Ian and Doc initiate a successful launch

Victor in the sled

Heather and Azalea

Dale watches the launch

Copper is not impressed

The pine trees

Once upon a snowy home

The canberry bush

Victor and his mamma

Victor’s nigthtime walk

Victor, Azalea and Mallary

Victor, Azalea, Mallary and Molly

Cousins

Amy Jo Van Dyke 01.30.08

Is this a selection from one of the “Chicken Soup” books? No, it’s an account of a part of my mother’s recent experience at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. I am the daughter in the story who helps her find the shoes in the snowstorm. My niece, Amy, wrote this after her mother, my sister, told her the story. There are some fact variations in regard to meditation v. medication in the stress test, and two hours v. two days to find the shoes. Details.

When I first read this story, I was touched. My mother has been a very good grandmother over the past 30 years, and it shows in the ways that her grandchildren have responded to her illness. Narratives about her strength, flowers, phone calls, and visits have all been included in the many expressions of love and caring she has received from her grandchildren. They all see her as a mentor and role model. The story of the stress test reinforced for them that she truly is a strong person, and that if there are gods, they are smiling upon her as she journeys through this illness – as evidenced by the shoes.

The conclusion of this story for me had a bit of a twist to it though. After my mother had spent a week recovering in my home, I took her back to her house in Minnesota. I was unpacking her suitcase when I came upon the new shoes. “Where shall I put your new walking shoes?” I called out to her from the bedroom. “In the south closest next to my old ones,” she called back from her rocker in the living room. As I opened the closet door and stooped to put the new white walking shoes next to the old ones, something caught my eye. There, on the tongue of her “old” walking shoes was the same pink ribbon that caused the stir on her new shoes. I caught myself as I was about to call out, “Guess what?” I pondered for a moment what to do with the new information on the old shoes. Perhaps the pink ribbons on the new shoes were not the divine sign conjured up by some of the family after all. How would everyone feel once they knew that she’d been wearing pink ribbon shoes for at least a year prior to the breast cancer diagnosis? Would everyone think the first pair of shoes was a foreshadowing of what was to come? Was it my job to inform everyone that the pink ribbon story was turning out to be bogus? Would I somehow be blamed for spoiling the story, the myth, the mojo?

I stood up and backed away from the closet. You know, we all see the same things, but in different ways and at different times. I don’t’ think that takes away from the truth and beauty of the messages we hear. I don’t think the old shoes negated the power of the myth of the new shoes. Here’s what the shoes have taught me: The truth, beauty, strength and compassion you think you’ve just found have really always been there all along. I’m keeping my eyes wider open from now on, and paying closer attention to the things that are already in my proverbial closet.

Lori

“A Pearl of Great Price” – Lori Allen

April 1, 2007

Today is Palm Sunday.  The beginning of Holy Week for Christian traditions.  It seemed to me this would be a good day to talk about Jesus and his ministry.  Now I know, by virtue of living in our Christian culture, we all know the messages of Jesus’ ministry.  It’s not too controversial, and for the most part, we can all agree to embrace Jesus’ messages:  Love your neighbor as yourself – good.  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you – makes sense.  Whatever ye sow, so shall ye reap – cause and effect.  Help the poor, care for the sick – we all want to do our part here.  Don’t judge other people – good advice; seek the kingdom of heaven within yourself – hmm, not so clear on this one.

We may agree on Jesus’ messages, but not the religion that bears his name.  What is it that is so controversial about this religion that many of us do not call ourselves Christians today?  Let me share a parable with you from Tom Harpur’s book “For Christ’s Sake.”  Mr. Harpur is a former Catholic priest who argues that contemporary America needs a radically new understanding of Jesus’ message.  Here’s the parable, paraphrased a bit:

There once was a vast desert, void of all vegetation but the hardiest thorns and briars.  Through the middle of the dessert stretched a rough highway along which all of humanity was making its pilgrimage.  They straggled along footsore and thirsty, tired and frightened by many nameless fears.

But at one point along the way a clear spring of running water bubbled up out of a naked rock.  No one knew who first discovered it; that secret has long since been lost.  Yet for countless generations the people journeying along the road stopped to refresh themselves there.  And as they did so, they found to their surprise and delight that the waters not only quenched their thirst, but satisfied deeper needs as well.  Somehow, in drinking at that source they found their minds and bodies healed, their hopes and courage growing strong again.  Life became rich with fresh meaning.  They found they could pick up their various burdens and take to the highway with new hearts.  They called the spot “the place of living waters” and the spring itself was called “the water of life.”

