Your child still believes in the Christ Child? Why it's (not) okay to lie
23/12/2022
Translation: machine translated
The Christ Child brings the Christmas presents and Father Christmas lives in the deep forest. That's what my children believe. Shouldn't they know the truth?
Our family lives with a lie. Two people know this, two have no idea. Yet. This year the truth would have come to light about an angel's hair.
The eldest is now almost seven years old and attends primary school. There, the majority knows about it. So it should have surprised me to no end when she elaborated at lunch a few days ago: "Mummy, the Father Christmas who came to school today was not a real one."
Boom. It's time, she's smelt the Christmas roast. What am I supposed to say to her? That it's nonsense? That now is the time for the truth, but not in the presence of her little sister?
The daughter herself, of all people, saved me from answering. "It's actually logical that the right Father Christmas wasn't there. He has so much else to do at the moment." Obviously, she had long since made up her own explanation. In my mind, I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead. And after lunch, I started to wonder.
Lying for a good cause?
We teach our children every day to go through life honestly and truthfully, but we are not so careful about the truth ourselves. I have already recorded a list of the most well-known and funniest everyday lies in an earlier post.
Let's face it. Even by hook or by crook, holiday fibs cannot be squeezed into the "white lies" category. The fact that the Easter Bunny hides the eggs, the Christ Child brings the presents and Father Christmas lives in his forest hut is more than just a fib.
It's a regular, regular lie.
It is a downright conspiracy.
Children are reminded daily that the little birds chirp all their naughtiness to Father Christmas, the Easter Bunny is given carrots as a bribe and wish lists are stuck under Mandarinli on the window sill. Grown-ups sneak into the garden at night to hide eggs in the hedge. And the same adults stick a white beard on their faces a few months later to read the riot act to the children in a deep, stilted voice.
Hohoho, isn't that completely absurd? Every Hollywood production can pack a punch.
No wonder, the years of deception often result in bitter disappointment in the end. This is exactly why English psychologist Christopher Boyle and his Australian colleague Kathy McKay plead for a ban on lying. The stories about Santa Claus would traumatise children, the experts wrote in their scientific essay "A wonderful Lie" in 2016. They would really shake the child's basic trust. For if mummy and daddy lied here, where else? If, on the other hand, parents would refrain from telling Christmas lies from the very beginning, the big disappointment would be absent, she argues.
"Christmas Grinches" is how the psychologist duo was subsequently dubbed; their call caused an emotional public debate at the time. The tenor of their opponents: the Christmas illusion was an important part of every childhood. Trust in parents would depend on many other factors besides.
The moment when Christmas lost its magic
I try to think back to when I myself was brought down to earth. It was the morning of Christmas Day, of all days, I was about seven, when my cousin let me in on the great Christ Child secret. Not for a second did I doubt her version, suddenly it all made sense. Why my mother always stayed at home on Christmas Eve, but we were only allowed back into the flat in the evening. Why the family friend always disappeared shortly before Father Christmas appeared. Christmas lost its magic all of a sudden and I remember how much I wished at that moment that I hadn't found out the truth.
Despite the fact that I was always allowed to stay at home on Christmas Eve.
Despite this, would I have wanted to know the truth from the beginning and forgo the beautiful illusion? No. Did I ever blame my parents for that? No. Did I subsequently tell my own children the truth directly? No.
The story of the Christ Child and the Easter Bunny is part of our childhood after all. And even into adulthood, when we are very well able to distinguish between reality and fiction. Why else do we sit dreaming year after year in front of the cheesy Christmas film "Three Hazelnuts for Cinderella"?
This is exactly what the two "Grinch psychologists" discovered: behind the Christmas lie lies, above all, the parents' desire to revive their own childhood magic for a brief moment. Or to put it another way: in truth, we only pull the stunt with the Christ Child for ourselves. Whew.
But even so. Apparently, we remember the Christmas lie so well that we want to relive it as adults. More than that, we want our children to have a similarly fond memory. If the thing had actually been lastingly upsetting for us, we would hardly want to do it to our children.
A question of perspective
Well, this time my husband and I got off lightly anyway. Next year at the latest will probably be the moment of truth. Somehow, though, I even imagine it would be nice to tell my child that the story of the Christ Child is there to spread joy at Christmas.
The truth is that it's not a story.
The truth is, it's not a Christmas lie at all. It's a beautiful Christmas tale.
Titelfoto: Katja Fischer
Katja Fischer
Senior Editor
Katja.Fischer@digitecgalaxus.chMom of Anna and Elsa, aperitif expert, group fitness fanatic, aspiring dancer and gossip lover. Often a multitasker and a person who wants it all, sometimes a chocolate chef and queen of the couch.
