*This is a post I've published for the last several years. I hope you enjoy it. I post it every year as part of my remembering something special in our family's experience.
I'm 40 years old and I believe in Santa Claus. I really do. Let me tell you why--and then maybe you will also.
I didn't always believe in him. In fact, while I was growing up, I didn't believe in him. My sweet mom really wanted the focus to be on Baby Jesus (and rightly so), consequently Santa just wasn't a big part of our celebrations.
I was never anti-Santa, I thought he seemed harmless enough, but he just didn't play much of a role in my life. Until I was married with children.
A lot of you know the first part of the story. While on a mission for my church, I became quite ill. I managed to struggle along through the complete two years, but I came home severely weakened and exhausted.
Still, I fell in love, got married and we started our family. Then I relapsed and the sickness came back with a vengeance. Those years are a blur for me. For basically three years I could do nothing but lay in my bed and sleep. On good days I was able to watch a little TV. I had to drop out of school and it was impossible to work. My poor wife was essentially a single mother of two little boys--in addition to taking care of a sick husband. It was terribly, incredibly, perpetually bleak during those years. There was not much to cheer us as we trudged through the soul-numbing bleakness that was always there.
Eventually, miraculously, I was healed. But after three years, we were in a pretty deep hole--financially and emotionally.
Christmas came the next year. We were grateful that I wasn't sick any more, but there were residual effects. I was way behind in school, we had no money, and Christmas was going to be fairly sparse for our kids--and now there were three of them. That was okay. We weren't miserable or anything--but it wasn't exactly terribly festive, either.
Then, one night we heard a noise outside. Someone left a beautiful artificial Christmas tree on our doorstep. That was followed by decorations and some other things. That really brightened our holiday.
Then, several nights before Christmas, we heard the distinct sound of bells outside. I opened the door and went to see what it was. I opened the door and Santa Claus walked in.
Mormons, wherever you are, can we talk? Let's talk about this whole lay clergy thing. Consider your bishop, or say, a a member of your stake presidency.
Here's a guy who has a lot of responsibility, even power. Something in us as humans, especially in egalitarian Americans makes us want to knock the powerful off their pedestals, bring them down to earth.
For example, we have a teacher at school who just loves to find ways to embarrass the headmaster. Nothing major, just take him down a few pegs. In fact, she seems to think it's her mission and comes up with all kinds of mildly humiliating things for him--usually silly skits at faculty events or in her classroom.
I've noticed that we do this in the Church a lot to our local leaders--everything from teasing to more advanced hijinks. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that per se.
But I have a few thoughts to toss out there. First of all, our headmaster applied for the position. It's his job and I assume that he's well compensated. Local priesthood leaders are exactly opposite. They did not apply, did not seek the job, and are not compensated. Frankly, they often do not want their callings. They give up most of their discretionary time and make huge sacrifices in order to respond to a call they believe is from God.
They have jobs and families. Like you, they have bad days and they get tired. They have problems at work, they have problems with their children. Their lawns need to be mowed, their kids have ball games, they have a spat with their wife...regular stuff that everyone does.
Let's just say that a hypothetical local priesthood leader goes to a Church event--a ward party, for example. He's tired. It's been a rough week. He's struggling with some concerns. Nothing major, nothing anyone knows about--but he's feeling weighed down by car repairs and impending orthodontic treatments. He's been away from his home every night this week to do Church work and he hasn't seen his small children in days. He has some big deadlines coming up at work and he isn't sleeping well.
Now, let's say that the party features a talent show and the organizers have planned a special surprise. The local priesthood leader is going to arrive and be expected to be in a silly skit--nothing awful, but something that will be a bit embarrassing/uncomfortable--something like a pie in his face while he wears a silly costume, or getting doused with water. No one asks him beforehand if he's game--it's just an expectation. He's either tricked into doing it without knowing the full deal, or it's sprung on him right there.
What should he do? He wants to be a good sport, but he just doesn't want to play tonight. On another night, he might be game. Or not--he might be a quiet, introverted guy who simply doesn't enjoy doing things like this.
Of course, he HAS to go along with it. If he doesn't, then everyone will think he's stiff and stuffy and a bad sport and probably holier-than-thou. He reaches past the fatigue and tries to respond as graciously as he can.
Everyone laughs and loves seeing him playing the fool. They all say, "Bishop so-and-so is such a good sport." A few people say, with an edge in their voice, "Wow, I didn't think you ever took off that shirt and tie. About time you finally unwind a little" (like he wears that for recreational purposes, because he wants to). A good time is had by all, except him.
He'll get over it. People have worse problems, for sure. But there is something that seems unkind in this situation.
We essentially expect our leaders to be whatever we want, whenever we want. A spiritual giant when we need a blessing or help. A fun-loving fool when we want to do silly skits. A calm and steady presence who's available when tragedy strikes.
But a leader is human and we have to remember that. He doesn't have fewer burdens and problems than we have in his personal life. In fact, he has as many or more because the Lord is constantly refining, testing, and teaching him to be worthy of his position. Plus, he has his Church stuff.
In my experience, our leaders are happy to give as much as they can--and more. But we have to remember their fundamental humanity. Sometimes maybe we need to be the good sports and be gracious enough to cut them some slack.