A Xmastime parable

On the bus tonight, on my way to West 74th Street, where I go to practice Zen meditation, I overheard a boy and his Brazilian babysitter behind me. “I’m Jewish,” I heard him say proudly. “What are you?” “I’m an atheist,” the young woman said playfully. “I don’t believe in God.” “Well I don’t believe in Santa Claus,” the boy replied. She was speechless. “I don’t,” he said. “Santa Claus does not exist.” “Well, I don’t believe in God,” the woman said, “but I do believe in Santa Claus.” I couldn’t resist butting in over my shoulder, to the kid: “So who’s the guy at Macy’s if there’s no Santa Claus?” I looked him right in the eye. “You think he gets paid or something? I don’t think so.” “Ask him,” the woman said. “Let’s go to Macy’s and you ask him if he’s just a guy who’s getting paid or if he’s Santa Claus and see what he says.” “I will,” the boy said, “and he’s just going to be a regular man in a costume with a red suit and everything.” They stood up to exit the bus at West 86th Street. “You’re weird,” the boy said. “You don’t believe in God, but you believe in Santa Claus.” The Brazilian girl was smiling as she hopped lightly to the ground behind the person for whom she was responsible. I wondered if we had convinced him, perhaps for just a moment, of the existence of Santa Claus after all. I thought I had been persuasive when I denied the likelihood of Santa Claus at Macy’s getting paid. I surmised the boy was toying with the question and probably felt quite sure the man was a paid fake, one of many, but also imagined he could be wrong about this. I supposed he was also cogitating, perhaps, about the absurdity of atheism, and its appeal.