“Who is stronger God or Santa?” It was a burning question that popped into my head in the middle of Christmas Eve mass. I listened as the priest stated that God possessed nonpareil power and could do anything; even create the world in 7 days. I thought this was a question that I needed addressed immediately. I leaned forward out of my seat and quickly pushed my way by other family members sitting in the pew toward my father. The pace at which I approached my father led him to believe there was a pending emergency that needed immediate attention. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” my father whispered to me. “No, there is something much more important we need to talk about.” “What is it?” he inquired anxiously, I replied in a moderately loud voice, insomuch at least the pew in front and behind could hear me, “I need to know, who is stronger God or Santa?” The woman behind us began chuckling. To passive aggressively demonstrate my frustration with the woman laughing at me I pressed by index finger to my lips and muttered “shhhhh” toward the woman. After regaining control of the situation I turned back to my father for an answer. He tried to ignore me initially which he knew was not going to work. I pressed again, to which he responded, “Not now, we will talk about this later” in a deep disgruntled voice. “Ok, Scrooge, you do not need to get all hot under the collar on Christmas Eve” I thought.
When mass finally ended I reengaged my father, “Dad, who is stronger God or Santa?” My father simply replied, “God.” I questioned his ability to answer so quickly “How do you know that?” “If you recall there is a book that is about as thick as your leg called the Bible, which states it multiple times. You are free to read it for yourself to independently verify my answer if you would like.” It was an archetypal Dad move; cite a resource he knew I am not going to verify in the effort to prove his point. “Is there any video of God I can watch? I have seen Santa in action on TV so it would be nice to see video of God too.” “I can say incontrovertibly there is no original footage of God on TV that you can watch.” As we rode home, I contemplated different options I could pursue to discover the irrefutable truth. Just before we arrived home, I had a stroke of genius. I would stay awake on Christmas Eve until Santa arrived, at which time, I would just ask Santa, “Who is stronger you or God?” Santa seemed like a straight-shooter given the fact that he was the controlling body for the naughty or nice list. Therefore, if I proposed the question I would receive an honest answer. Since my father had already presented his uncorroborated opinion, I decided I would refrain from telling him my plan so that he could not attempt to undermine my plan.
After placing the milk and cookies out for Santa, I began developing a formal strategy. Since I had never stayed up to actually see Santa I was in the dark on approximately when he would be arriving. I avoided asking my father because I knew I would receive a nonplussed answer (which may or may not be made up; since he is not a subject matter expert on Santa) followed by a series of follow-up questions. I first attempted to ask my mother but she was busy putting my brother to sleep. I scrambled for ideas as “bedtime” was looming; suddenly I knew exactly how to handle this situation, hit up my old pal Siri for the answer. I picked up my mom’s phone on the table and began asking Siri questions relating to Santa’s arrival. “Siri, what time will Santa be coming to my house tonight?” I asked. “Were you naughty or nice this year? she replied. “Do we really need to go through the formality of these types of questions?” the question itself applies the answer from the onset I thought as I quickly replied, “Yes.” “What did you ask from Santa?” “Siri, you need to remember you work for me and so just answer my question” I said. Siri finally provided a worthless answer something about, “Here is what I found on the internet.”
My father heard that I was conversing with Siri and came into the kitchen to see what I was doing. My father inquired, “What are you doing? You are supposed to be getting ready for bed.” Rather than dance around the truth, I just stated “I had a quick question about Santa I needed to run by Siri about when Santa would be coming to our house.” “Satisfied with the answer?” my father replied. “Nope, so would you happen to know about what time Santa will arrive?” My father stated he did not have an exact arrival time, but it would be late in the night when we were all asleep. My question triggered a thought in my father’s head. “To be clear you cannot stay up and try to see Santa. If you try he may skip our house because he deliveries presents in secret.” My father’s comments were alarming. I had a dilemma, I needed an answer to my question yet I did not want to jeopardize having Santa skip our house. Against my better judgement, I solicited advice from my father. “Dad, do remember that question I asked you in church, “Who is stronger God or Santa?” well I need to ask Santa directly and hear the answers directly from his lips.” My father nodded gently as it appeared he was reflecting on his “independent verification” comment early that had come back to haunt him.
My father suggested that we write a short note to Santa with the question and he could quickly provide his answer while he is delivering presents. I pushed back on that proposal citing I did not have confidence in that idea; and counteroffered with the idea of tricking Santa into thinking we were sleeping then just sneak up and ask him when he was in the house. My father’s response which could only be classified as fearmongering painted a dark picture of Santa never returning to our house if we tried to trick him. If my father’s objective was to spook me, he was successful. Under duress, I agreed to propose the question to Santa in writing and committed not to try any Santa reconnaissance missions that evening.
Christmas morning I dashed to the living room to evaluate my haul of presents and discover if Santa had provided an answer to my question. I picked up the note but I could not fully read the response so I grabbed it and ran to my parent’s room. I proclaimed it was time to get up; but first I needed someone to read the response from Santa. My mother read the response, “God is stronger than I am but I am stronger than Superman.” This was a puzzling response, “Why would Santa even introduce the thought that he possessed more power than Superman?” I thought. The more I thought the answer seemed too scripted and verbose, it was a response more akin to a response my father would provide. So, I said what was on my mind, “Dad you wrote that answer.” My father responded by categorically denying my unfounded accusations. Then my father shifted the conversation to opening presents, which was a good diversion. As I exited my parent’s bedroom I overheard my mother saying “Your fingerprints were all over that message; and even the simplest task you had to put your own spin on.” These comments were glorious news to my ears; it was as if Christmas had come twice, I could confidently state that the intellectual discussion centering on “Who is stronger God or Santa” was still alive and well. I would have ample opportunity to collect relevant facts to make an informed final decision. Rest assured I will always capitalize on my father’s missteps.