ReclaimJesus.net

(Note to reader:  In a previous blog, I sought the assistance of our readers to complete the following children’s story that will be shared on Christmas morning at our church.  Here’s the result of our collaborative efforts.  Everybody who offered a suggestion, you are all winners of first prize:  a Pay-your-own-Expenses round-trip to attend the Christmas morning worship service at Plymouth Bethesda UCC, Oneida Square, Utica, New York.  See you there if not before, and, once again, thanks for the input.)  
 

            Once upon a time, in a land not so long ago and not so far away – a Land called NOW – the people of NOW were going about “business as usual.”   They made it through a tough Winter, a wet, rainy Spring, the Summer was long and hot and the kids got bored by the first of August – like I said, “business as usual.”  Labor Day came and the kids went back to school, and before you knew it, Halloween had come and gone, it was leave raking season, time to prepare for Thanksgiving. And shortly after Thanksgiving . . . .  ??????????????????

That was the thing.  They couldn’t, for the life of them, remember what they were supposed to do after Thanksgiving.  They knew they were supposed to get ready for something big.  They remembered they did it every year.  They just couldn’t remember what.  They had to get ready for ………… What-cha-ma-call-it.

They had plenty of hints.  Not long after Halloween the stores started getting ready for What-cha-ma-call-it.  First, shiny bulbs of red and green popped up everywhere, then something called tinsel dangling from the ceilings, wreathes on the walls, gigantic candy-canes hanging on the walls, and eventually plastic trees made their way into the stores with more bulbs and tinsel and bright lights.  At the same time, the stores started bringing out more merchandise than anyone had ever seen before – it was incredible – and they started selling the stuff at lower and lower prices.  Pre-What-cha-ma-call-it Day Sales, they called it.  Dutifully, everyone started buying everything, even though, for the life of them, they didn’t know why.    Piped in music in the stores – songs about chestnuts roasting in the open fire, some guy named Jack Frost nipping at your nose, a snowman named Frosty – all these things sounded vaguely familiar, but they just couldn’t put their finger on it.  What were they doing and why?

Shortly after Thanksgiving, some big roly-poly jovial guy dressed all in red with a big white beard rode into town on a team of (of all things) deer, complete with antlers and funny names like Dasher and Dancer and Donner and Blitzen.  One even had a bright red nose – they called him, of all names, Rudolph.  But still nobody could figure out what was going on?  Who was this guy?  Why was he here?

He set up shop in the local department store, and before you knew it, there were look-alikes in all the stores.  They said they had come to spread good cheer, but even they couldn’t remember exactly what they were supposed to do, or why????  All they knew was that, at the appointed moment – they didn’t know exactly when, or if they did, they weren’t telling -- their leader and his reindeer would fly through the air, land on the neighbor’s roofs, come down through the chimneys, and leave a bunch of gifts in his wake.   

The public, however, was suspicious.   It all sounded too good to be true.    Everybody disguised to look the same? – yeah right.  Breaking and entering through chimneys? – yeah, right.  Leaving gifts in their wake? -- yeah right.  The cry went out, “Arrest these evil-doers.  Protect our beloved town of NOW, NOW!”

But others disagreed.  “Wait.  What evil have they done?  What can we charge them with?”

“Charge them with conspiracy.”

“Conspiracy to do what?”

“We don’t know, just charge them, and we’ll figure it out later.  Charge them with intent to trespass, intent to loiter, intend to do evil.  Just charge them.”

Reason prevailed, and no charges were filed.  The roly-poly men dressed in red with white beards remained free, but just barely.  Government officials got involved, and, before you could say “Donner and Blitzen,” all sorts of new laws were proposed.  When in doubt, pass LAWS!   First they tried to outlaw Deer with antlers;  then they went after   red suits, then white beards.  A law was even proposed to outlaw  What-cha-ma-call-it – they couldn’t remember what they called it, so they simply outlawed “What-cha-ma-call-it.”  Any one caught with the word “What-cha-ma-call-it” or its equivalent on their lips would be tossed into the pokey with all the men in red.

In every case, however, the laws were voted down by a very close vote.   

So even though the good people of NOW didn’t understand what they were doing or why, they continued doing it.  What-cha-ma-call-it took on a life of its own.  The stores kept playing music and kept putting more stuff out on their shelves for people to buy – and the people kept buying and buying and buying.  Many were heard to say, ”I can’t really afford this.”  Others, “I know Jack (or Mary, or James) doesn’t need this, but….  He/she can always return it after you-know-what(???) and get something they really want.” 

Then one night, there was an unexpected breakthrough.  Nobody knows the family’s  name – it has all been kept very confidential for obvious reasons – but one night  when a young mother began reading her son his nightly bedtime story – it was fortuitously called, “The What-cha-ma-call-it” Story – everything changed. 

“Who Mommy, who?” the young boy cried out in anxious anticipation.  “Who is

who-za-what-zit?  And what’s What-cha-ma-call-it?”

The young mother was sad beyond tears.  She couldn’t lie to her son any more, but she couldn’t look him in the eye either, so she did the best she could.  “I’m sorry, son.   I wish I could remember who who-za-what-zit is, but I can’t.  I wish I could remember what What-cha-ma-call-it Day is all about, but I can’t.  Nobody can.  Something strange has come upon us here in the Land of Now, and nobody can remember what it’s all about.”

