Part 1
Ms. Wombart stood outside in the parking lot of Stokely Carmichael Middle School, getting in some last minute vaping. It was almost November, and she was facing a deadline. The senior faculty had chosen her to be in charge of the Winter Program before Winter Break. It’s a job nobody wanted, but she was the new hire, so it fell to her.
The Winter Program had become a minefield of religious avoidance since she was a kid. There could be no more Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanza. They had gotten away with Festivus a couple years ago, with some of the kids dressed as characters from Seinfeld. But the songs were a mish-mash of Taylor Swift, Nickelback, and Bruno Mars. Nobody liked it much, and there was talk of bagging it altogether. But the school board had ordered all schools in the district to “do something nice” for the holidays. Ms. Wombart slipped back into the building and headed to her homeroom class.
She entered the chaotic classroom, braced with a fresh shot of nicotine and an idea. She looked out on her collection of hormonal hooligans and called out, “Class! I need your help!” There was a brief pause in the noise, and a familiar voice filled it. “What you need, Ms. Dubya.”
A tall black kid, standing on a desk, had stopped dancing to give her his response. He was recognized as a leader among the others because he was the oldest and boldest. He’d been held back a few years ago, and his head was a tangle of cornrows fashioned into a crown. He was Patty Wombart’s fixer; the kid she could manipulate into getting the other ducks in a row. He had a crush on her and she knew it.
“Demetrius, I knew I could count on you. But I really need the whole class to help me brainstorm, because they will have to participate!” The entire class groaned. Demetrius motioned them to pipe down.
“You will have their full cooperation. What’s the problem that we can solve?”
“It’s the Winter Program.”
“Problem solved!” declared Demetrius. “A dance off!” The groaning resumed.
“If I may, Ms. Wombart,” another boy said, rising to his feet. “How about a talent show? Stokely Carmichael Middle School Has Talent?” Eric Weisman was a skinny kid with a mop of black curls, and he spread his arms out wide, like the apparent winner of the content. The class murmured their approval.
Patty Wombart brightened and exclaimed, “Great!” Then the smile disappeared and she asked, “How many of you would like to compete?” Only Demetrius and Eric raised their hands. She knew it was too good to be true.
“How about a traditional Christmas pageant? Y’know, Mary, Joseph, wise men?” A small Asian boy named Lee Park had made the suggestion. “I mean, a lot of the kids here are probably in one at their church, have the costumes, know the lines.”
“Good idea, Jackie Chan!” Demetrius snapped his fingers like it was a done deal. A chubby Hispanic girl chimed in, “I was Mary last year!” A fat kid with freckles weighed in, “I was an ox!”
“No, no, no!” Ms. Wombart was not going to present this idea to the other teachers. A religious Winter Program was out of the question. “We can’t have a religious program at a public school!”
“Can we sing Christmas Carols?” A shy black girl with a lisp suggested.
“Too many songs with, you know, the J-word.” Ms. Wombart knew the rules.
“What’s the J-word?” asked another girl.
“JESUS!” half the class shouted. Their teacher’s eyes bugged out and her students laughed. “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”
“Make them stop!” She pleaded with Demetrius, and he was happy to oblige her. He got the class to settle down. She owed him one.
As the bell rang, and the kids started heading to their first class, Ms. Wombart told them this discussion would continue the next day. She begged them to come up with something else. At the very least, she could blame them for the result.
Would the class come up with an idea for the Winter Program? How bad could it be? Stay tuned!
Part 2
Demetrius made sure he was first on the bus at the end of the day. Every kid that came on afterward gave him a fist bump as he or she went by. If they gave no bump, they got a thump, just a jab at the shoulder that only hurt a little. It was an act of dominance, a tax for ignoring him.
Renatta was one of the last to get on. She was the Hispanic girl who said she played Mary in the Christmas pageant. She barely made contact with his fist as she went by. She seemed unhappy about something. He would get off at her stop and find out what the trouble was. He cared about his little flock.
It was a long ride home, making many stops along a circuitous route that hit all the low income projects. Every kid who did not get picked up by a parent had to ride the bus. That was every kid with two working parents, or a mom who didn’t get off work til 5. Demetrius and Renatta were neighbors in more ways than one. She lived with her mother and two older sisters. He lived with his grandma. Both of their fathers were out of the picture. And they both got off at her stop.
“Slow down, home girl!” Renatta stopped and turned around. “What do you want?” she snapped back. Her eyes looked red, as if she had been crying.
“I thought you looked sad. I just want to know how you’re doing.”
“Thanks,” said Renatta, letting out a sigh. “I’m just feeling disappointed. I kinda hoped we’d do a Christmas pageant so I could play Mary.”
“Well, you can still be Mary at your church,” said Demetrius, trying to lighten her mood. It didn’t work.
“They won’t let me.” She let out a long breath and said, “They wanted someone prettier this year. Some of the parents said I was too fat to be Mary.”
“That’s really mean!”
“I thought I was perfect for it,” Renatta suddenly grinned. “I mean, I looked like a pregnant girl. I was just one throw pillow away from giving birth!”
Demetrius couldn’t help but laugh, and she joined in. And he wanted to help her somehow. He wanted to be her fixer, make a way for her to play the role for which she was born. His church already had a Mary. And she was fatter than Renatta.
“You are going to be Mary this Christmas,” he declared while pointing right at her, speaking like an Old Testament prophet.
“How? You don’t even go to my church!”
“No, but we do go to the same school. And we’re gonna have that pageant.”
“But they say it’s against the rules! It’s not possible!”
“I didnt say we were gonna follow the rules. We’re gonna do it my way!”
Renatta giggled with delight. It was the best feeling she’d had since she got the boot from the pageant. Even if Demetrius failed, it was nice to have someone sticking up for her, taking her side. “So what do I have to do?”
“Come to school tomorrow in costume. You still got it?”
