, a little background: Nicholas was the bishop of Myra, located in what is now Turkey, back in the fourth century. Nicholas is traditionally considered the patron saint of (among other groups) the poor, children, and pawnbrokers, all familiar entities at Southwood—toss in a few parolees and some slightly imperfect Lutherans and you pretty much have the whole Southwood community. He was known for leaving gifts for children and needy families, and was largely deep undercover until his generosity was discovered, and then celebrated, and he was finally made a saint by the Catholic Church. Our modern legends of Santa Claus are partially modeled after the legends about St. Nicholas, even to the point of referring to Santa Claus as St. Nicholas. At Southwood, St. Nick is our kind of guy.

Our Advent activities at Southwood usually involve a more liturgically based view of Advent as a time of preparation to receive Christ, the Savior, anew, to prepare our hearts to celebrate this most amazing gift from God. Today, Angela reads a story about a town preparing for Christmas, but without candy. At the end of the story, a candy shop is opened, and its first shipment contains boxes of candy canes. The candy shop owner shares the candy with the villagers, using the candy cane to illustrate important points of the Gospels: the cane can remind us of a shepherd’s crook, and that Jesus is our Good Shepherd; the cane can also be inverted to make a “J” shape, for “Jesus;” the white can remind us of his holiness, and the red stripes can remind us of the wounds by which we are healed.

Listening to the story, I’m appreciative of the way the symbolism is worked into a story rather than being presented as factual history; this is symbolism that has occurred to people after the features of the candy cane were developed for other, more mundane reasons. I think St. Nick (both of them) would approve.

Angela and Sandie, her daughter, have a craft prepared that will remind the kids of the day’s story. Sandie is very accomplished at all kinds of bead crafts, and has devised a candy cane craft using pipe cleaners and red and white plastic beads. Angela has brought candy canes for each child as an extra treat, so they crunch away in sticky happiness as they thread beads onto pipe cleaners.



While the kids crunch and craft, Angela and I discuss a problem that’s come up in the last couple of days.

In the spirit of St. Nicholas, a Christmas party is being planned for the kids at Southwood. All four of the Lutheran churches in the collective will have volunteers there; there will be cookies, a bounce house, and a visit from Santa. The children are on gift lists at other area churches, and there were preliminary plans to have Santa give out the gifts, but we learned late in the week that the churches handling the gifts want to give them out in a different way. What will Santa give out? You can't have a Santa that doesn't give you anything, especially not for these kids.

Taking our inspiration from St. Nicholas, we settle on stockings. Angela thinks candy and some healthy foods like crackers, fresh fruit, and nuts would be better than a lot of small toys or party favors, so we agree on just a few small toys, oranges and apples, cheese and cracker snacks, packages of nuts, candy, and maybe some fancy pencils to show off at school. We have a little money in the church’s Social Justice account, and there’s a local craft store with a wicked sale on velveteen stockings. We’re set.

We check off our Southwood Christmas list: gospel shared, check; residents ministered to, check; bounce house, check; cookies, check; Santa’s gift problem solved, check.

Later, Angela is in a crowded craft store, arms laden with several dozen stockings, when another customer asks her if she’s making things for a holiday craft sale. Angela tells her what the stockings are for, and about the kids at Southwood. “I’ve heard of the motel kids,” the woman says. “I’ve never been able to figure out what I could do about them.” She’s a quick study, though; she hands Angela ten dollars before she leaves the store, then turns around at her car, comes back into the store, and hands Angela ten dollars more.

St. Nick (both of them) would approve.