Now as time went on, certain people began to roll boulders around the spring as monuments of gratitude.  As generations and centuries passed, those monuments became more elaborate and ornate,  arched over by a great fortress-like cathedral and protected by high stone walls.  A special caste of men, with special robes and a language all their own, came into being to set rules for preserving the purity of the well.  Access was no longer free to all, and disagreements as to who could drink there, and when, and how, sometimes grew so bitter that wars were fought over the spring.

The victors of these wars always put up more monuments in gratitude for winning, and so it was that, as the years rolled by, the spring itself was bricked over and lost from view.  No one remembered when exactly it was done or by whom. The pilgrims complained about the loss, and many were found fainting or even near death on the road.  Those now in charge either mocked their cries or simply ignored them.  Beautiful ceremonies were carried out inside the holy place to celebrate what the well had done for pilgrims many years before, while at the very gates people were dying of thirst.

Eventually other water was piped in, at great expense, from distant places, but it seemed a mere shadow compared to the reality that once had been there for all to enjoy.  And so in the end the vast majority of people who journeyed along that route avoided the now-sacred “place of living waters” and survived in whatever way they could.  Many, when they passed the shrine and recalled the stories they had learned in youth about the hidden spring, were seized with nostalgia and longings too deep to utter.  Others struggled on, embittered by cynical doubt that the healing waters had ever existed at all.  But sometimes on a still night, if you pass the shrine, it is said that you can hear a faint echo of running water miraculously pouring over a rock.[1]

I have been one of the pilgrims on the route that passed the shrine, filled with a longing that was too deep to utter.  But I must say, I have always been filled with a longing for an active spiritual life.  When I decided that Christianity didn’t work for me, I kept longing for and seeking the spiritual. 

             When I first heard this parable, I was a daily practitioner of Eknath Easwaran’s Eight Point Meditation program.  This method of meditation consists of saying slowly in the mind the words of inspirational passages that express one’s highest ideals.  The passages are chosen from scriptures and mystics of all religions. To everyone, regardless of faith, Eknath recommended beginning with the Prayer of St. Francis: “Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light; Where there is sadness, joy; O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.”[2]             As an “ex-Christian” I was resistant to using the Prayer of St. Francis for my inspirational passage.  I avoided anything with a Christian context as it gave me a discomfort that I just couldn’t define.  But when I read Tom Harpur’s book and read the parable of the living waters, it made me wonder – what if I were to be one of those people who sat quietly in the dark and listened for the sound of the flowing water?  What if I were to listen to the stories of Jesus’ life and teaching in a new light and reclaim any that might hold meaning and truth for me?  It was a relief for me to stop avoiding any Christian teachings – it made my daily practice of meditation so much easier.  I was able to be open to all sacred texts and stories without holding a bias for anything Christian.   To help you understand, I will share with you the eight points of Eknath’s meditation plan:  The first step is to slowly repeat a whole or part of a sacred text while meditating; Second, repetition of a mantra at random times during the day, and when falling asleep; Next is slowing down, rid yourself of non-essential activities; Fourth, giving one-pointed attention.  This means no multi-tasking; Fifth, training the senses.  This point refers to healthy choices for our body and mind;  Sixth is putting the welfare of others first; Seventh is spiritual community and companionship; and finally, number eight is reading from the scriptures and mystics of all religions and spiritual traditions.             In the beginning of Easwaran’s book “Meditation”, and in his meditation workshops, he claims that following this form of meditation will bring more peace and joy into your consciousness, the goal being a higher state of consciousness.  He calls this higher state of consciousness by many different names:  illumination, enlightenment, nirvana, self-realization and entering the kingdom of heaven – within.  Whatever the language, the experience is everywhere the same.  Jesus called it “a pearl of great price.”  Without it, our lives will always be wanting; even if we have to give everything on earth to obtain it, the cost would not be too high to pay.[3]             Let me talk more about number eight, reading from the scriptures and mystics of all religions.  Since we are entering Holy Week in the Christian tradition, I will share some of my reflections from that period of Jesus’ life as recorded in the Christian scriptures.               Today is Palm Sunday – named for the way Jesus was welcomed to Jerusalem more than 2000 years ago.  His reputation as a fearless activist preceded him, and he was welcomed by the curious and hopeful who spread his path with palm fronds. They thought his words and deeds on his visit to Jerusalem might shake up the hierarchy that was oppressing the weak and powerless people of that time and place.  He was an early activist, highly critical of the social and political systems of the day.  Yet his words, his deeds and his actions got him in trouble.  So much so, that he was put to death by the political pundits of the day, the Romans, who also crucified thousands of other Jewish troublemakers during their occupation of the ancient Middle East.   

