Sitting 5
Meanwhile
Sometimes
the clouds of the sky gently descend and cover us with the dew of the
heavens.
We
call it fog.
As
the day winds to a sleepy conclusion, we retire to our beds to revel
in night visions free of mortal limitations.
These
are our dreams.
Strolling
along, sensing a pending danger, we pause to reflect, later to
realize that this supernatural inkling spared us immense pain.
A
premonition.
The
spirit world, like a great cloud of witnesses, engulfs us with
merciful loving care, unseen, but of great benefit.
In
a place which does not truly exist on any map nor visible to the
naked eye, an aged toymaker sits, suspended in time, all alone,
staring into a snow globe, the circumference of an elephant's head,
viewing the dilemma of a young woman squeezed by a fretful situation,
hard pressed to please her superiors, yet trying to somehow justify
her endeavors in an unsettled soul.
This
aged seer is a toymaker--Kris Kringle by name, Santa Claus by fame.
Tears
come to his eyes as he ponders the turmoil of Shelley Claibourne.
Her
assignment? Change the name of Christmas.
Yet
will it lead to other unforeseen revisions? What will be required?
What
can be done?
Being
a wise spirit, Kringle realizes that such contemplation is better
appreciated with friends. So he calls a meeting--a breath of
invitation propelled through the air to spirits near and far, to come
and fellowship.
Everett
Green, the spirit of the forest and the Prince of the Tanenbaum.
Holly
Sprig, the jolly saint of the season, green with promise and red with
celebration.
Christmas
Carol, the melody of a joy to the world through a silent night which
commands the angels we have heard on high.
Santere,
the leader of the wise few who followed a star through the darkest
night to see the Babe of Promise.
Mary
and Joseph, the adolescent pair who insisted that their pure love was
ushering in pure peace.
And
of course, Lit--the light of the world that sheds illumination on
every continent, religion, culture and color.
Kris
Kringle simply closed his eyes, envisioned each friend, and softly
said to himself, "It is time to gather."
A
sweet fragrance rose to his nostrils.
A
rush of wind.
A
warming in the soul.
A
giddy sense of well-being.
Soon
he was surrounded with the comrades beckoned. Opening his eyes, he
looked into their childlike, expectant faces.
- Everett, appropriately donned in greenery
- Holly, festive and alive
- Carol, completely encompassed by bouncing musical notes which burst like soap bubbles, releasing a sweet tone
- Santere, removing his turban and embracing Kringle for a lingering exchange in fellowship
- Mary and Joseph, quiet, patient but prepared
- And finally, Lit, sparkling an iridescent beam of welcome and cheer.
Kris
surveyed his friends and spoke slowly. "Shelly Claibourne is in
turmoil."
Some
nodded. Others listened more intently. All spirits present.
Kringle
continued. "We have known for all time that the humans we love
and cherish are losing their faith--or perhaps never possessed such a
glorious confidence in the first place."
"It
is not their fault," whispered Everett Green. "They spend
too much time at work and too little in the forest.
Holly
Sprig spoke up. "We all know they have no guilt, but failing to
find the blessing of color to decorate the plainness can leave you in
despair with the gray."
"On
this we agree," intoned Kringle.
"A
song is a prayer that brings melody to the heart," sang
Christmas Carol.
Santere
inquired, "What is Shelley's pressure?"
"She
has been asked to rename Christmas," answered Kris.
"Why?"
challenged Joseph.
"Why,
indeed?" agreed Kris Kringle. "There are those who feel the
holiday could be just as festive without all the traditions and
meaning."
"Without
Jesus," said Mary solemnly.
"That
is part of it," said Kringle. "But there is more. They feel
that one man's joy and salvation is another man's condemnation."
"There
is no condemnation in the light," said Lit.
A
complete and reassuring assent.
This
was followed by a long moment of silence.
At
length, Santere offered counsel. "We must do what we always do."
The
entire assembly understood. For in the midst of a mass of humanity,
there are those who have greater sensitivity to the spirit world.
They are free of guile. They are not possessed by deadlines. They are
absent prejudice. They are curious about the "possible"
which lives within the "impossible."
They
are children--or have at least honored and given permanent home to a
child's heart.
"Yes,"
said Kris. "We need a champion."
"But
how?" asked Everett.
"A
mortalation," replied Joseph. "I had one in the midst of a
sweet sleep of night, which told me to take Mary as my wife."
He
squeezed her hand and she nestled into his warmth.
"A
good idea!" said Lit. "I will light the way."
"I
will offer the wording of wisdom," inserted Santere.
"I,
the music," chimed Carol.
"But
who?" questioned Kringle.
Silence.
Thought.
Contemplation.
"Who
is always the problem," said Holly Sprig.
"We
shall watch and pray. Pray and watch. And then watch some more,"
replied Kris Kringle, the Santa Claus.
The
meeting was over.
The
spirits dissolved into forces of the universe, zooming in diverse
directions to fulfill personal missions.
A
solitary Kris Kringle peered into his snow globe.
"Who...shall
it be?"
Sitting Six
Charrleen and The Jubilators
It was Dunleavy who proposed that a song might be the best way to inspire the public with a new name for Christmas.
"Yes, a tuneful transition," he concluded.
Shelley was once again placed in charge, this time of finding a pop star who would be willing to write and record a song entitled, "Great Jubilation."
She was provided a handsome stipend to offer to the artist, but even with the incentive of cash, many musicians were reluctant.
The most famous band in the land, The Payload, was already busy in the studio on their brand new album.
Rhythm and blues superstar, Fairmont, wasn't confident that it fit his image.
Several other recording artists turned it down on principle, not wanting to be the "pied pipers" to lead the departure of all the rats from Christmas.
Finally, Shelley got Charrleen to agree and sign a contract. She was a rising vocalist in the adult contemporary market. Although only twenty-two years of age, she already had three number one hits to her credit. She was perfect.
Her mother was Jewish and her father, Greek Orthodox. She was also dating a black rapper.
Everything covered.
Shelley explained to Charrleen that a song was needed, and the concepts that were involved. Without hesitation, the young recording star leaped into the project.
Meanwhile, an all-star band and chorus were formed from many past-blazing-stars and promising novas, and dubbed The Jubilators.
Shelley was completely shocked when three days after her meeting with Charrleen, she received a call telling her that the song was finished.
Matter of fact, Charrleen sent her a copy of the lyrics to the chorus, explaining that the melody was the blending of a traditional Christmas anthem and "Old Motown."
Shelley perused the words.
Great Jubilation
A tune of celebration
We lift our voice
Knowing it's our choice
Young and free
With love, you see
The name we sing
The song we bring
Love to one another
Sisters and brothers
Our generation
Our revelation
Great jubilation
Shelley absolutely loved it--partly because it was so easy to understand, but mostly because it was done and she didn't have to worry about it anymore.
Two weeks later, Charrleen and The Jubilators went into the studio and within a month, the song was pressed, ready to go and being aired on the radio.
A slow start. Then, some TV promotion, and suddenly sales soared.
People really liked the song. They seemed to be accepting the name, Great Jubilation.
Some religious groups objected, but they were quickly portrayed as "outsiders, old fogeys and behind the times."
Even the four members of the committee agreed.
Charmaine thought it was a catchy tune.
Lisa admitted that it was the least offensive of offensive ideas.
Mike surprised everyone by saying that the church kids were already singing it.
And Timothy added his two cents by saying, Charrleen is hot."
Great Jubilation was growing in popularity.
Christmas was already beginning to sound ... a little old-fashioned.
No comments:
Post a Comment