Once upon a time, there lived a grand King in a great Castle.
The Castle looked magical, and it probably was, since most people in the valley could not see it very often. It was perched upon the top of a high, steep hill which was difficult to climb and not very convenient. It was so high that it was, more often than not, above the clouds: and the people of the valley had grown so accustomed to the overcast sky that they no longer gave much thought to the Castle, much less the King living there.
Occasionally, on a clear day, the Castle seemed to glow in the blue sky at the top of the hill. Most of the time, this bright image was dismissed as a mirage by the people in the valley.
But once in a while, over the years, some few hardy people would climb the hill. Some of them never returned. Others came back down the hill and into the valley. They tried to describe the Castle and the King. Their descriptions were strange, and were completely beyond the everyday experience of the valley people. They spoke of brightness and seeing the stars clearly, and even the Sun seemed to shine there more cleanly. They tried to describe the trees that whispered songs in the evening wind. They said that the water from the well was cool, and seemed like a cold wine that warmed the heart and refreshed the soul.
The hardest thing that they tried to describe was the King’s voice, his face and his smile. When pressed by the valley people, they tried to sing the song sung by the King on his throne. They could manage a few phrases, but the melody escaped them, like trying to remember music from a dream.
When they tried to speak of the laughter of the King, they could only smile weakly, under tears of warm remembrance.
These people became strange, and were often dismissed by the practical, common-sensical valley people as being just fanciful, given to nonsense and too much imagination.
The people who stayed with the King were generally forgotten in the valley.
The business of the valley was very important to the people of the valley. Something would be very important for a few days or weeks and everyone would be talking about it on their phones and texts. But the next month, these things were forgotten about in favor of other things.
This was just the way things were. The people of the valley had gotten themselves used to this business by practicing some helpful sayings, like “whatever” or “it is what it is” or “that’s the way I am, get used to it.”
But the King, who always took seriously each and every word, could never accept getting “used to it,” and he was quite opposed to the business of the valley. “It is what it is” was definitely not true, and he knew it. “Whatever” was a lie, but only those who knew the truth could understand this. And the most realistic people of the valley were those who had climbed the hill and had been in his Castle.
The King knew that the valley was set below sea level, and a thousand-year event was on the horizon. The business of the valley would soon be interrupted by natural, cataclysmic disaster. The Sea would soon find its way into the valley, and everything that the valley people thought was important and practical would end up submerged, drowned by the tides of time.
So the King decided to call the people away from the business of the valley. He decided to invite the valley people up to his Castle to a great feast, because he knew that the people needed a reason that they could understand for climbing the great Hill.
The Hill that would save them from the flood.
The Feast would be free of charge. It would be sumptuous and grand. Its menu would be of the highest, richest fare. The music and the celebration would be joyous, and would set hearts high above the sounds of the torrential floods below. The Sun would shine above the clouds. The Trees would sing in the breeze.
And he, the King, would welcome each one with open arms, and he would smile, sing and laugh.
Things would be as they should be.
And it would be right, not merely “whatever,” not just “it is what it is.”
It would be, actually, Peace on Earth.
So the King sent down his representatives, the hardy souls that had climbed up to his Castle and had stayed on. He told them to go down in bright clothing, with musical instruments and to sing with gladness and tell the people of the valley that everything will be all right, that they should come and join the King for a merry feast and stay with him as long as they wanted, and their hearts would be glad.
They walked down the hill and sang into the houses of the valley people. They invited every family and home to climb the hill and enter the Castle of the King for the feast of feasts.
But the business of the valley was busy being important. One family said, “No, we cannot come, for we have things to do. We have concerts to attend and holiday parties to show up to. There are games that must be played and paid for, and holiday shopping is so very busy, we must do our part for the economy. Surely you see that.”
Another family said, “No, we cannot come, for we prefer other more pleasant people to spend our time with. We found a better castle, one that is more comfortable and does not require any hill-climbing. It is where our friends are already going and they play better music there. There are lots of people there and we feel like we’re part of something big. Besides, we would much prefer McDonalds and Applebee’s to the mythical fare of an unknown king. He would probably bore us with his old-fashioned songs that have no guitars, no drums, no exciting lights. Advertise on TV. Get a website. Do some social media. And then we might come, you’ll see.”
Another family said, “No, we cannot come, for we cannot stand hearing about negative things like floods. These have all been dammed up and controlled by our superior technology, so we do not need to worry, you see. The castle is just an old illusion, and the king is only a thing of mythology and coloring books. We would rather be realistic and stick to what we know. Besides, we would rather hear about raising our self-esteem and improving ourselves. Put good feelings on the program, and then we’ll see.”
The representatives, with heavy heart, reported these things to their master.
“No, they do not see,” said the King. “Who has blinded their eyes that they cannot see?” he asked, piteously. “Who has deafened their ears that they cannot hear? Who has deadened their hearts that they cannot turn and come back to me?”
The King, angered and saddened, sent his representatives back down the hill. This time they were to wear black clothes and chant the lays of requiem. They were to go to the places of the marginalized, the lower classes, the irreligious, the halt and the lame, the ones who had never received any invitation, much less a ticket to a Feast at the Castle Royale.
They staggered in slowly, the halt and the lame in the snow, for poverty and circumstances had weighed them down and had handicapped their way. The King sent servants down to help them, to strengthen the weary knees, to lift up the fainthearted as if on the wings of an eagle, to make their way straight.
For no one, the King had decided, would ever fail to make it to the Castle if he had set one step upon the hillside of ascent.
“I will lose no one,” the King did say, at the inauguration of the parade of the weak and the poor and the oppressed to his Feast of Feasts.
They all came, and still there were places, empty and waiting. “There are not enough for the Feast to play,” the King did say to his servants. “Go now into the highways and the byways, the brambles and the hedges, and compel them to come in that my house shall be filled.”
And so they left on their last mission, where they are busy today. Compelling, with gentle persuasion, in beauty and in peace. Compelling, those lost in the highways and byways. Calling, those caught up in the hedgerows and brambled paths.
But the King was still not satisfied with His preparations, not yet.He decided that there remained one invitation.“I will go.”
And so He Himself knocks at every door one night, in the eve of the Starbright.
The door sounds in neighborhoods of the valley, in Yeopim and Elizabeth City, in Rocky Hock and Hertford, in Tyner and Roper, in Windsor and Columbia, Nags Head and the Outer Banks. In Edenton.
There is knocking at your door.
“Who is it?” the harried voices clamor from the TV den. “Is it Santa?”
The door opens, and it is the King, but He is disguised as a dirty child in a dusty coat with the colors of the wrong NFL team. “No, I do not want your money.
“I played my pipe for you, and you did not dance. I sang a dirge for you, and you did not cry.”
“But we do not understand,” the families did say, “And we do not have time to go up the hill.”
The hidden King looked deep into the loud, distracted hearts. “So I came Myself, because you have no more time …
“Come. Tomorrow morning …
“I will be there. I will guide you home.”
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