Saint Nicholas x 3

On this Christmas Eve, dear reader, I draw your attention to three iterations of Saint Nicholas. The historic Saint Nicholas lived from 247 - 346 and was active in Asia Minor, finally becoming Bishop of Myra. The numerous good works and miracles associated with him caused Nicholas to be elevated to Sainthood. His relics reside in the Basilica of Bari on the Adriatic Coast of Italy. Originally, his relics were housed in Myra (in present day Turkey), but in the 11th Century they were moved to Bari . Throughout that time and in both locations, his relics oozed a clear liquid with the odor of rose petals. The liquid is thought to possess healing powers. Each year the priests of the Basilica of Bari collect a vial of it on Saint Nicholas' Feast Day, December 6.

And then there is St. Nicholas Church in Oberdorf, Austria where on Christmas Eve in 1818, the Church organ was not working. With the important Christmas Eve Mass just hours away, the Priest, Father Josef Mohr and the organist, Franz Gruber met to decide what to do. Father Mohr would write a poem and the organist, who also played the guitar, would compose a melody.

That evening, they presented their little piece of music to the congregation as the special music for the Mass. The carol was called "Silent Night." It's popularity and use quickly spread, and the Christmas carol made its way to the United States with the German migration in the middle of the 19th Century. This afternoon at 5:00pm, many people will gather at a small chapel in Oberndorf to sing "Silent Night" as a tribute to Father Mohr and Franz Gruber, and in recognition of the spirit of the season.

The third Saint Nicholas I bring before the reader is the one in Clement Moore's poem, "Twas the Night Before Christmas" published in Troy, New York, 1823, for it is this description, excerpted below, that defined Santa Claus then and still does today:

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too.

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And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

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He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

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His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

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The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

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He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

Some have suggested that I look like Mr. Moore's St. Nicholas. It is true that young children, particularly this time of year, do give me more than a second look when I wink at them. And, while I do have an innate ability to determine who has been naughty and nice, and, yes, I have on more than one occasion invited women to sit on my lap, I confess to not being able to wrap presents very well. Nevertheless, I leave it to the dear readers to make up your own minds about who is their Santa Claus.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

~ Clement Moore, 1823