Newsletter 20 12 23 A Johannesburg Christmas story.
Once upon a time, in a hot dry land of lions and elephants, there was a small child who lived in a very small house. The house was on a dusty road with a wire fence; it had a roof made from Flattened kerosene and oil drums. There was just one room to live in and a bedroom for the child’s parents. Somewhere at the back was a toilet. It was Christmas Eve, the child’s parents were asleep early because they were bakers and rose with the sun to bake bread and cook food for the people who went to work.
Looking out the window the child could see the big city not far off. Its bright lights lit up the night sky. Around his house, there was only the light from cooking fires and candles that struggled in the deep shadows. Shadows that are long and deep where dogs slept, and other things. The child was very lonely and sad. In the big city, Christmas Eve was in full swing as only a big city can celebrate Christmas.
In his house, there was only the light from one candle and no decorations, nothing except dust, corrugated iron, the heat sung off the iron roof. A big iron stove stood against one wall set ready for lighting very early in the morning, to bake the bread for that day. Christmas day was really no different from any other day in the township.
Standing there watching the stars the child began to wish in his heart for something different, something better, he felt and ache inside his tummy like hunger, a longing for something not known but missed or remembered never the less. Looking around the house he began to notice how dusty it was, how many cobwebs there were, how dirty the window was.—Taking a broom and a cloth he set about cleaning, somehow the act of cleaning made him feel a little better. He began to dream of a beautiful room with fresh paint, a tiled floor, even paneling on the inside of the walls instead of gum poles and iron cladding, painted ceiling boards instead of flattened iron cans. As he dreamt and cleaned, he noticed that a star seemed to be getting a little brighter and seemed to be moving towards him. The star grew closer until it hovered over the front fence; there was no gate anymore. It hovered there like the heat haze off the hot tin roof.
Out of the gloom stepped a dirty old man who smelt rather badly, much worse than a wet dog. The boy was frightened. Stories of robbers ran through his mind. He ran back up the short path to the door. Just then the man fell down with a groan like a squeaky door. The boy’s fear was overcome by his feelings of love and concern. Coming near the man he heard him whisper “Water”. There was no water in the house, the only water was in the tap at the end of the street. The boy was afraid of the dark and his parents had punished him for leaving the house without them at night.
What to do? What to do? What would you do?
Waking his parents was not an option, he had found out to his cost on other lonely nights.
What to do? What to do?
He grabbed the only leaky bucket in the house, pulled in his stomach, bit his tongue to stop his teeth rattling with fear and walked out the gate past the man. As he walked to the tap a strange thing happened. The star followed him and lit his way, he was not so afraid of the dark anymore. He filled the bucket at the tap and started to run back, the bucket leaked a lot and if he were not quick there would be no water for the man. Running into the house he poured the water into a bowl, took a cup dipped it in and gave the man a drink. The man drank the water in three gulps, the boy noticed the man’s feet, they were cut and bleeding full of sores and blisters. He fetched the bowl of water and a cloth and began to bathe the old man’s feet, first the toes, then the sole, then the whole foot, he ran inside and took ash and cobwebs from the corner of the house and ash from over the stove to rub into the bleeding cuts to stop the bleeding. The old man asked the boy if there was anything to eat, sadly the boy shook his head and looked away and down at his own bare feet. “There is no food in the house only the uncooked dough for tomorrow’s bread” replied the boy. “Could you bring me some of that?” he asked, “I am really very hungry”. This was the dough for tomorrow’s bread, the bread they would sell in order to buy their food for that day. What would his father and mother say?
What to do? What to do? What would you do?
Overcoming his fear and his uncertainty and with the clarity and innocence children have, he took a small bowl and filled it with the uncooked dough and offered it to the man. As the old man dipped his fingers into the dough and pulled some of it out. An amazing thing happened, as the dough came out it came out as bread. He broke the bread and offered some to the boy.
As the boy put the bread into his mouth it tasted like cake with raisins, sultanas, dates, and cherries. His mother sometimes made special bread called fruitcake that tasted like that. The man ate and ate. It didn’t matter how much they ate; the bowl always remained full of uncooked dough.
The boy was so glad to see the man get up off the ground and walk to the house. He ran inside to get him a stool. He grabbed all the tin plates and bowls and piled them on the table. He took some dough from the bowl and placed a little on every plate. To his joy and delight soon every plate was full to overflowing with every kind of cake, bread, and tart he had ever seen. The smell of freshly baked cake and bread carried on the air until everybody was looking out of their houses to see from where this wonderful smell came from.
As they smelt the wonderful aroma the people were filled with the promise of plenty, suddenly they knew how rich they were. They gathered up what they had in their houses and hurried towards the source of the smell. As they met their neighbors in the streets they saw what their neighbors needs were, and if they had some of what they needed they gave it to their neighbors. The smell of plenty promised them all they could desire at the house so why not share? Very soon all the township had gathered around the house, the house was lit up by the light of the star. The small boy was beside himself with joy and delight handing out cakes and bread, giving and receiving gifts from people he didn’t even know.
Every place where the water had leaked out of the bucket onto the ground grew a tree full of singing birds. The trees glowed with their own soft light which completely dispelled the darkness of the night, around the trees grew soft green cool grass. The people took the little cakes and bread and tied them onto the branches of the tree to feed the birds. They sat under the trees and they sang, clapped, talked and danced around the trees. They drank the sweet juice from the little tin cup that never emptied. Soon all the people that were crippled or lame or sick reached the house, some were in wheelbarrows even shopping carts, some were carried. As they approached they felt joy in their hearts; they felt the love of their friends and their compassion for their plight. When they reached the little house the boy gave them something to eat, and drink and the lame forgetting their lameness were lame no more and the sick were sick no more.