“A sheet, towel, and a throw pillow? Yeah, I got it!”
“I’ll have mine, too! We’ll talk on the bus tomorrow. I’ll think of how were gonna do this tonight!”
“You mean you don’t already know?” This kid was crazy! But this was fun!”
“I do my best work after I’m already in trouble!”
What does Demetrius have in mind? Where can they perform? Stay tuned!
Part 3
Demetrius walked into the house and called out to his grandma. “Yo! Grandma! Where’s that royal robe I wore in the Christmas pageant last year?”
Belinda Robinson, a recently retired public utility employee and the default keeper of this boy, lowered her True Crime magazine and looked at her grandson. “Why? You’re not in the pageant this year. I had to bribe you to do it last year.”
“Well, it’s for school!” Then Demetrius held his breath, knowing that his grandma was going to interrogate him thoroughly.
“The school doesn’t do Christmas pageants. Why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not lyin’, grandma,” Demetrius began. For it not to be a lie, he was going to need a reason. And he was still trying to work that out. Was he just messing with his teacher? Was he leading a rebellion? Was it a First Amendment crusade?
“Then explain yourself.” The magazine went down and the arms folded against her bosom. “What are you up to?”
“Our teacher got stuck with doing the winter program, and she doesn’t know what to do, so she asked the class.” The truth rolled out so easily, Demetrius decided to go with it. “Some kids said they wanted to do the pageant since they are already in one at their church.”
Grandma snorted. “Weak leadership! That’s what’s wrong with this country! People sticking their fingers in the air to find out which way the wind is blowing instead of standing on the solid rock of doing what’s right!” Then she squinted at her grandson. “So, what’s right about this? Is this about a girl?”
“Sort of.”
“I knew it!” Case closed! Belinda Robinson had a very high solve rate.
“It’s not like that, grandma. You know Renatta?”
“That little butterball on the next block? Her?” Her presumed motive started to crumble.
“Her church replaced her in their pageant. They got a Mary that was better looking. So when one of the boys at school said we could already do the pageant, she got her hopes up. Some other kids thought it was a good idea, but Miss Wombart didn’t want our ideas anymore. So I thought we could just do it anyway!”
“How noble of you. Sounds like you’ll just get in trouble.” She was used to being disappointed with Demetrius.
“But this is righteous trouble!” Suddenly, he had a cause! “And what can they do if we just start showing up at school dressed up as shepherds, kings, and angels? It’s not like our school has a dress code!” He struck a pose in his cornrows, dirty t-shirt, and drooping pants.
What a picture that created in her mind. She had been involved in acts of civil disobedience in her youth, but none of them were this amusing. She tried not to laugh out loud, but now she thought this sounded like fun. She smiled at her grandson and said, “You have a point. Let’s see what we got!”
The next morning, Demetrius caught the bus at the first stop. He was wearing a long coat with a spotted fur collar. He carried a broomstick, spray painted gold and topped with his grandma’s old crown air freshener. His head topped with a ring of gold garland from the Christmas tree, he was now ready to be a royal pain. Ms. Wombart would be impressed. At the next stop, a plump virgin Mary got on and squealed when she was greeted by her king. “You look amazing!” And he did.
As the bus filled up, each kid stared at Demetrius and fist bumped him with approval. “You the king of the bus, now?”
“Yes, my son.” Demetrius was a benevolent monarch.
On the way to school, he collected more cast members. He told them there was going to be a pageant at the school. Normally, this wouldnt get anyone excited. But it was the idea of breaking the rules that middle schoolers find intoxicating. And they wanted in!
Once they got to school, and the bus oened its door, Demetrius led the way, with the virgin Mary and the rest of the passengers following him silently, single file. They marched past the cars that were disgorging their unruly offspring, who suddenly stopped and stared. Then they joined in.
“Door man!” Demetrius called out, and one of the boys ran ahead to get the door. He saluted as he held it open, as Demetrius had assigned him on the way to school.
When he passed by the principal’s office with his growing entourage, the secretary stared out at them wide-eyed. Then she hit the intercom button. “We have a planned disturbance in the main hall!”
Demetrius reached the school’s main intersection and turned right, heading for the cafeteria. The rest followed, like ducklings. It was anything but a disturbance, but it was disturbing. The school’s police resource officer dropped his crossword puzzle and came to see what was going on. The teachers all stuck their heads out of their classrooms, like prairie dogs. Patty Wombart immediately knew she was in trouble. Demetrius was one of her students, and she would have to answer for this.
“Door man!” Demetrius deployed another enthusiastic participant, who opened the cafeteria door. The kids kept marching, but this ad hoc army was beginning to lose its unit cohesion as the late arrivals began to ask what was going on.
The king led the procession in a snake line around all the tables until everyone could have a seat. They sat as he reached out his royal scepter and slowly lowered it.
“My people!” Demetrius called out, and the kids all laughed for almost a minute. The principle and his staff of teachers, custodians, and various enforcers stood in the back and watched. Mr. Trolio, the principal, wanted to hear what this was about. It was probably harmless, and he knew the kids would probably get bored with it in a day or two if the grownups kept their cool and ignored it.
When the kids settled down just enough for him to continue, Demetrius began again. “The school does not have a plan for their winter program. They have asked us for an idea. We, the people, offered to have a Christmas pageant, with angels, shepherds, kings and the whole baby Jesus clan! But that is not allowed. So there will be no Christmas pageant…” The grownups sighed a collective sigh of relief. “But! We are gonna pageant! Come as your favorite character tomorrow! We will pageant this year!”
Demetrius held out his hands and his friends from the bus started chanting, “Pageant! Pageant! Pageant!” And it caught on. It spread throughout the room and when they started to turn and get the staff reaction, it got louder. The adults were not happy.
Demetrius looked up at the clock on the wall. He had to get the kids out of there and into their homerooms in about eight minutes. He had not actually broken any rules. It had not reached the level of civil disobedience.
