V Now we know it: Santa has a diversity policy. Normally, elves are tiny, emanate from somewhere in Lapland and play an important role in Christianity’s most popular annual event.

Matan Goldman, by contrast – who started work at the Elf Academy this season – is from East Finchley, a strapping 6ft 4in tall... and Jewish.

The giant Yiddishe elf is delighted with his decision to eschew a gap year in Israel and instead head to Lapland to get a job as one of Santa’s helpers.
“The children are 100 per cent certain that we are real and that Santa is real,” says Matan, 18.

“It’s very nice to be with someone who is so imaginative and enjoying it. It’s also fun to send photos to my friends at university, of me on a snowmobile with the Northern Lights. I send it to them saying, ‘Are you in a lecture? I’m here!’”

A day in the life of an elf includes taking children and their families on a reindeer sled to the elf base camp to toast marshmallows over the fire, play games and make snowmen. But Matan’s favourite part of the job is driving a snowmobile with a heated sled attached to Santa’s house, where the children receive a gift.

After he finished his schooling at Akiva and JCoSS, Matan was hunting for a job when a friend suggested the role as one of Santa’s helpers.

“I thought, ‘This looks very fun and a bit different,’” he says. Without telling anyone, he sent in a cover letter and was called for an online interview.

“I wore a Christmas jumper and tried to make the background Christmassy,” he says of how he bagged the job. In response to questions on his experience and achievements that would make him a “good elf”, he cited his work as a leader on Noam summer camp.

“I’m used to dealing with kids and working on a team,” he says. “My role as an elf is quite similar in terms of getting the kids to engage.”

An elf’s working day starts at 7am and begins at the bakery station, where children arrive to bake gingerbread cookies and write letters to Santa before decorating their creations.

Matan explained how the other elves found out he was Jewish. “We were making gingerbread cookies, and one cookie cutter was a star, like a Magen David, but I think it was just meant to be a star. I made one and etched a little chanukiah into it, for a bit of representation. And when we cooked it, someone said, ‘that looks like the Jewish star’.” When Matan said he was Jewish, they were stunned into silence.

“They thought I was joking, then they said, ‘Oh, wow!’ They were not expecting it. It was very nice.”

As a child, Chanukah was Matan’s favourite time of year, and featured the customary songs, doughnuts and presents. “I was sad that I’m not going to be at home for Chanukah, so I brought a dreidel and a bunch of chocolate coins with me, and I hope to show the other elves a few traditions.”

Since his family never did Christmas during his childhood, he had to swot up on the festive traditions before he went to Lapland.

“It was very new for me,” he says. “I knew he came in via the chimney, but I was unsure about his actual story, so one night I sat down and searched ‘Christmas explained’.”

But then when he arrived in Lapland at the elves’ headquarters, he was shown a video of everything he needed to know to do the job, and they also gave him a fictional back story. “It helped a lot, because I was thinking they’re going to look at me and say, ‘you’re not an elf, obviously.’”

The backstory went like this: Once upon a time, the elves were “awesome” human children and, at five years old, they received a letter from Santa to join the Elf Academy. They stopped ageing at elf school and turned into elves. As for his height, “I tell them I drank a lot of milk and ate all my vegetables,” says Matan.

His friends from JCoSS find his new job “hilarious”, and many did not believe him when he first revealed it. “When I explained, and they realised I was serious about it, they were very supportive. They thought it was cool.”

He did not tell his parents initially because they were anxious that he should find something worthwhile to do on his year off. “I remember going downstairs, saying ‘I’ve got an interview for a job.’ When I explained it to them, I could see their faces change. They looked so unbelievably confused. It was very funny.”

After his trip to Lapland, Matan will take a degree in aerospace engineering at Birmingham University, after which he plans to go to space. He’s surpassed the maximum height to be an astronaut, he says, but adds: “I’m hoping that could change as the technology improves.”