Stephanie
Saldana: When Santa Lived Next Door in Jerusalem
Nicholas was already
famous as a miracle worker by the time he arrived on our street in the Holy
Land.
By Stephanie Saldana
in the Wall Street Journal
While millions of
parents ready their children for Santa Claus's visit later this week, I get to
tell my boys that he actually lived next door to our house.
We don't live in the
North Pole, but in the Old City of Jerusalem, where last spring my husband
discovered a small stone house for rent in the Christian Quarter. When we first
moved in, I was surprised to see Christian pilgrims climbing the stairs in the
courtyard in front of our house and disappearing above us. Soon I discovered
that, hidden among the other houses, was the ancient Greek Orthodox monastery
of St. Nicholas.
While walking my two
sons to school recently, we encountered the Superior of the monastery, Fr.
Aristovoulos, and introduced ourselves.
"Why is it named
the monastery of St. Nicholas?" I asked. He looked at my two boys and
smiled. "It's because St. Nicholas came to the Holy Land as a pilgrim and
stayed in the monastery for a year." My 5-year-old son's face lit up.
"You mean Santa Claus?" he asked. "The original Santa
Claus," Fr. Aristovoulos answered.
Little concrete is known
about the historical St. Nicholas, who tradition says was a bishop in
4th-century Myra, what is now the southern coast of Turkey. All of the legends
associated with his life agree that he was a miracle worker—a man known for
helping the poor, widows and sailors.
According to Jerusalem
tradition, after Nicholas traveled as a bishop to the Council of Nicaea in 325,
he continued on to Jerusalem to visit the holy sites associated with the life
of Jesus. Fr. Aristovoulos says that it was on his way here that he performed
his first miracle. During his voyage across the Mediterranean he foresaw a
storm, and he warned the captain and the sailors that their ship would capsize.
So Nicholas prayed, calming the sea and saving their lives. Other legends say
that he later brought a sailor who died back to life.
According to Fr.
Aristovoulos, by the time Nicholas arrived at the house next door to ours, he
was already famous. "When he arrived in the port of Jaffa, they spread the
word that they had a saintly man, and locals and pilgrims started to ask for
St. Nicholas to help them."
Today, a beautiful
stone church marks the place where tradition says he remained for a year,
staying with a local family. A second church in the nearby village of Beit Jala
commemorates that he slept there. The Jerusalem church is decorated with icons
of St. Nicholas, easily recognizable with his white hair and long beard. And on
his feast day in December, the church fills with Russian, Greek and Palestinian
Christians, lighting candles and paying homage to the saint famous for giving
gifts.
"But these are
not gifts like giving toys to children," Fr. Aristovoulos insists.
"He gave lifesaving gifts."
In the most famous
story associated with St. Nicholas, he learned about a poor, widowed man who
had three daughters. Having acquired many debts, the father decided to sell his
oldest daughter into prostitution. When Nicholas heard, he came in the middle
of the night and dropped enough coins in the window to pay off the debt.
"He takes a handkerchief, maybe a sock, and he puts in 300 gold coins, and
he throws it in the open window one night. And that's enough money for the
father to have a dowry to marry off daughter number one," James Skedros,
Professor of Byzantine Studies and Early Christianity at Hellenic CollegeHoly
Cross, recounts the story he grew up on.
The daughter, now
rescued, is married. Later, the man falls into debt again and contemplates
selling his second daughter into prostitution. Again, Nicholas drops enough
coins through the window. When the man decides to sell off his third daughter,
he stays outside waiting to see who will save her. Perhaps this is the origin
of the popular legend of a saint who knows everything, even "when you're
sleeping," and "when you're awake."
For Mr. Skedros,
despite the little we know of the Nicholas biography, it is the miracles that
matter most. "What's interesting is that here is a Christian bishop in
southeastern Asia Minor who's not a martyr and who didn't write anything,"
he said. "I think what really plays to his favor is that he gets
associated with these wonderful miracles. In fact the Byzantine tradition calls
him Miracle Worker."
This season, as I've
thought of the stories of St. Nicholas, I've been reminded of the miracle of
kindness—what some might say is a lifesaving gift. It does feel a bit like a
season of miracles in Jerusalem. There's still snow on the ground from the
city's largest snowfall in decades. This Christmas Eve, I'll go with my family
to Bethlehem, like we do every year. As we approach the city, I'll choose the
brightest star in the sky and tell my two sons that we're following it to the
place where Jesus was born more than 2,000 years ago. On the way, we'll pass
the hospital where my son was born nearly six years ago, a reminder that
miracles don't just belong in the past.
Then we'll return
home, and I'll tuck my boys into bed, and we'll all wait for St. Nicholas to
come. If the neighbors are right, he shouldn't have any problem finding our
house.
Ms. Saldana is the
author of "The Bread of Angels" (Doubleday, 2010).
Poster's comment: I look forward to returning
to a time when lawyers make their living by representing their clients as best
they can.
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