A few weeks ago, I was wandering through Bachman’s, and you will not believe what happened. In the aisle with the grass seed and pest spray, I met Santa.
Oh, he was in street clothes, but he was unmistakable with his big, bushy white beard and twinkling eyes. You might not know this, but Santa has a little dog, tucked in his arm as he browsed the aisles.
I smiled at him and said, “You’re Santa, aren’t you?”
“Yes indeed, I am,” he replied.
We chatted for a few minutes, and I don’t want to disrupt the wonder, so I’m not going to tell you what we talked about. Conversations with Santa are, after all, confidential.
Yes, I still believe in Santa. I believe in the goodness of generosity, the wonder and the magic that live in him.
Every year as December begins, we find ourselves surrounded by familiar signs of the season: neighborhoods glowing with lights, children rehearsing holiday concerts, stores stocking everything from peppermint bark to poinsettias.
Amid this early winter flurry sits a quieter, older celebration — one that has shaped our imaginations far more than most of us realize: the Feast of St. Nicholas, observed on Dec. 6.
For many people, St. Nicholas appears only in the shadows of childhood memories — perhaps shoes filled with candies, coins left mysteriously on a windowsill, or stories about a kindly bishop who became the model for Santa Claus. But the feast day, and the saint behind it, carries a depth of meaning that speaks powerfully to our own time.
In an era marked by anxiety, division and fatigue, the example of St. Nicholas offers a gentle reminder that compassion, justice and generosity are not only virtues of the past. They are necessities for the present.
A life rooted in compassion
Bishop St. Nicholas of Myra lived in the fourth century in a coastal city in Lycia (now Demre, Turkey). Much of his life is wrapped in legend — something true of many early Christian saints.
These legends persist not because they’re fanciful, but because they reveal something true. In Nicholas’s case, it was that he lived simply, acted decisively and cared deeply for those in need.
The most famous story tells of a poor man with three daughters who lacked dowries. In Bishop Nicholas’s time, that meant the daughters had no prospects for marriage, and therefore no hope of stability or security.
Quietly, under the cover of night, Nicholas tossed three bags of gold through the family’s window — or, depending on the version, down the chimney — so the daughters might have a hopeful future. From this humble act of secret generosity, some trace the tradition of Christmas gift-giving and even the iconic image of Santa slipping down chimneys.
But Bishop Nicholas’s love was not limited to individual acts of kindness. He was also remembered as an advocate for justice. In one story, he intervened to save three innocent men from execution after corrupt officials sought to condemn them. Moved by compassion and a strong sense of right and wrong, he exposed the injustice and secured their freedom — worth remembering as many fear that immigrant neighbors will be unjustly targeted.
A patron for ordinary people
St. Nicholas became widely beloved over the centuries not because he occupied a high church office, but because he cared for ordinary people: sailors, orphans, the falsely accused, the hungry. He became a symbol of practical kindness — someone who saw suffering and did something about it.
In many European countries, his feast day is still celebrated with small gifts left in shoes, parades through town squares and charitable acts carried out in his honor. These customs emphasize simplicity. The gifts are modest, and the focus is on gratitude rather than extravagance.
The point is not to impress, but to delight; not to accumulate, but to share.
For communities today — whether religious or secular — the Feast of St. Nicholas invites reflection on how small acts of generosity can change lives. His legacy is less concerned with grand gestures and more with everyday opportunities to lift one another up.
What St. Nicholas offers our modern world
The Feast of St. Nicholas arrives during a season already overflowing with busyness: crowded calendars, year-end deadlines, travel plans, family expectations and consumer pressures.
Amid all this, St. Nicholas invites us to slow down and remember what generosity truly means.
Bishop Nicholas’s gifts were offered quietly, without expectation of recognition. In a world that often equates value with visibility — likes, followers, headlines — his legacy reminds us that the most meaningful acts usually happen without applause.
A handwritten note to someone going through a hard time.
A meal delivered to a neighbor recovering from surgery.
A donation made anonymously to a struggling organization.
At its core, generosity is about relationships. The Feast of St. Nicholas reminds us that we belong to one another. When we share, we affirm our common humanity. When we forgive, we allow relationships to grow. When we show kindness, we rediscover that life is richest not in possessions but in people.
As winter settles in and daylight grows short, these reminders matter.
Imagine what our community could look like if each of us, inspired by Bishop St. Nicholas, chose to do just one small act of kindness this week. Perhaps it’s paying for someone’s groceries, donating warm clothing to PROP, or responding with patience when someone makes a mistake. These gestures may seem small, but they ripple outward — touching lives in ways we may never fully know.
These practices are gentle but powerful. They remind us that gifts are not measured by size but by love. They teach us that generosity is as much a posture of the heart as it is an action of the hands.
Bishop St. Nicholas’s life may be set in the distant past, but his message has never felt more contemporary. In a world longing for kindness, let’s rediscover the simple, transformative power of giving freely, loving boldly and caring quietly for one another — even as the busyness of the season surrounds us.
Editor’s note: This column was written by the Rev. Trish Sullivan Vanni, Ph.D., pastoral director and priest of the Charis Ecumenical Catholic Community in Eden Prairie.
Interested in contributing a faith-based column to EPLN? Email editor@eplocalnews.org.
