|
Book Review
Illustrated book engages the true meaning of Christmas debate
Reviewed by Andrew Junker, ajunker@catholicsun.org
December 4, 2008
The Christmas wars are almost upon us again. The ones where lists are compiled online cataloguing which department stores wish their patrons a Merry Christmas and which ones offer a more anodyne Season’s Greetings or Happy Holidays.
And while some cynics might think the occasion exists merely to give the nightly news programs something to feel righteously indignant about for a few weeks, a couple of young writers have used it to meditate upon — yes, you’ve guessed it — the true meaning of Christmas.
Thankfully, their efforts resulted in “The Cross and the Water Tower,” an illustrated book that engages the debate in a way that’s playful, enjoyable and more than a little deft.
Patrick and Mary Mangan, who wrote the book, and K.P. Sullivan, who provided the line drawings, open with the Archangel Gabriel surveying the town of Wauconda, Ill., a few days before Christmas.
“Angel Gabriel soared through the dark winter sky,” they write. “The mighty angel paused and blew his trumpet. The sun nodded and sent rays through the darkness, parting the clouds like curtains on a stage. And there below in the spotlight was the small village of Wauconda.”
Soon, they continue, it will be Christmas.
“Lights were strung. Christmas trees peeked through windows. The villagers hustled about, getting ready for the big day,” they write.
And the Water Tower Club — a group of children led by the tilting-at-windmills-prone Casey — rushed from their last day of school to the town’s water tower for a meeting.
Casey, whose constant reverie includes a charming collection of damsels, dragons, Little John and Maid Marian, opens the meeting with a prayer for a Christmas adventure and fresh snow that packs well.
But during the reading of the group’s agenda — which included formal congratulations for Tracy’s entering kindergarten and an update on Alfred’s missing baseball card collection — two shadowy men approached the site in cars.
Mr. Birdie, a grumpy villager, and an unknown Mr. Herbert walked towards the water tower, adorned with its decades-old cross that the town lights up every Christmas. The gang listened in as the two men seethed over the public display of Christianity on public grounds.
And in a flash, Casey had his quixotic adventure for the term break. The group hurried back to Casey’s father, who is mayor of Wauconda, and asked for guidance. He called a town meeting and asked them to distribute fliers describing the situation.
Thankfully, the story at this point doesn’t turn into a procedural drama of writs and judges, injunctions and briefs. The shadowy men attend the town meeting and threaten a lengthy court battle, which the town people have little stomach or money for.
The children also gain a good bit of advice from the wise Pastor Stevens — also a bit of a romantic, he describes a winter jog as a “poem.”
Pastor Stevens asks the kids what the meaning of Christmas is. “Jesus,” they dutifully reply.
“Yes, it’s about Jesus. Sadly, some people want to change the meaning of Christmas and make it just a party,” Pastor Stevens replies.
“There are people who don’t want to remember Jesus. And they don’t want anyone else to remember Him,” he continues. “Today, Joseph and Mary still find no room in the inn. Just remember, whatever happens, to always have room in your hearts for Jesus.”
The kids then approach Fr. Schmidt, who is kneeling before his church’s altar. He also points out that though it’s a shame the men want to take down such and old and venerable symbol, it’s far more important for the townspeople to keep Christ’s cross always in their hearts.
Water towers come and go, he seems to say, as does the warm feeling that comes with righteously screaming “Merry Christmas” to the poor store clerk who got the memo to wish you “Season’s Greetings.”
What matters is keeping focused on Christ every day throughout the year. And though that message might seem obvious, actually living it in our fallen world is a quest difficult enough for even the most chivalrous and daring knight, Casey realizes.
I won’t spoil the ending, except to say it pleases everyone involved — except for the shadowiest of the shadowy men. It even pleases Gabriel, who blows his trumpet again and sends snow over the town, the good packing kind.
Media critic Andrew Junker is a staff writer for The Catholic Sun. Comments are welcome. Send e-mail to letters@catholicsun.org.
|
