Virginia went home that evening and asked her father, Dr. Phillip O’Hanlon, a coroner’s assistant in Manhattan’s Upper West Side, if there really was a Santa Claus - a question that all parents seem to avoid as much then as today. And although Dr. O’Hanlon passed the buck on this question, he unwittingly gave an editor at the New York Sun a chance to rise above a very simple and yet powerfully complicated question - and give for us Christmas magic.
That editor was one Francis Pharcellus Church, a former War Correspondent for The Sun during the American Civil War, and the “go-to” man that The Sun turned to when a letter to the editor was one of a philosophical or spiritual nature. Now he held little Virginia O’Hanlon’s letter in his hand. “Is There A Santa Claus?” The words were scrawled as only an 8-year-old can scrawl, seemingly pleading for someone to give her an answer.
The answer came, and was printed in The New York Sun over 100 years ago, and still brings with it a purity of faith and hope that was written specifically for an age which just saw a country ripped apart and struggling with the ideas of faith - ironically or not, we seem to be in the midst of a personal crisis ourselves. As we deal with head on the issues of “What’s Important” now, and re-examine our priorities and our faith - in humanity, ourselves, the government, or of a spiritual nature - this simple letter and the editorial reply that was given are just as important today as they were over a century ago.
So, to begin this Holiday season, I present to you Virginia O’Hanlon’s letter, and the editorial reply by Francis Pharcellus Church. May it bring you renewed faith and hope for the coming season.
Tuesday, September 21, 1897
We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of THE SUN:
"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?
"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."
VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.