They called the boy Christ, Saviour but he didn’t have time to stop or be concerned, he was so full of delight and wonder as only a child can be at the miracle that was happening he didn’t stop to wonder at names or labels or worry about the strange expectations of adults.
All night the party went on until the dawn came. All this time the old man just sat on the stool and smiled. The old man said to the boy, “The dawn is coming I have to go”. The boy climbed up into his lap and hugged him. “this was the best Christmas ever”, he said. “Thank you for all your magic”. “OH no,” said the old man, ” It is I who must thank you”. “Who are you.” asked the boy his eyes wide. “I am the spirit of Christmas”, the old man replied “I am the angel from the top of the tree, I am the bringer of light, I came from the light and when the sun rises in the east I will return to the light. I am the way, the peace, and the light.” “I am the prince of a city called peace”. “I have traveled for thousands of years since the beginning of time looking for people who are pure of heart and action and willing to receive the spirit of Christmas. But now the sun is rising in the east and I must go back to my search for another Christ child. To find somebody like yourself is very difficult and rare, that is why I looked so near to death when I arrived here tonight. I had searched in vain through time and I thought that there would never be another Christmas and that I would cease to exist at all until I fell at your door. Your prayer was the answer to my prayer and you are my King and savior also.
“Do you have a name “? asked the boy, “You told me who you were but you didn’t tell me your name.” ” Ah yes, I see the difference well hmmm. I have been called many names you could call me Malchizedick which is my Hebrew name.”
The light grew in the east as the false dawn approached, the cooking fires were burning far away. “I have to go” said the old man urgently and lifted the boy down, he began to fade away as the light grew. “Wait,” cried the boy grabbing hold of his renewed cloak. “will you come back next year or are you going to leave me just like that.” How am I going to deal with all these people? what am I going to say to my father, don’t you have to give me a blessing or something”? The old man turned and stepped into the shadow on the west side of the house. Speaking quickly and urgently.
“Yes…that’s the tradition—- But well Hmm?!” “Well you see there is no coming back, I am always with you but you don’t always see Me.” ” but you know how to do it. Any time you want me just prepare the house of your heart, clean it from top to bottom, prepare it with joy and love. Bake a cake and share it with somebody you care about, give them something that you have that you know that they need, eat the cake, drink the juice of friendship, compassion and concern. For that is my body and the body of your mother in spirit, the Earth. Do this in remembrance of me and I will be here among you. You DON’T HAVE TO SEE ME FOR ME TO BE WITH YOU. You will feel my presence and you will see me in the faces of your loved ones whenever you do this”.
“Why do they call me Christ?” asked the boy. ” why do they expect me to heal all these people? I’m afraid. What if I Can’t anymore. They will be angry.” “Why did you choose me for this, I’m really very little, I’m only seven you know.” The man smiled. “Don’t worry you didn’t heal those people. They healed themselves! They felt so good about themselves and each other that they forgot why they needed to be sick in the first place. I didn’t choose you for this, remember you chose me…. You opened your heart in real love and concern. Everybody can invite the spirit of Christmas to visit them, and you only have to do that if you want to. It’s very easy as you know, just follow the magic formula, I will come and they will heal themselves.” But you said I’d never see you again” cried the boy really confused and upset now. “That’s true,” said the man “but you can call me any time.” “oh like on the cell phone,” said the boy. “Yes, but my number is toll-free.” Give me your number then” said the boy excited again now as he dashed inside to get a paper and pencil.
“You won’t need that,” said the man. Who was looking younger and younger as the sun rose.
“Just call me like this, first take your two hands and dial the area code on the fingers of your left hand
With the index finger of your right hand six digits only.” Our father who art in heaven.
“Then dial the number” Hallowed be thy name.
“Then say the magic formula you used for Christmas eve.” For thy, Kingdom is come when
thy will is done on earth, as it is in Heaven
“Then I will know it is you, just remind me about the bread. Give us this day our daily bread,
Then close your eyes allowing your love to flow out to your friends.” Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us
“Dispel all you fears about anything with the words. Thereby leading us through temptation and delivering us from evil
Then remember to give thanks in the certainty the request is already answered”
| For thine is the Kingdom, the |
power, and the glory, now, and forevermore. Amen
As the sun showed its first rays over the horizon the now young man turned into a youth. He took half a step out of the shadows and into the sun. The half that was in the sun disappeared the regenerated youth turned and asked, ” can you do that?” “Oh yes,” said the boy “no worries” good replied the youth “Oh by the way what is the name of this town?” The boy replied, “Ebakeni Lezinkwa the place where bread is baked”. “Oh yes” nodded the fading youth “I should have known, just like Bethlehem in Hebrew is the place of bread.” “The Christ is always born in the place of bread”
At the back of the house, the boy heard his father’s voice “Hey what’s this dough doing in this small bowel HEY WHO COOKED ALL THE BREAD…… WHO ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE WHERE DID ALL THESE TREES COME FROM…….WHY DOESN’T THIS BOWEL EVER GET EMPTY I WANT TO PUT PORRIDGE IN IT………HOW IS ALL THIS DOUGH COOKING ITSELF…………WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE.
Sam Sleeman JHB 2000 Thanks to Miss Karakashain for her inspirational talk on angles and Paul Solomon in 1982 for the inspiration for the phone call metaphor in this story and those other inspirers since.
