A vicar in the town where I live has caused huge upset and landed himself in the national press for bowling into a primary school and announcing to the startled, and subsequently very upset, kids that Father Christmas doesn't exist.
What on earth possessed the man?! I bet he's keeping his head down and staying firmly out of sight in the vicarage right now. It appears the teachers had no idea of what he intended to say and are as miffed as the parents.
I've long had a detached relationship with the church and it's episodes such as this that further confirm that detachment. I appreciate it must get right up the clergy's nose that Christmas has become, for the vast majority, a consumer frenzy with the focus on the presents under the tree, drinking way too much and eating so much that it's hard to get into anything not involving strong elastic in January.
This offending vicar probably only meant to try to emphasise to the children the real meaning of Christmas in his eyes but handled it badly and ended up with a PR nightmare at his church steps. Bet there'll be even fewer bums on the pews in his parish this Christmas morning.
Christmas is different things to different people. To my religious friends, it's the birth of Christ. To me it's a winter festival. To little kids, it's about anticipation, excitement and presents. It's a magical time and each family creates their own traditions, ways of celebrating and memories that are precious to them.
Little kids have plenty of time to decide if they want to believe in God or not. Surely the magical story of Father Christmas can sit comfortably alongside the story of Jesus's birth?
It's such a short time that parents have to see the wonder and magic of Christmas in their children's eyes before they work out the truth. I can still remember clearly the horrible moment when I found out that Father Christmas was in fact my slightly sozzled dad, when a friend and I managed to stay awake late and heard our dads come stumbling and giggling into our room to fill our stockings.
I know, as a parent, I wanted to prolong the magic of the sheer possibility of Father Christmas, his reindeer and the elves for as long as possible when my boys were young. I loved everything about the Christmas traditions we created as a family, the sending of the letters up the chimney to Father Christmas, the whisky and mince pies left on the hearth on Christmas Eve, the sooty footprints that he left after his visit that they found on Christmas morning.
It's only this year, when they are 18 and 12, that we've agreed finally to move the stockings from their rooms to the sitting room as setting my alarm for 3am to ensure they were asleep before I crept in, as I've done the last few years, was, even to this Christmas addict, somewhat mad.
I have no problem with Christians putting Jesus at the centre of Christmas even though he's not at the centre of mine. I went along with the whole Nativity story when my boys were little even though I don't for a minute buy into the baby in a manger story, but I respect those who do. I wanted my boys to be exposed to all the traditions and stories of Christmas.
The Church of England wonders why it is having a hard time reaching people nowadays. Episodes like this bumbling vicar should give them a clue.
Merry Christmas!