            I get the crucifixion.  There are stories about other activists who have been assassinated or put to death for their words and deeds.  Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., St. Joan of Arc, and many more famous and infamous souls.  They all had good messages and bad timing.   What I struggle with is the resurrection of Jesus.  The story of Jesus’ resurrection, real or metaphoric, must have greatly affected those who knew him.  As we know the story still affects many people living today.  But why do we only believe it happened once?  Why not with the other great activists of the world who died a violent death?  I came across a short essay by Philip Hallie entitled “An Apology to My Mother.”  It is one of the most well described resurrection stories I have heard.  Written in the form of a letter, Hallie reflects on his mother’s passing which had occurred just nine days earlier.  He writes:

Your death has done some strange things to your son.  And I feel what it has done more sharply now, here in Connecticut, than I felt it while I was burying you in Chicago.  One of the things it has done is to make it impossible for me to lie to you anymore.  Before…[you died], I used to say to myself, “She is there, in Chicago.  She’ll never find out.”…No more.  I once thought that death is only parting, but it is more strange than that.  Now I feel that you were separate from me before you died.  While you were alive you were there, outside of me, there in Chicago, or there across the table stroking your right eyebrow and dreaming.  I could think my own thoughts, I could plan my own travels, and I could feel my own guilty disdain for your fears. 

But now you are within me as you have never been before.  Now there is nothing you cannot find out about my thoughts.  Sometimes I am like an empty house that is full of your spirit, your fears, and your sense of humor….  It was only your body we buried in that hole on that rainy day in May, your body, which was always separate from me, ever since you gave birth to me.  I feel your soul as I never felt it before you died.  Life parted us, not death.[4]

            This is a resurrection story.  Perhaps this is the feeling that Jesus’ friends and disciples had after his death.  How many times do we hear people tell someone that their loved ones will always live on in memories?  Is that not a resurrection of sorts?  I have to honestly say that I do not believe that Jesus literally rose from the dead, but I do believe in resurrections, even resurrections without death.

            A few years ago, Rebecca Parker, President of Starr King UU Theological School in California presented the program for the LREDA conference. That is the annual conference for Liberal Religious Educators.  Ms. Parker is an ordained Methodist minister and in dual fellowship with the Unitarian Universalist Association.  She was speaking that year about UU Philosophy and Theology.  While I have extensive notes on her lectures, and have often referred to them when thinking about or explaining UU Philosophy, it was a personal story she shared that I remember most vividly from that conference.  This story is told in the book “A Proverb of Ashes” which she co-wrote.  Here is and excerpt from her story:

“Everything I most loved had slipped out of my hands.  I felt there was nothing left to hold on to—not my marriage, not my child, not my faith.

I spiraled into grief and self-directed anger.  One night I came to the end of my will to live.  I just wanted the anguish to stop.  It was a cold, clear night.  I lived at the top of a hill above a lake and sometime after midnight I left my house and started walking down the hill.  The water would be cold enough.  I could walk into it, then swim, then let go, sink down into the darkness and go home to God.  The thought was comforting.  I had no second thoughts.  I was set on my course.

At the bottom of the hill, I had only a small grassy rise to cross before I came to the water’s edge.  I crested the familiar rise and began the descent to the welcoming water when I was caught short by a barrier that hadn’t been there before.  It looked like a long line of oddly shaped sawhorses, laid out to the left and to the right, the width of the grassy field.  In the dark, I couldn’t see a way to get around either end, but it looked like I could climb over the middle.  I quickened my pace, impelled by the grief that wouldn’t let go of me.  As I got closer, the dark forms before my eyes seemed to be moving.  I squinted to understand what I was seeing.

The odd bunchy shapes were a line of human beings bundled up in parkas and hats.  The stick shapes weren’t sawhorses.  They were telescopes.  It was the Seattle Astronomy Club.  Before I could make my way through the line, one of them looked up from his eyeglass and, presuming me to be an astronomer, said with enthusiasm, “I’ve got it focused perfectly on Jupiter.  Come, take a look.” 

I didn’t want to be rude or give away my reason for being there, so I bent down and looked through the telescope.  There was Jupiter, banded red and glowing!  “Isn’t it great?” he said.  It was great.  Jupiter was beautiful through the telescope.

I couldn’t kill myself in the presence of these people who had gotten up in the middle of a cold night, with their home-built Radio Shack telescopes, to look at the planets and the stars.

The beauty of the night sky, the dew wet grass at my feet, and the Seattle Astronomy Club kept me in this world.

