To Santa or Not to Santa: A Catholic Reflection on Imagination, Lore, and Faith

Every year as Christmas approaches, Catholics begin to engage in a familiar debate: Should we “do” Santa Claus? Should a Catholic home welcome the jolly man in red, or is he merely a distraction from the sacred meaning of the Nativity? Some see him as an innocent, joyful part of childhood; others see him as a symbol of consumerism or a potential threat to a child’s trust in their parents. And, as with many things in Catholic culture, there is a truly split reaction.

This question has only seemed to intensify in recent years, with social media fueling strong opinions on both sides. But for me, this conversation isn’t abstract—it’s personal.

I grew up in a non-practicing Catholic home, where St. Nicholas wasn’t even a blip on my radar. I didn’t learn about him, his life, or his feast day until I was in my twenties. Yet we did have Santa Claus. We had the full experience: the cookies & milk, the stockings, the reindeer bait, and the presents magically appearing overnight. And somehow, despite Santa being part of my childhood, I went on to discover the Catholic faith, to love it, and to live it fully.

So when I hear the argument that “Santa harms faith,” or that he inevitably leads to confusion, I can’t help but think: That wasn’t my experience at all.

If I were to take a stance in this debate, I would say—wholeheartedly—that celebrating Santa can actually help cultivate faith.

Santa, Imagination, and the Development of Faith

When I look back on my childhood, Santa wasn’t a barrier to faith. He was a bridge—one that expanded my imagination, my sense of wonder, and my openness to “things unseen.”

Santa, along with the many other imaginative traditions my family engaged in, gave me the capacity to believe in truths that aren’t tangible. My imagination was encouraged to recognize that reality is deeper, richer, and more mysterious than what can be measured.

And isn’t that what faith is?

A belief in the unseen?

A trust in a reality beyond our senses?

Santa didn’t confuse me. He stretched my imagination. And that imaginative, whimsical stretching would later support my ability to perceive divine truths that cannot be touched or proven with scientific precision.

We, as Catholics, of all people, should understand the power of lore.

Catholicism Is a Faith Built on Story

Our tradition is filled with stories—thousands of years of them. Some are historical accounts. Others are hagiographies shaped by the spiritual minds of early Christians. Many saints’ lives include fantastical elements that, while perhaps not literal, convey a deeper truth about virtue, holiness, and God’s action in human lives.

We appreciate writers like C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien precisely because they understood that imagination is not opposed to truth—rather, it is one of its most powerful servants. They wrote in mythical realms with characters who ultimately reveal Christ, His virtues, and His love.

So the idea that Catholics should become “flat,” unidimensional, or hyper-literal about figures like Santa or even Halloween feels strangely disconnected from our own heritage. We love a good story—so why do we cringe when it comes to our own cultural folklore?

The “You’re Lying to Your Children” Concern

One of the most common objections among parents is that telling children Santa is real feels like lying. And I understand the sensitivity. Parents want to cultivate trust.

But here’s my honest reflection:

Never—not once—has Santa appeared on the list of topics I’ve brought to therapy.

The idea that believing in Santa somehow shatters a child’s trust assumes that children approach the world like miniature lawyers, carefully cataloging every statement for factual accuracy. But children approach the world through wonder. Through story. Through play.

I don’t think abandoning Santa is inherently harmful. But I do think refusing to engage with imagination out of fear of “lying” misunderstands the developmental world children inhabit. Children, unlike adults, live in a liminal space—between the concrete and the imaginative—and that space is fertile ground for faith.

Santa and St. Nicholas: A Both/And Approach

Of course, St. Nicholas is deeply and directly rooted in our Christian tradition. His generosity, courage, and devotion to Christ are powerful examples for families. Celebrating his feast day—setting out shoes, reading his stories, teaching about his life—is a rich and beautiful practice.

But why must it be either/or?

Why not both/and?

We can teach our children that the modern Santa has roots in St. Nicholas while also acknowledging that Santa has been shaped by a secular society that often misses the mark. We can draw from the good while rejecting the excesses.

Santa does not have to represent consumerism, bribery (“If you’re good you’ll get more presents”), or shallow morality and reward systems. Parents can reshape Santa within the home by emphasizing:

generosity

joy

kindness

celebration

creativity

self-giving love

Santa can become a character who inspires acts of charity and service—donating toys, baking for friends, giving away what we don’t need—rather than a dispenser of rewards.

Why Do We Let Society Define Him for Us?

This is the heart of my question:

Why do we let society take ownership of Santa?

Why do we surrender imagination, whimsy, and playful lore simply because the culture has distorted them?

It is easier, I suppose, to say, “We’re not doing Santa because he’s not real and I don’t want to lie.”

What’s harder is leaning into that messy, creative, imaginative space where stories and symbols become stepping stones to deeper truths. Where children learn through myths. Where joy leads to meaning. Where imagination nurtures faith.

What We Lose When We Lose Imagination

As adults, many of us have lost our sense of play. We forget how to create worlds, characters, rituals, and stories that shape the hearts and minds of our children. We underestimate how much imagination builds the capacity for faith.

When we strip away whimsy, we strip away a part of the soul.

And children need that whimsical space to grow in faith.

Santa doesn’t have to overshadow Christ.

He can point toward Him.

He can prepare a child’s heart for the God who is unseen yet powerfully present.

He can be a part of Catholic storytelling, not a competitor to it.

So, To Santa or Not to Santa?

Ultimately, each Catholic family must discern what aligns with their conscience and values. But for my part, I can say this:

Santa was a magical part of my child heart.

He didn’t hinder my faith—he expanded my imagination, my sense of wonder, and my openness to mystery.

And I believe he can do the same for many children today.

We don’t need to choose between truth and imagination because a good imagination will touch truth.

We can embrace both.

We can let lore speak truth.

We can celebrate St. Nicholas faithfully and still welcome Santa joyfully.

And maybe—just maybe—that imaginative space is where the seeds of faith take root most deeply.

I welcome your thoughts and opinions on the matter, feel free to leave them in the comments!