Then an incredible thing happened.  The young boy leaped up out of his mother’s loving arms and started bouncing on the bed like it was a trampoline.  “I remember, Mommy, I remember.  I know who who-za-what-zit is and I know what What-cha-ma-call-it is!”

His mother didn’t know what to say.  The poor boy was obviously confused, living in his own little world of make-believe like when he used to have a make-believe friend named Freddy the Frog.  But what harm could a little fantasy do, she told herself.  “Yes, so, tell me.  Who and what can’t we remember?”

“Who-za-what-zit is Santa.  Whatchamacallit is Santanalia, the night we celebrate the birthday of Santa.  If I remember correctly, his real name is Santa Clause.”   

Santanalia – it sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure it out.  She decided to play along.  “I think you are right, son, it’s about Santa and Santanalia.  Now let’s go to sleep.”  She tucked her loving son into bed, gave him a big kiss, and headed off to tell her husband the news.   He just shrugged it off as a child’s fantasy and made her promise not to tell anyone.  They didn’t need that kind of trouble.  But the next morning she couldn’t help but tell her next-door neighbor and best friend, and before you knew it, word had spread like wildfire.  When the local paper got word of it, the headline simply read in big bold RED print, SANTANALIA.”

A few nights later,  round two.  Same young mother, same young son, “Mommy, I remembered something else.  Santa’s real name is Kris Kringle.  Kris Kringle is the “real Santa Claus.”  And Whatchamacallit isn’t Santanalia, it’s Kringlemas.  The next morning same thing.  The newspaper headline:  KRINGLEMAS.

Incredibly, the very next night, as the young boy was being put to bed by his loving mother, his memory became even clearer.  That’s how memories sometimes work, when we talk about them, they become clearer.  “Mommy, it isn’t Kringlemas, it’s Krismas, for Kris Kringle.  Krismas with a “K.” 

And that’s when she finally got it.  She could see it in her young son’s eyes.  It had been a long time since she’d stared into his eyes like that.  She’d been so busy, rushing around (she knew not where or why, but rushing any way).  But this time she stared deep into his soul, and there it was.  The innocence of youth – a strange combination of faith, and hope, and trust, and love.  Especially love.  But it was more than love.  It was Unconditional Love – a love she knew she didn’t deserve.  It was a moment she’d cherish forever – frozen in time for all eternity.  Eternal Salvation in the Here and Now.  All in her son’s eyes – right in front of her.

Her mind started spinning.  It wasn’t Santanalia, and it wasn’t Kringlemas, and it wasn’t Kristmas with a “K,” it was Christmas with a “Ch.”  For the baby Christ child.  His name was Jesus.  That’s what all this craziness was all about.  Celebrating the coming of the baby Jesus and his message of Faith and Hope and Trust and Love. 

“Mommy, Mommy, what’s the matter? Is something wrong?”  The voice seemed to be coming from far away, but it brought it back to her senses. 

“No, honey, everything is just fine.”  She smiled, gave her son an extra long hug and kiss, and tucked him in bed.  “Everything is just fine.”

That night, she immediately told her husband.  As soon as she reminded him, he remembered, too.  Sometimes, it only takes one person to remember.  She and her husband plotted into the wee hours of the morning, both agreeing this would be way too much to spring on the good people of NOW all at once  -- if a message of Faith and Hope and Love were to replace the message of Santanalia, or Kringlemas, or Krismas with a “K,” if the townspeople suddenly changed their ways and stopped buying everything they could get their hands on,  the entire economy of NOW could be at risk.  They could even lose their jobs.  No, they had to be careful with this message.

So, they decided to spread the true meaning of Christmas in a quiet, low-keyed way – the message that  Christmas is about Jesus – about Faith, and Hope, and Trust and Love.  It’s about looking into the eyes of one another and seeing the reflection of  Faith, and Hope, and Trust  and Love.    It’s about celebrating the birth of Jesus, not just on Christmas Day, but each and every day of our lives as the spirit of Jesus is born again within us, as we go forth out into the NOW reflecting Faith, and Hope, and Trust, and Love in all we think, say, and do.  And it’s about celebrating the only gift that really matters – the gift we all take for granted so often – the gift of life.

It didn’t take long for the people of NOW  to get the message – not through any headline in big bold RED print – but they began to experience the message.  And they came to understand that the sharing of gifts with our loved ones is a perfectly appropriate part of celebrating Christmas Day, just so long as they never ever forget the deeper meaning,  Then one bright  night  -- a night just like this one -- the people of  NOW came together to celebrate the birth of baby Jesus.  They came from all over – north, south, east, and west – they traveled by plane, and train, and boat, and car, and bus, and SUV, and mini-vans, they came by camels and donkeys, they came tending to their flock – Kings and Queens, princes, and princesses, presidents, world leaders, doctors, lawyers, mailmen,  workermen, mommies and daddies and children and babies  -- everybody came. 

To celebrate the birth of baby Jesus.

And the people of NOW lived happily ever after, never-ever forgetting the real meaning of What-cha-ma-call-it.

           

In the land of NOW.