It would be wrong to think of this moment as one in which joy triumphed over despair, good came out of bad, or love of life defeated desire for death.  I did not defeat negative feelings of anguish and despair because I saw something more lovely and good.  My heart was still breaking with grief, but I became able to feel more.  I was able to place that grief within a larger heart, within a wider embrace that could hold sorrow and joy, loss and illumination, death and life.[5]            This, to me, is a resurrection story.  Finding a new way to go on when we don’t think it’s possible to go on.   This is a modern story, one we can understand, even possibly relate to.  It inspires us, it reminds us that our lives are sacred and that we can learn from spiritual leaders who are alive today who have been able to articulate and cull their personal experiences and stories into lessons for our lives.  These lessons, the parable of the living water, the letter to a mother, and Rev. Parker’s story; these are culturally relative stories for our lives.               Is it possible to find the same meaning and value in the stories and parables of Jesus’ ministry?  I believe it is.  The stories are sometimes hard to integrate into the lives we lead today.  But we can see a pattern.  For as long as history has been recorded, there are stories about people doing the right thing, extraordinary people trying to right social wrongs and lift up all people.  I agree with Jesus and with Eknath Easwaran that we can find the kingdom of heaven within ourselves, that pearl of great price, through spiritual practice.  Or perhaps the pearl of great price is the life we live, conscious of how our actions affect others and the earth we live on.  Perhaps that pearl is what we do when putting other’s needs ahead of our own.  Perhaps we all have a pearl that is unique to us.  Is it your life’s work?  The people you call family?  The stories you share?  Or perhaps it’s your willingness to listen to those who need to be heard?  Could it be the work you do to promote peace in our world?  If you know what your pearl of great price is, hold it close.  If not, seek your pearl of great price.  Look for it in stories from all ages and all traditions.  Live it through your thoughts and deeds.

            Many years after last participating in a Yulebukk, I looked this odd custom up on the web.  It seems that the Norse God of Thunder, Thor, owned a goat who was his guardian and defender.  At the winter solstice each year, Thor’s goat, or the Yulebukk, came to collect gifts of oats or wheat, gifts that showed gratitude and homage for his master.   People were required to symbolically give the Yulebukk gifts from the most recent harvest, usually oats or wheat.  People who did not set aside these gifts would probably receive a visit from Thor’s trolls – a punishment for ignoring the Yulebukk.  When I learned about the Yulebukk myth online, the Yulebukking tradition made more sense to me. 

            Each December 21, before dawn and no later than 4 AM, the farmers who lived furthest from the church would rise and go out to their barns.  There they would find from the last harvest of oats or wheat, shocks of the grain that had been prepared for this date.  The shocks where about as thick as a man’s arm, two to three feet in length and tied around with strands of the grain.  These shocks were kept in a safe place in the barn, hidden from the trolls.  Now after the farmers found their shocks of grain, they would break them up and feed them to the animals on their farm.  If there were goats on the farm, they received the first feeding, then the other animals.  These shocks were not a great amount of feed, but the animals would always come up to the barn or to the gate of their pens to receive them.  Sometimes the animals would get their regular morning feeding after the shocks of grain had been distributed. 

            After the first farmers had gone through this process, they would piled their flatbed wagons or sleighs with bales of straw or hay, wool quilts and furs and then hitch them to their tractors.  The farmers would travel to a near neighbor’s farm and help the neighbor find the hidden shocks of grain in the barn and feed the animals in correct order.  These neighbors would go on with the first farmer to yet another neighbor’s farm to do the same.  On and on this went, until all the families in the church had been visited and the animals fed the special shocks of grain.  Now when your farm was visited, if you were a child who was old enough, you would dress warmly and help feed the animals on your own farm when the Yulebukking party arrived and then ride under the heavy on the wagon or sleigh to another neighbor’s to help with this Yulebukking process.  In a few hours time, the wagon was piled high with men, a few women, and what seemed like dozens of children.  As the tractor and its cargo drove slowly down the gravel roads, Christmas Carols could be heard above the fast putter of the cold engine.  If not singing, you could hear laughing or screams for the driver to stop for someone fallen off the wagon.  Even though it was often bitter cold on these early mornings, it was always fun.   And all children knew, complaining about the cold might bring a scolding or admonishment later, and perhaps even a threat of not participating the next year.  Everyone would huddle against the bales, rubbing their hands together, holding a mittened hand over their mouth if they didn’t have a scarf.  Children would cover their bodies, heads and all, with the dusty quilts and furs, coming up for air only when they imagined they were suffocating.   