The principal kept his troops from panicking by maintaining his cool demeaner. But he looked around until he saw Patty Wombart and they locked eyes. She knew she was in trouble. How could Demetrius do this to her? Will he be able make this happen? Is pageant even a verb?
Stay tuned!
Part 4
Eric Weisman didn’t take the bus. And he didnt have to wait around for a parent to get off work to pick him up. His mother was at the curb in a China Blue Mercedes S-Class sedan as soon as he left the building.
“Anything exciting happen in school today?” She asked the same question every day.
“Nope.” And it got the same answer. Now, Eric wasn’t exactly lying to his mother. It’s just that what happened in school today did not excite HIM. He had been overshadowed by Demetrius Robinson today. Eric wasn’t upset about it. He actually admired this epic piece of theater that his rival had pulled off. There was no way he could top it. But could he be a part of it?
Last year, the Methodist church was struggling to field a cast for their annual Christmas pageant. It was an aging congregation, with few children and fewer teens. Eric’s dad was an attorney whose business was mostly handling wills, trusts, and land use. His clients were respectable people, not criminals. And a lot of them were Methodists. He got wind of their problem and offered the services of his three boys. They had to be credited as “The Three Weismen,” and Mr. Weisman had to get an ad in the program. Win-win. The grateful Methodists were only too happy to oblige.
Eric wanted to get his dad’s approval. It’s one thing to celebrate Christmas in a walk on performance for hire. It’s another to do it in the service of breaking down the wall between church and state. Of course, Eric didn’t see it that way. He was just having fun. But he knew his dad was sensitive to this kind of thing. He was a loud opponent of public prayer at football games.
After dinner, Mr. Weisman settled into his recliner while Mrs. Weisman went to to pick up Eric’s older brother, Gerald, from football practice. Bernard, the youngest, was hooked up to his Playstation, killing mythical beasts. This gave Eric the perfect opportunity to get his dad alone.
“Dad, I’ve got some exciting news!” Dad muted CNN and looked at his middle son intently.
“If this is so exciting, why am I just hearing about this now? Why not over dinner? Are you hiding something from your mother? You got a crush on some Catholic girl?”
“Oh, no,” Eric dismissed the idea. Although he would have to admit that there’s something about a girl in uniform. “It’s just that I have a chance to be a Weisman again this year.”
“That’s not gonna work. Your brother has too many commitments to football practice.”
“No, it’s just gonna be me!”
“Just you? What do the Methodists have against Bernie?”
“No, Dad, its not the Methodists! I’ll be a Weisman at school!”
Mr. Weisman’s jaw fell. “Theyre going to have a Christmas pageant? At our public school? No way!”
“That’s right! There will be no pageant sponsored by the school! Its a protest!” Eric spread his arms in victory. If it was a protest, his dad would be for it for sure!
“Are you nuts!? You’re just being a shill for some religious group! You’re a dupe!” Mr. Weisman was turning red. Eric dug in.
“No I’m not! This is student led! I am the duper!” Fist raised in the air, Eric had no idea how ridiculous he sounded. It wasn’t lost on Mr. Weisman, who snorted at his son, the duper.
Mr. Weisman sighed and tilted his head back to think about what was happening here. Eric’s Bar Mitzvah was in January, and he’d been studying diligently. He knew his son would be a good Jew. Maybe this was just the classic middle child thing, and the boy was wanting attention. Or maybe this was just his last fling with being foolish before becoming a man.
“I don’t know, Eric. I doesn’t look good.”
“You didn’t care what it looked like last year, when it got you a free ad.” Eric kept his fist raised, hoping his resolute attitude would get him the win.
“That really hurt, Eric.” The fist stayed up. Mr. Weisman rolled his eyes and asked, “So what do you want from me?”
Eric finally let his arm drop. “I just want your blessing.”
“OK, but there are strings attached. Until your Bar Mitzvah in January, you are still a child, and I’m responsible for your sins, so I want a daily update of what’s happening.”
“You’re my lawyer?” Eric was delighted.
“No! This is student led! I’m just a nosy parent.”
“Deal! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some duping to do!”
Mr. Weisman unmuted his television and sought refuge in bad economic news.
Would Demetrius welcome Eric’s help? Could this pageant go rogue? Stay tuned!
Part 5
The next day, the kids were singing “Come All Ye Faithful” on the bus as it pulled into the school parking lot. The passengers now included eight shepherds and five angels. Demetrius had been a busy king. And now, as he stood in the footwell, waiting for the door to open, he saw the cars in the drop zone, releasing angels, shepherds, and a donkey. There was also another boy in a robe and a gold chain, holding a clipboard, and checking off these new pageant participants. It was Eric Weisman.
Demetrius marched toward Eric with his army behind him. Eric looked up and smiled. “Season’s greetings, your majesty! Can we call you king Demetrius, or do those kings already have names?”
“I think they do, but I don’t know what they are,” said the boy king. “What are you up to, Jew-be-do? You don’t celebrate Christmas, do you?” Eric did not even blink at the slur. Demetrius used them as terms of endearment, sort of.
“I probably have. I was a wise man in the Methodists’ pageant last year. My mom took me to see Santa once. We put lights on the house. Christmas is pretty hard to avoid. The music is everywhere!” Then Eric looked puzzled. “Except in school. I don’t know what that’s all about. Any way, I thought I could help.” He held up the clipboard. It had a list of names and what characters each kid was playing.
“Good job! We need to do lunch! You may eat at the king’s table today.” Demetrius really did appreciate Eric’s organizational skills. But he didn’t want to just let him take charge.
There was no assembly of the cast and curious onlookers in the cafeteria that day. The kids who came in costume mingled together in small groups, according to their roles, comparing the different wardrobe details. Then they went to their homerooms.
