Santa Claus Is Coming To Town in a Manger
We are getting into the time of year when Mom used to warn I better be good or Santa Claus wouldn't come bring me presents. I don't know if those warnings made me better behaved, but it sure didn't hurt. I was taking no chances. Mom wouldn't lie. Somehow, Santa was at the North Pole making a list and checking it twice, monitoring me all day, and then deciding if I had been a good boy. Something similar happened all year in regard to church. Sunday school teachers, preachers, Bible readings, and parents all warned me I had to be good if I wanted to get into heaven. It wasn't clear if that meant not stealing or murdering, or if picking up my toys made me good enough in God's eye. St. Peter was like Santa, keeping a check list to show to God when I died and appeared at the pearly gates. Could I stay "up there," or would I be sent someplace underground to burn in eternal damnation? Scary stuff, for sure. When I got older and found that Santa didn...