            Just as the dawn began to break the tractors and their cargo of Yulebukkers would end up at the church, the final stop for all the Yulebukking wagons.  A small crystal cloud of freezing breath traveled a few inches in front of the tractor driver’s face, while a larger cloud of cyrstalized carbon monoxide was content to linger over the revelers on the wagons.   By the time the wagons arrived in the church yard, some of the younger children, especially those who had been riding for a few hours, were crying because they were so cold.  Many of the older children would try to run behind the wagons while having a snowball fight, and always, the carols kept on.

            What waited for the Yulebukker’s arrival at the church was almost as good as the Yulebukking ride itself.  The older women and some of the mothers with very young children came to the church as the Yulebukking started, rather than riding on the wagons.  There they prepared fried palt to serve with warm milk and butter in the basement fellowship hall.  For the good children who cleaned their plates, white sugar lefse and rosette cookies sprinkled with powdered sugar were served. 

            After the meal, we all filed upstairs to the sanctuary for a church service.  After the service, the adults would stand around and talk about how cold it was, or how difficult it had been to find someone’s shocks of grain for their animals.  I once overheard my grandfather say, “It’s a good think Jalmer brought the extra grains this year.  The trolls must of made off with the grain laid in at Zingmark’s.”  There was a detailed discussion about where they had looked and what evidence there was of mischief at that farm.  This was not the first time I had heard my usually serious and very pragmatic  grandfather reference trolls.  Whenever cattle broke through a fence, or tires went flat, or windows were broken on grandpa’s farm, if you followed him around as he examined evidence, trying to surmise what had happened, you could often see him scoff at the damage and say as he exhaled “Damn trolls.”  Later that morning, riding on the flatbed wagon back to our farm, I was sitting with my grandfather, sharing his quilt, trying to get close enough to this cold and abrasive person to share some warmth.  “Grandpa,” I asked.  “Are there really such things as trolls?”  He was silent for what seemed an eternity, I was sure he didn’t hear me or worse, he did not intend to answer.  Then, almost under his breath, as he exhaled I heard him reply,  “Not that your Grandmother will let me say.”       

    Victor                                                                                                         Azalea         

Victor and his Mamma – my daughter Mallary.   

   Azalea and her Daddy – my son Ian.  (Note his T-shirt)

More pics – with my children’s partners- and of other children and relatives to come! 

For those of you who are in the play or have children in the play, I’m attaching the script.  For anyone who may be googling and found this play – please contact me via comments to this blog for permission – or at least notice – that you’ll be using or adapting this script.  As you will note, the original Ysaye Barnwell song, “We Are,” is only to be used by the UUFA on December 24, 2007.  Any other use of this song will need the written express permission of Ms. Barnwell.  I can give you contact information if you need that.

Here’s the script:

THE MAGIC LIFESAVING STICK, a traditional folk tale adapted to be -

 “The Journey to Bethlehem”  by Lori Allen 

SYNOPSIS

Rabbit and Porcupine (and The Band) are traveling to Bethlehem to attend the Hanukkah Folk Song Competition.  On their way, they meet a variety of characters who are also traveling to Bethlehem, but not for the folk festival.  The fellow travelers are going to see what all the commotion is about the birth of a special baby.  The play gives us a glimpse of their experiences and how they learn the value and worth of all individuals as fellow travelers.  The play ends with Rabbit and Porcupine waxing philosophically about the potential of each child born as a worth filled individual and eventual fellow traveler.

STAGING

The piano and any other musicians are set to the right (south) of the west window.  The stage is set in front of the window and is large enough to accommodate 8-10 people at a time and their props. 

There is a black wall behind the sliding door into the auditorium.  This is where the final scene in the play takes place.  At the end of the play, the door will be slid open to reveal the nativity scene.   The whole cast, including the “live” scenery will be included in the final scene.  Depending on the number of participants, there could be 30-40 bodies.

The actors will be entering via the door at the back of the hall.  They will make their way around the perimeter of the room to the stage area by the west window.  They will exit to the large sliding door, which will be partially open, to take their place in the nativity scene at the end of the play.

SCENE I

[We begin the play with the congregation singing Light One Candle, #221 in the UU Hymnal.  The band, with Rabbit and Porcupine as vocalists, accompanies this song.]

Light One Candle

Rabbit:  That was great.  Thanks everyone.  We’re sure to get first place at the Hanukkah Folk Festival in Bethlehem with that song.

Porcupine:  Not necessarily!

Narrator:  Porcupine and Rabbit were excited to be traveling with their band to this important festival.  It seemed a long way to go – over a brook, across a swamp, through a forest and up a few steep hills.

Rabbit: This is going to be such a long journey.  We shall be really tired by the time we get to Bethlehem.  I guess it won’t be our fault if we don’t get first place at the festival, it will be the fault of the journey.