Patty Wombart was not happy to see that her class already had at least ten pageant players. They were a sign that she had failed to have a plan. Now her students had one, and she had no control over it.
“Ms. Wombart, my family is Hindu. Can I be in the pageant?” Jahnavi, a shy girl who kept to herself, suddenly looked like she wanted to be included.
“Honey, I don’t…”
“Yes you can!” Demetrius announced triumphantly. “Diversity is our strength!”
“We could use another cow!” Eric chimed in. “Don’t your people dress up cows with fancy robes and gold chains?”
“I have another horn hat you could use!” The boy who was an ox offered some help. Then he explained, “My whole family are Vikings fans.” Some kids applauded and Jahnavi was happy to accept the offer.
Who’s gonna be the king that kills the babies?” another kid blurted out. The whole class gasped and expressed outrage. “Nobody’s gonna kill the babies! Who wants to kill the babies!? Demetrius! Are you gonna kill the babies!?”
“No! That’s another king!” Demetrius threw up his hands. Suddenly, the class turned on Eric!
“Don’t look at me! I’m a wise man!” Eric felt like he might be in danger. But Ms. Wombart saved the day.
“Class! Settle down! I can explain it!” She took a breath and drew on the Nativity lore of her youth. “King Herod is the bad guy! When the wise men came looking for the baby Jesus, and they said they were looking for the newborn king, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be king any more. So he told the wise men to report back when they found the baby so he could send his soldiers to kill him. But the baby and his parents got away!” She sighed in relief, but too soon.
“So when the baby gets away,” says the boy who was the herald of doom, “the king kills all the babies in the land to make sure!!” The girls started screaming.
“Quiet!!” Demetrius yelled at the top of his lungs from the top of his desk. “No babies die during the pageant! The pageant is about Jesus!”
Just then, Ms. Wombart caught a glimlse of Mr. Trolio in the doorway. “Faculty lounge. End of the day.” His tone was ominous.
All the teachers were having similar experiences. The kids had questions about the Christmas story. Those who were not in churches didn’t want to be left out. More Bible characters were expected in the days to come.
Mr. Trolio thought that there had to be a cabal of evangelical parents coordinating this assault on the secular sanctuary. Calls got made, and denials followed. Many parents did not even know what was going on at the school. Finally, he had to call Marvin Weisman. Eric’s participation was a surprise. Could this be the work of a social justice crusader like Weisman?
Mr. Weisman had just walked in his front door when his cell phone started vibrating. He took it out, looked at it, and saw it was from the school. He hadn’t even had a chance to talk to Eric yet. What could have gone wrong?
“Weisman…yes, yes, Mr. Trolio. What’s up?” He braced himself. Apparently there was an outbreak of Bible discussion in the classroom, and the teachers got cornered into answering questions that were not in the curriculum.
“So? I’m sure your staff is trained to handle this…no, Eric told me about it, and there’s nothing religious about his participation…I mean, if he came dressed as Abe Lincoln, you wouldn’t be calling me. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph are also historical figures.”
Mr. Trolio was getting exasperated. Couldn’t this man see that the sacred wall of separation between church and state was being breeched? And his son was at the top of the wall! “This demonstration that Eric is part of is absolutely religious! The virgin birth is religious, not historical! There is a virgin Mary in this gang of religious hooligans!”
“Are you sure she’s a virgin? Have you checked?”
“MARVIN!!” Mrs. Weisman had just come around the corner and heard what she could scarcely believe.
“Please!” He shooed her away. “Attorney-client privilege!” When she turned and rushed away, Eric was standing there with a huge smile on his face. He had a lawyer! Then he turned and ran to his room to scrape up a few bucks for his Dad’s retainer.
“Trolio! Calm down and take a breath! Listen to me. A bunch of kids walking around in period costumes does not constitute a Nativity scene. Tell your teachers to keep to their curriculum and stay away from religion. Yes. What would constitute a Nativity scene?” He thought about it and it came to him. “A manger! A manger scene crosses the line! Be on the lookout for a manger! And…yes…I’ll talk to Eric. There will be no manger! He will see to it!”
Will Eric become a mole for the school authorities? Are the kids just one wooden box away from a Constitutional crisis? Stay tuned!
Part 6
Demetrius and Eric had a productive lunch. The cast was swelling up to the point where they were going to have to make sure they didn’t have too many shepherds. “We can have all the angels we want, cuz they do most of the singing,” Demetrius explained.
“What about props? We’ll need a stable, right?” Eric thought he could help with any necessary purchases. He told Demetrius that he still had a bundle in his PayPal account from his last birthday. Since his Bar Mitzvah was coming up, he’d get quite a haul, so he wouldn’t miss it.
“What’s a Bar Mitzvah?” Demetrius was intrigued and wondered how to get in on this.
“It’s a big deal in Judaism. It’s a celebration of becoming a man. I will be a full member of the Jewish community. I can lead prayers. There’s a lot of study involved, including learning prayers in Hebrew. And I have to give a speech.”
Demetrius was impressed. Could you really be a man at thirteen? He was thirteen already, and he still didn’t have a bike. Demetrius tried to get back on the subject.
“We might not need a stable, depending on where we set this up. The school has a softball field with covered dugouts. One of those could be the stable. The angels could sing in the batting cage.”
“That’s very opportunistic and resourceful!” Eric was also impressed. “How about a backup venue? In case word gets out?”
“Good point.” Eric was proving to be a very detail oriented partner in crime.
“By the way, where do I find this story, so I can figure out how to stage it?” Eric was kind of familiar, but he wanted original source material.
After they wrapped up their meeting and lunch was over, they headed back to class. The rest of the day was uneventful and even orderly. News of King Herod and the infant genocide put a lot of kids in a solemn mood.
When Demetrius got home, his grandma was not tucked into her recliner with a book about serial killers. Instead, she had an apron on and the house smelled like chocolate chip cookies. This was unusual.
“Grandma? Didn’t you get a call from the school today?” Demetrius expected to be in at least a little bit of trouble.
“Oh I sure did,” she said, with a sly smile. “They wanted to know if I put you up to this!” She chuckled about this and said, “I told them this was your idea, and said I told you that you might get in trouble. And they didn’t believe me! Ha! Congratulations, Demetrius. The school thinks you’re an adult!” And she held the plate of cookies under his nose. Demetrius stared at the cookies, thinking about what Eric told him.
“Grandma, Eric Weisman is having a Bar Mitzvah next month. He says that then he will be a man. Do we have anything like that? Is there something we do that says I am a man?”
“Demetrius, we don’t have a ceremony for that,” she sighed, as she breathed out all lightheartednes. She had raised his father alone, and she was not equipped then to guide a boy to manhood. “But, this thing you are doing, if it’s honorable and not a joke, this thing you are doing will do more to make you a man than a religious ceremony will.”
“Grandma, do men eat cookies?”
“Yes they do!” And they both laughed and went to work on the whole batch.
Meanwhile, Eric got home and breezed through his homework. Then he had important work to do. His school had a zero tolerance policy for cell phones in school, so his iPhone was on the charger all day. He opened the Amazon app and went shopping. He found what he was after and hit the buy now button. Then he made sure it got delivered to Demetrius. His parents would not approve, so Eric and Demetrius thought this was a good solution. Then Eric heard his father come home. He was ready to report to his dad about everything that happened today. But he wouldn’t tell him that he had just ordered a manger.
What will Eric tell his dad? Will dad stay on board, or will he forbid his son to participate? Stay tuned!
Part 7
Eric Weisman had a problem. His father told him to make sure there was no manger, and he’d just ordered one from Amazon.
“What’s the big deal about a manger? I don’t know anyone that even has one!” This was technically true, at least for a few days.
“The school cannot even have a whiff of approval of a religious ceremony or demonstration on state-owned property. The separation of church and state is a sacred thing!”
“Sacred?” Eric looked and felt amused at this choice of words.
“I mean it’s an inviolable principle, wise guy! You know what I mean!” Mr. Weisman asked, “Whose side are you on, Eric?”
“On the side of those truths that are self-evident! Equal rights!” Eric held his breath, aware that he had just stepped into his father’s arena.
“Eric, this has nothing to do with equal rights.”
“I don’t know, counselor! I feel the heavy finger of the state on the scales of justice!”
“Eric, do you not hear yourself? You have a Bar Mitzvah coming up!”
“I am not making a religious argument. This is about viewpoint discrimination. Isn’t it?”
Marvin Weisman was getting worn out with this whole Christmas pageant business. He dealt mostly with irrevocable trusts and zoning variances. He just wanted to wash his hands of this whole matter. He slid Eric’s five dollar bill back across the table. He could not accept his son’s retainer.
“You touched it, you took it!’ Eric raised his hands up to show he would not pick it up. Then he turned and left the room.
The next day, the kids came to school in costume and full of questions. Many of them did not go to church or know anything about the nativity. Others came from churches that had manger scenes set up every Christmas season, but no one bothered to explain it. Others were puzzled about the Christmas tree, and where that fit in.
“What is frankincense?” asked a skinny white kid with glasses named Robert.
“It’s a kind of incense, and its very rare and valuable,” said Renatta, as the Virgin Mary. Then she pulled out a small vial. “My mom had some of this. It’s an essential oil made from frankincense.” The kids gasped and crowded around her, staring at the vial. “Let me put some on you.”
Renatta asked them to present their wrists and she would anoint each of them one by one. Demetrius stood next to her as the preteen pageant cast filed by reverently. When the class beauty stopped and got a dab on her wrist, Demetrius quickly took her hand and smelled it. Then he looked her in the eye and said, “You smell amazing.” “Oh stop it!” She quickly withdrew, blushing deeply, failing to suppress a smile.
When they all returned to their seats, that sat quietly, inhaling the aroma rising from their skin, thinking about this gift for a king. That’s when Renatta started singing “Silent Night.” One by one they all closed their eyes and let themselves be transported to a stable in Bethlehem. When the girl stopped singing, she opened her eyes and saw that Ms. Wombart stood before her with her wrist displayed. Renatta rubbed her teacher’s wrist, and Patti Wombart whispered, “Sing it again.”
Renatta only knew one verse, so she sang it again with her eyes closed. When she finished, there was a few seconds of silence, and then she heard someone sniffling. Renatta looked up. It wasn’t Ms. Wombart. She had turned her head to look at what the other kids were looking at. The only student who did not dress out as a shepherd, angel, king or anything else was biting his lip and had tears in his eyes. He looked up, aware that he had been seen and heard, and said, “We don’t do Christmas at my house.”
“Why not?” asked an angel.
“We don’t believe in anything.” In that moment, he was the embodiment of sadness. Several boys and girls got up and came over to give him a hug. His name was Peter Harper, and he had come here as a transfer a month ago. He was a kid with a lot of anger issues and he had to leave his last school for unspecified reasons.
Renatta made her way over to him, opened the vial and rubbed the fragrant oil on his wrist. “You’re one of us, now.” Then she smiled brightly, having an idea. “Would you like to be Joseph?”
Peter looked confused, not really knowing the story. Demetrius laughed and said, “You gotta marry her now! She put her scent on you!” All the kids agreed, and Peter shrugged and accepted her proposal.
At day’s end, as Patti Wombart was getting ready to dismiss her uncommonly serene homeroom class, another teacher came to talk to her. Leticia Monroe was the health teacher, and she also noticed how quiet and ordely they were. “They sure were good today! And what’s that smell?”
“Frankincense.”
“Girl! You gonna be in so much trouble!”
“Yes,” said the younger woman as she smelled the oil on her wrist, “I probably will.”