Porcupine: Not necessarily!  But, cheer up rabbit, we will walk together. Walking together makes the road seem half as long.

Rabbit: You’re right Porcupine.  I am so glad to have you to share the journey.

Narrator: The two started down the road, talking and walking, walking and talking until, all of a sudden, WHAM, they tripped over a long, straight stick which lay in the middle of the road.

Rabbit: Stupid stick! It doesn’t belong here.  (She picks up stick and throws it to the side.)

Porcupine: Not necessarily! This may be a magic lifesaving stick! (He retrieves the stick.)

Rabbit: Bosh! That’s just a stupid old stick.

(The “brook” (Adin Mann, Suzanne Zilber Mann and Morgan Feeley) walks toward the front of the sanctuary, rippling the fabric as they walk.  As the narrator talks, the brook comes to the front of the room and places the fabric brook on the floor, continuing to ripple the fabric on the floor.)

Narrator: They continued down the road, talking and walking, walking and talking. Porcupine used the stick as a cane and looked at the road now and then, now and then. Soon they came to a narrow brook.

Porcupine: (Standing behind the brook on the floor in front of them.) How can we ever cross that?

Rabbit: Like this! (She runs and leaps over the brook easily.  Porcupine just stares at the brook.)  Your turn! Throw away that stick and jump.

Porcupine:   (Porcupine puts the stick on the ground and makes a half-hearted attempt to jump but knows it won’t work.) I can’t do it. With my short legs, I can’t jump across like you can.

Rabbit: Then we will have to part company. Good-bye, Porcupine!  (Rabbit waves and turns to walk away.  She stops when she hears Porcupine’s voice.)

Porcupine: Not necessarily. This magic lifesaving stick may help me. Let me think.  (Porcupine picks up the sticks, places one end of it firmly “in” the brook and jumps across, using the stick to aid him.  After he crosses, the Brook stands up and goes to stage right.  The brook scrunches up a bit to fit into the space to the right of the sliding door, constantly “rippling” very quietly as the play progresses.  Rabbit and Porcupine walk in place “talking” silently and pointing things out as they travel.)

Narrator:  This truly was a magic life saving stick.  Porcupine was able to continue the journey with Rabbit.  As they walked along, walking and talking and talking and walking, they shared stories and songs, enjoying each other’s company.  Ahead of them, they could see a forest looming.  The wind through the trees seemed to bring a melodic sound.  A sound that almost sounded like a message – a message about something unfamiliar to them. (The band begins softly playing #224, Let Christmas Come)  This unfamiliar melody seemed to be humming about something called Christmas.  Please join us now as we bring this melody to our travelers.  Please, as you stay seated, join us in singing hymn number 224 in our hymnal, Let Christmas Come.

Let Christmas Come    

(During the song, the trees walk onto stage right by Porcupine and Rabbit, who are singing, or pretending to sing the hymn.   Tortoise walks in with the trees. She is stuck, and gently struggling to get free of a branch (which is really the arm of the tree).  After the song ends, Rabbit and Porcupine look up and see the tree with the tortoise in it.)

Rabbit:  Look at that poor creature.  She’s a goner.

Porcupine:  Not necessarily.  (Porcupine goes over to the tree and puts the stick between the Tortoise and the branch.  He gently pries the branch until it releases the struggling Tortoise.)  There you go friend.  (As Tortoise is released, the trees move to stage left and stand in place behind the still gently rippling brook.  They stand there quietly as the play progresses.)

Tortoise: Oh thank you so much, I thought I would never get free, oh how my life flashed before my eyes, you have saved my life!

Narrator:  Porcupine, who was a bit shy about Tortoise gushing over him, explained that it was the right thing for him to do.  He explained that all people should help others in need. 

Tortoise: Is there anything I can do for you to repay this great act?

Porcupine:  Not necessarily . . . . er, (Porcupine is about to say no when he realizes something.)  actually, we are traveling to Bethlehem, Rabbit and I.  The journey seems so much more pleasant with the two of us, a third companion would increase the joy of this journey even more!  Can you join us?  You could learn our songs that we will be singing at a music festival in Bethlehem.  

Tortoise: Bethlehem?  Are you going to see the special baby?  I was thinking about heading there as well.  I’ll be happy to join you.

Rabbit: What’s all this about a baby?  We didn’t know anything about a baby, we’re just going to compete in the Hanukkah music festival.

Tortoise: Look up there.  (Tortoise points to a large star that is over the trees and the brook.)  I heard those trees I was stuck in say that the star is going to lead them to an important baby!

Rabbit:  So I’m NOT crazy! 

Porcupine:  Not necessarily.

Rabbit:  I thought I saw those trees move.  They seemed to be walking!

Tortoise:  All sorts of weird things seem to be happening tonight.  As long as we’re headed to Bethlehem, we may as well follow the star, too.

(Porcupine and Rabbit look at each other and shrug.  All three of the travelers begin walking.)

Narrator:  And so our travelers were traveling again, walking and talking, talking and walking, following the star that was shining so bright.  (Band begins softly playing hymn #238, Within the Shining of a Star.)  Please join us in singing hymn #238 in our hymnal, Within the Shining of a Star.Within the Shining of a Star

(As the song is being sung, the Friendly Beasts come in, stage left of the travelers.  They are excited, pointing to the star.  After the song, the Wolf runs in, waving his paws at them.  They scream and huddle together – very afraid of him.  The three travelers turn around to see what the commotion is.)

Rabbit:  Look at those poor beasts!  They’re goners.

Porcupine: Not necessarily.  (Porcupine holds his stick up and charges the wolf.  He scares the wolf back to where he came from.  Rabbit and Tortoise are shielding the friendly beasts.)  He shouldn’t be a problem for you any longer.  Is everyone okay?

Friendly Beasts:  Yes, thank you.  (They all answer at once, some hug the travelers.)

Rabbit:  Lucky for all of you that I came along to rescue you.  (Rabbit postures, shaking his fist in the direction the wolf ran off.)  I scared that poor miserable beast away.

Porcupine: Not necessarily, (long pause) it was our lifesaving stick that allowed us to help you. 

(All beasts and travelers start “talking” silently to each other as the narrator speaks.)

Narrator: Once again, the magic lifesaving stick has proved its worth.  Now, the funny thing about this gathering of friendly beasts, they told our travelers that THEY were going to Bethlehem to see this wonderous baby.   They said they heard they might even be able to share some of their gifts with the babe - their wool, their hay – anything this miracle baby might need.  Please join us in singing hymn #243 in our hymnal, Jesus, Our Brother, as our friends continue their journey to Bethlehem.

Jesus, Our Brother

(As the song is sung, the friendly beasts wave and scurry off towards the trees and brook.  They exit the room through the partially open door.  Also, during the song, the shepherds and angels appear, entering stage left of the three travelers.  The shepherds are shaking their heads in disbelief as the angels keep nodding “yes” and pointing to the star.)

Narrator:  Just as the Friendly Beasts were leaving, the travelers noticed more commotion coming down the path.  They didn’t even get a chance to begin walking and talking, talking and walking.  Truly this was a strange journey.  (Angels and shepherds move to center stage.)

Tortoise:  Greetings! Are you real angels?  (They nod yes.)

Rabbit:  Oh bother!  Don’t tell me you’re traveling to Bethlehem to see this new baby, too?  (Angels and shepherds nod yes.)  This is ridiculous!  Babies are cute and all that, but this is nuts!

Porcupine: Not necessarily. (Porcupine scratches his chin as if thinking.  The angels, shepherds and travelers gather around porcupine to hear him speak.) 

Narrator:  That Porcupine.  He seemed more wise than those he traveled with.  (Wolf begins sneaking up on this group.)  He explained that it’s good to question what we hear, but it is also good not to discount things we do not know for sure.  He encouraged the shepherds to go with the angels to Bethlehem and find out for themselves the truth of the story.  Just as they were leaving . . . . (Wolf jumps up in front of the angels and shepherds.)

Wolf:  Snarl, growl, etc.

Rabbit:  (Screaming.)  Help, help, we all goners!  We’re going to be eaten alive!

Porcupine:  Not necessarily.  (He holds up the magic lifesaving stick at the wolf.)  Calm down there.  Don’t make me chase you off again.  (The wolf hangs his head and backs away.)

Tortoise:  Sad fellow.  What’s wrong with you?

Wolf:  (Shrugs)

Rabbit:  Hit him with the stick!  He’s going to eat the angels!  He’s dangerous!  He wants to eat us all! (Wolf hides his face in his paws and cowers as Rabbit is screaming.)

Porcupine:  Not necessarily.  This does not look like a wolf who is trying to harm anyone.  (To the angels and shepherds) You go on ahead, we’ll stay and try to see if we can help this little fella. (Angels and shepherds move past the brook and trees, out the partially open sliding door.  The door closes after their exit.) 