When Eric’s mom came to the pick up line, he was watching Demetrius, the boy king, marching toward the yellow school bus with his subjects. They were singing “Hark! The Herald Angel Sings.” He wished he could go with them. That experience with the frankincense and the singing girl, who really did have a good voice, had definitely elevated his day. He felt so much peace in the classroom, feeling like Peter Harper: “You are one of us, now.” But he wasn’t. He sniffed the scent on his wrist and sighed.
“Anything exciting happen in school today?”
“The Virgin Mary showed up, gave us all a hit of frankincense and sang Silent Night.”
Mrs. Weisman thought that was a hoot. “You have a much better sense of humor than your father!”
The truth of that made Eric shudder. And it made him mad. Why was this a big deal? The kids didn’t care. The only reason the teachers cared was because some other adult determined that it was wrong. No one was being hurt. And it was actually interesting. Ms. Wombart asked what they wanted to do, and they told her. And now it was a problem. Eric was glad he got the manger now. And he wanted his five dollars back.
Will Eric fire his dad? Will Patti Wombart lose her job? Stay tuned!
Part 8
Mr. Trolio had convened a meeting of faculty and staff after school. Things were getting out of hand. Ms. Wombart’s class, the epicenter of the subversive activities, had incense and singing. This was definitely religious in nature, was held during class time, on the taxpayer’s dime. Heads were gonna roll when this was over.
Mr. McHenry, the school resource officer, was asked what he could do the keep a pageant from breaking out.
“Actually, I’ve never heard of such a thing happening. When I was still on the force, there was no pageant prevention team.”
“No,” said Trolio crossly, “but this is illegal activity. There must be a law enforcement solution to this problem.”
“Actually, no. There have been just enough cases where it was decided to be legal that it’s been difficult to legislate. It’s been left to the schools to have policies consistent with the rulings, and even your policies aren’t clear. For instance, in Lynch v Donnelly in 1984, it was ruled that a manger scene was protected if it was part of a display that included Santa, reindeer, menorahs, and other things that are part of a broader cultural display about the season. Do you have a policy that carefully defines what makes it religious?”
“A manger and a pregnant virgin makes it religious!” Trolio exclaimed.
“Do you have that in writing? And were the parties planning the pageant informed in advance?” McHenry could tell that he didn’t.
Trolio spun his chair suddenly in Patti Wombart’s direction? “Well, did you?”
“Yes, but not in writing,” she sputtered. “You told them, in the cafeteria! Doesn’t that count?”
“I was there,” McHenry interjected. “I’m not sure they were notified in a timely manner. Some were already in costume.”
“A timely manner!? They’re kids!” Trolio was losing it. “Whatever happened to in loco parentis? We are in the place of their parents! Do parents have to give warnings in a timely manner!?”
“Actually, that is part of good parenting,” the school psychologist meekly asserted. “It’s important to teach your chil…”
“I DON’T CARE!” Trolio yelled at her. “Doesn’t anyone have an actual solution!?”
“Well,” McHenry took a breath and paused, trying to calm the man down. “Have you tried calling the parents? Get them on your side?”
“Of course! They say they don’t know anything about it. Some asked when it was scheduled and if it was a ticketed event!”
“Let’s just let em do it!” Ms. Monroe, the health teacher interrupted. “Me and Patti will dress up as elves. Mr. Trolio can be Santa, and, boom! It’s cultural! Then we can move on!”
“I would like to amend the motion to change Santa to the Grinch,” said McHenry.
“We aren’t voting on anything! I am not playing Santa or the Grinch! There will be no elves! McHenry, I want you on call to show up with lights and siren, a bullhorn, and a lot of threats of arrest if a crowd forms around a manger on school grounds!”
“But I can’t arrest them!”
“They don’t know that! Do what cops do! Bluff! Bluster! Be scary!”
Mr. McHenry didn’t want to lose this gig. After his retirement this became available, and it paid a lot of money. Until today, it had been light duty. He was getting paid to do crossword puzzles, for crying out loud. So, he shrugged and agreed.
After Demetrius got home he asked his grandma, “Did I get a package today?”
“No, not yet. So how was school?”
“I’m not sure, but I think Ms. Wombart got the Holy Ghost today.” Then he told her the whole story about the frankincense, Silent Night, and the boy who cried.
“Oh, my!” Belinda Robinson was happily stunned by this report. She couldnt remember the last time something like that happened in church. “I need to start volunteering at your school! I’m sorry I missed that!”
“Grandma, there’s something I don’t understand. Every year when we have the pageant, kids try to get out of it. They say it’s lame and stupid. But now kids from all the churches are excited about it! We even got an atheist, two Jews and a Hindu! How did this get to be cool?” Demetrius was genuinely confused.
“Maybe the Lord wants us to show the world that we love one another. Maybe it was lame because we keep this story to ourselves in our churches. He is using you to get people from every tongue, tribe and nation, like the Bible says.”
“Well, I guess we need to do this where everyone can see it! But we’ll probably have to do it outside, at night, after Mr. Trolio and the teachers are off the clock.”
This was going to take some adult intervention. Grandma decided she was going to call in some favors and get involved. She did not want to miss this oportunity to shine the light.
Part 9
The pageant was on. The kids really had the Christmas spirit. But they were going to have to maintain this over Thanksgiving. The pageant couldn’t be earlier than the week before Christmas, so they had a month to pull it all together. Belinda Robinson was sure she could get the adult assets in place that would make this a pageant to remember.
“Demetrius, do any of these kids play instruments?”
“Lee Park plays the violin, but he’s afraid to get involved because his mom doesn’t want him to get in trouble.”
“I think I’ve met her,” eyes rolling as she said it. Kim Park was a real tiger mom, driving her son relentlessly to be a high achiever. She was a type A woman with a Beta boy. “Poor kid. Is he a good violinist?’
“Oh, yeah! He played at school assembly once. He sounds like a pro!”
“I’ll have to talk to her.”
‘Why, Grandma?”
“You and the other kids have done a fine job, something you can be proud of. But you are going to need some folks who can do the heavy lifting to make the pageant happen. But first, I need you to come up with the actual program, what songs you want to sing. Talk to your angels about that. They need to be involved.”
“You wanna talk to them?”
“No! You kids are the ones who are making the difference! I just want to get you the support you need. If the adults muscle in, it won’t be yours anymore. I believe the Lord is using you. We had our chance. We need to stay out of the way.”
“Why would the Lord use me?” Demetrius did not think he was worthy.
“I have no idea. But He’s doing it anyway!”
“So, what do I do now?”
“Like I said, keep the kids involved, choose a few songs. Get really good at them. I’ll take care of the finding the place and the props.”
That weekend, the manger arrived. It was very nice, maybe a little too nice for first century Bethlehem. But with enough hay in it, no one could tell.
Renatta gave Peter Harper her phone number. She thought Mary and Joseph should get acquainted before checking in at an inn. He actually called! So she invited him and his family to church that Sunday. And the family that didn’t believe in anything came anyway.
Monday morning, Demetrius ditched the robes and scepter for his usual street clothes. He and Eric tried to get word out that they should save the costumes for a dress rehearsal, but there were still a few angels that either didn’t get the memo, or just liked being angels. The focus today was getting out music assignments so they could start to practice.
Eric brought an agenda to the cafeteria. He and Demetrius and some of the most opinionated singers ate at the same table and started working on the details of the pageant. The kids had a lot of song suggestions, so they decided to audition them. After a week they would decide on the keepers. That seemed fair to everyone.
Mr. Trolio was finishing lunch at his desk when he thought he heard singing. He got up and went out to the main hall. The kids were heading out of the cafeteria singing “The First Noel.” This was very disappointing. He thought maybe this pageant fever had broken. He went back to his office and the solice of paperwork.
An hour later he heard it again. He stepped out of his office just in time to hear, “the little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head.” He recognized the Christmas Carol, “Away in a Manger.” It wasn’t exactly in unison, but it was recognizable. As soon as the song was finished, the kids filed into their classrooms and the doors shut. He immediately went to his secretary to give her a recon assignment.
“Gina, drop one of these off at each classroom and come back with your observations.”
“This week’s cafeteria menu?”
“It’s just an excuse to get you in there. I want to know if this pageant is taking away from class time.”
Gina nodded and went on her way. When she returned, she went straight to his desk and gave him the news. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“They were all sitting quietly and being good. Teachers were teaching without being interrupted. There was no fighting, dancing, arguing, projectiles or crying. It was kinda creepy.”
Trolio let out a sigh. “It’s the quiet before the storm. It’s like waiting for the D-Day invasion.”
After a couple of days of audio bombardment, the kids were sounding better. They sounded like they were a single unit. Each class change brought a new song, and Demetrius thought it was going great. But then he was approached in the cafeteria by Ben, a chunky black kid with glasses. “We got a problem. It’s harmony.”
“Get her over here,” Demetrius commanded. “I’ll straighten her out!”
“Harmony isnt a person. Harmony is something we need. I sing in my uncle’s barber shop quartet, and we sing our songs in harmony. It sounds really professional! We could do that, too!”
“My church does an Easter cantata,” said a small red-haired girl named Megan who had been standing behind Ben. “The girls sing the soprano and alto parts. The guys sing the bass and baritone parts, and it sounds amazing.”
“So how do we do this?” This was uncharted water for Demetrius.
“We’ll take care of it. Megan and I have a couple other singers and well demo the songs at lunch tomorrow. Then we can start teaching the kids their parts in gym class.”
Megan chimed in. “The girls will practice their part in the locker room, and the boys will learn their part in their locker room. Then well start practicing by bringing it together in the halways between classes.”
“You will not be disappointed!” Ben was so confident that Eric and Demetrius got excited. It was great to see that this was not all on them. Until now, they had no idea how many kids really wanted to help, and had talent to bring to the table.
How good could this be? Was there anything else that could make it better? Stay tuned!
Catch up with previous episodes at
Manger Danger!
PART 10
After Thanksgiving, the only thing the faculty could be sure of was that the daily serenade of Christmas Carols was getting better. The harmonies were blending well, and the kids seemed to take pride in their work on the music. One day the angels and shepherds had a battle of the bands sort of competition in the cafeteria, and it got pretty loud. Then a boy brought his violin to accompany the singers, and that became a regular thing.
“I’m not seeing anything on social media,” said Mr. Trolio’s secretary. “They are either maintaining radio silence, or this is it. Maybe this is the pageant!”
“Gina, I think that’s wishful thinking. They are going to too much trouble for it to end here. This is an act of defiance. They are preparing for something big.”
“Maybe they’re going to take it on the road. There’s a bandshell in the park.”
“It’s booked solid between now and Christmas for non-religious concerts and such. I checked.”
“It’s kinda weird, isn’t it? That bandshell goes unused most of the year. Then at Christmas it fills up with things that are secular. Are they actually trying to squeeze the original meaning of Christmas out of it?”
The principal was taken aback by the question. It was a good one. He hadn’t thought of himself as an enemy of Christmas. He was just a school official trying to avoid controversy. He shrugged and said, “Maybe they are.”
By the last day of school before winter break, there had been no pageant, although every kid in the school was in costume that day. They all seemed to be celebrating their musical triumph. They sounded amazing. At the end of the day, the kids left, followed by the exodus of faculty and staff.
When Trolio got home, his wife was excited about their trip. The next morning they were flying out to the Virgin Islands for some well earned R&R. As he drove through his neighborhood he noticed that almost all the houses had Christmas lights except his. It was depressing. Add to that the fact that it hadn’t snowed this far south in years, and you couldn’t tell it was Christmas at his house at all.