Narrator:  So the angels and shepherds scurried on ahead, leaving our travelers to deal with the wolf.  Join us now as we sing hymn #231 in our hymnal, Angels We Have Heard on High, as our travelers try to find out what is up with Mr. Wolf.  (Our travelers and Wolf stand around talking in a very animated motion – sometimes gesturing to the star, finally, standing and listening to the hymn.)

Angels We Have Heard on High

(During the rest of the play, the creche scene is set up behind the sliding door.  The holy couple, wise people, friendly beasts, angels and shepard all gather around the creche.)

Narrator:  (Travelers and Wolf talk slowly to each other, shake hands, nod their heads in understanding, pat each other on the backs, etc.)  Now, it took some time, but what our travelers heard from Wolf was quite an amazing story.  Seems that the woods had been full of people that night who were traveling to Bethlehem.  They were talking about a star and a baby and wise people coming from afar.  It frightened Wolf to have so many strange creatures in his forest where it was usually dark and quiet at night.  He hadn’t really been trying to eat, or even harm the friendly beasts or the angels or the shepherds or our travelers.  He was simply trying to get more information so he could decide for himself if this story was true, or even if it held a message that could be useful to him in his life.  Once our travelers learned the wolf was not dangerous, they invited him to travel with them.  So off they went, walking and talking, talking and walking.  (The three travelers and the wolf all grab the magic walking stick and begin walking and chatting, pointing to the star and other things every now an then.)Tortoise:  It seems when we all hold the stick that it isn’t even any work at all to walk so far.

(During the last verse of the song, Rabbit and his family come back in from stage right.  The baby bunnies are hugging him, glad to see him.  Wolf, Porcupine and Tortoise are hanging behind.  Porcupine has the stick. They stop in front of the doors/stream/trees.  Meanwhile, the three wise people are coming in from the back, stage left from the rabbit family scene.  They stop when the see the rabbits and friends and just look at them. One of the Wise People is carrying a walking stick.)

Baby Rabbits:   Papa, Papa! Welcome home!

Mrs. Rabbit: My dear partner, you are home!

Rabbit: Yes, thanks to Porcupine and his magic lifesaving stick.

Narrator:  Rabbit told her family of how they had walked and talked and how the magic lifesaving stick had saved them so many times.  The wise people overhead this story and were amazed as well.  Everyone wanted to examine the magic life saving stick.  Finally, the wise people gave the stick back to Porcupine.  They explained that they were on a journey themselves.  They had heard about the birth of a baby.  The wise people explained that each time they heard of a baby being born, they gathered to show their love and support for the family.  These wise people knew that each baby, any baby, born in our world is a symbol of hope.  Who knows which baby born will grow up to be a great peace maker?  Who knows which baby will discover a cure for painful diseases?  Who knows which babies will change the world for the better?  These wise people know there is no limit to the potential for each child who is born.  And so they invited the travelers and Rabbit family to go just a short distance further to see this baby.  (Everyone turns towards the door.)

Mrs. Rabbit: Wait!  Oh, I do wish our family had a magic lifesaving stick.

Porcupine:  Here, take this one.  (Hands his walking stick to Rabbit.)

Rabbit:  I wouldn’t dream of asking for your stick.  How could you get along without a magic lifesaving stick?

Porcupine:  I’ll find another. One can always find another stick.

Rabbit: But how will you find another MAGIC stick??

Porcupine: I’ll tell you a secret, a secret these wise people know, a secret that true seekers know. The magic isn’t in the stick. It’s up here (indicates head) and in here (indicates heart.).

Rabbit: I understand! A creative mind and a kind heart can turn anything into magic…and anyone into a friend, or even a savior. (The door opens to reveal the creche scene.)

Wise Person:  Excuse me.   We have a baby to welcome.  (The wise people push past the group.  The one with the walking stick hands the baby or the holy couple the stick.)

Narrator: And with that, our travelers joined all who had gathered at this birth. And Rabbit had much to think about.  (Rabbit steps up from the creche scene, hand on chin as if he’s thinking.)  He realized that you can find magic in everyday objects, that there is strength and caring in each friendship, and that each child that is born holds the future in their heart.  Please join our cast of characters and the band as they sing the song they’ve prepared for this festive night.  The words are printed in your order of service.  It is “We Are”, a song written by Ysaye Barnwell, founding member of Sweet Honey in the Rock.  This song is used with her permission.

We Are

(Entire cast stays in the creche scene singing the song.)

(After the song, the entire cast comes to the front of the Fellowship Hall.  As people applaud, everyone bows.  After the first bow, all characters tip their hands to the travelers as they bow.  The whole cast tips their hand to the narrator as she bows or nods acknowledgement.  Everyone exits stage right out the large sliding door.)

Lori