After dinner, just as they were starting to pack, Trolio’s phone rang. The name on the screen said, McHenry. “Oh, God, no!” He forgot about the resource officer and the instructions he gave him. “Hello?”
“Sir! You better get down here!”
“What happened?”
“While I was home, I got a notification that the security lights were off at the school. So I went to see what went wrong. When I got here there was a crowd. So I did like you said: lights, siren, got out the bullhorn.”
“And…”
“This old black lady started yelling at me about their rights and told me to buzz off. Then she menaced me with a hair brush!”
“Did you call the police?”
“Almost. But then the media got here. I didn’t think it would look good.”
“I’m coming.” Trolio took a few deep breaths and apologized to his wife, but he had to run out to the school. It was an emergency.
As his car got within several blocks of the school, he saw the star. It was blazing in the distance. When he got there, he had to park in the street because the lot was full. There were cars already parked, facing the school, lighting it with their headlights. Some of the vehicles were those trucks used by contractors that had power inverters. Extension cords ran to speakers on the lawn. One ran all the way up the flagpole to the disco light ball that was the star. There were also three food trucks taking advantage of the hundreds of people who had parked in the street, and were filling the lot on foot.
The school custodian had to be in on this. He must have cut the lights so the star and headlights could be all the light needed for this production, which was about to get underway. All the headlights went out at once, except one car, stage right, that shone on the string quartet made up of the kid from the cafeteria and three young girls in their parochial school uniforms. They broke into “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”
As the music played sweetly, the car headlights at center stage went on, shining on Mary and Joseph. Belinda Robinson began reading the Christmas story from Luke, chaper two, holding a microphone instead of a hairbrush. As she read, Mary laid down, pretending to be in labor. Joseph suddenly pulled out a toy baby doll and held it up by the ankle. The narration paused so he could shout triumphantly, “It’s a boy!” The audience cheered loudly.
After the narrator finished her sentence about Mary wrapping Jesus in swaddling clothes, the quartet started “Away in a Manger.” The angels who were sitting behind them stood up in the light and started singing. The audience members who knew the words joined in.
Trolio saw Marvin Weisman standing by a food truck, shaking hands with people. He went straight to him and asked, “Did you do all this?”
“No! I just got here! My wife sent me a text saying to meet her here. When I got here, I decided to make the best of it. The cocoa is on me!” And he went back to shaking hands and introducing himself.
When the song ended, the lights went on at stage left, showing the army of shepherds with their sheep, played by kids wearing coats with fleece linings turned inside out. The narrator went on about the shepherds guarding their sheep and paused for the angel of the Lord to announce, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”
The rest of the angels behind the shepherds stood and started singing “Hark, the Herald Angel Sings” with gusto. The audience got into it, most of them knowing the words. That’s when Trolio saw the school board chairman coming toward him. He braced himself.
“This is amazing! Did you organize this?” The chairman was a short, balding man with glasses that magnified his wide eyed stare. He seemed happy!
“No. Not at all. This was a total surprise. It really was student led.”
“That’s good! But make sure you show approval to these people! The superintendent isnt running for reelection next year. If they see your name on the ballot, they might remember this!” Then he shook Trolio’s hand and went to get a free cocoa.
The reporter and camera man were not even looking at him. They were caught up in a pageant like nothing they’d ever seen. Mary giving birth live, a star of Bethlehem over a public school, a terrific string quartet, and some very high quality chorale arrangements. They were enchanted, and wanted to get it all. It was the news. He was not.
When the quartet finished the song, the lights on stage right went on, and the kings from the east slowly moved toward Bethlehem, as the narrator told about them and the gifts they brought. Then, Demetrius, Eric, and a boy king named Robert sang, “We Three Kings.” All the angels joined in on the chorus.
“O Star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to thy Perfect Light”
When they finished singing, the narrator continued telling how king Herod tried to get them to report back on where to find the newborn king. Then the kings presented their gifts, and all the angels, shepherds, and the whole cast burst into “Joy to the World.” The crowd joined in with enthusiasm. Everyone was really into it, and applauded when it was done.
Before the quartet started in with “Silent Night,” Belinda Robinson announced,”Some of the angels will now come forward to share one of the gifts that was brought to the baby Jesus. Let the angels anoint your wrist with frankincense, and then let others get some.”
It was a surprisingly orderly line, helped by the tranquil tones from the quartet, and the fact that nobody wanted to spill their cocoa. The crowd sang along quietly as they received and inhaled their pleasant gift. An elbow nudged Mr. Trolio. It was Patti Wombart.
“Are you gonna get in line?”
“I don’t think I should. I’m practically King Herod.”
“No you’re not. Tonight your just an ordinary sinner, like the rest of us. Let’s go.”
So Mr. Trolio gave up and went forward to share the communal blessing as the quartet continued with the long version of “Silent Night,” with the angels singing the lesser known verses. After getting a dab on the wrist he smelled it and looked up to see Demetrius grinning at him triumphantly from the choir. He looked back, smiled and saluted him.
Eric slapped Demetrius on the back. “Congratulations! This is a big deal!”
“Yeah, I guess. But a lot of people made this amazing. It wouldn’t be any way this cool if Ms. Wombart didn’t have that disco ball we could use.”
“Demetrius, you got this started and you followed through to the end. You were just a show-off before. Now you are a serious person!” Then Eric became serious. “Tonight, you became a man.”
Demetrius looked back at him and didn’t know what to say. Then he looked out on the crowd. They were all smiles, serenely inhaling the divine gift and greeting people they did not know. Some wiped away tears. His grandma was right. The Lord was using him. And Eric was right, too. Now he was a man. It was time to start putting away childish things. He would be starting high school next year. And he smiled as he thought that Easter was just a few months away.
The End