With apologies to
Nikos Kazantzakis…
The Last Temptation of Santa Claus by
Mark D. Mills
Nick blinked. He
stared at the contract in front to him. He blinked again. He couldn’t believe the amount of money he
was being offered, all just to use his name, or a variation of it, anyway. The
figure was more than Nick had seen in his lifetime, and after a life of
self-imposed poverty, of giving away so much, this money could do so much good.
He looked up at the smiling man seated across the desk from him. Three piece
suit, perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect teeth. Maybe too perfect.
“So, let me
understand you” Nick started, “your giving me all this just to use my name? No
other involvement at all?”
“That’s right.”
The man said. The man was Thomas R. Uley, and he headed up the largest global
toy conglomerate in existence. Almost any toy that was conceived, created or
sold at some point came through him. He took a big cigar from his desk and lit
it up, breathing in deep until it was smoking to his satisfaction. “That’s
right” Thomas continued. “We handle all the merchandising, marketing, logistics
and delivery. You might have to make a couple of personal appearances a year,
but what you can’t make, we’ll have people in place to represent you. You see,
we’re not buying you, per se, but what you stand for. Toys, glorious toys,
giving a sense of prosperity to every child, happiness to every girl and boy,
and all to be associated with your good name. And if we make some tiny profit,
well that just a reward for all that good will.”
Nick shook his
head. “But that’s not what I stand for. I stand for giving, not indulgence. I
stand for emptying yourself for others, not profiting off their need. This just
doesn’t seem right somehow, Mr. Uley.”
Mr. Uley smiled
even wider. “I know you don’t understand just now, but trust me, this is how
the system works. You have to do things sometimes to achieve the desired end.
You DO want children to be happy on Christmas Day, don’t you? Now, you can do that
worldwide, all in one night. Just sign the contract, and it’s done.”
Nick hesitated.
“I don’t know…” he started.
Thomas leaned
across the desk, and looked at Nick directly in his eyes. “Nick, Nick” he said
softly. “I understand your concerns, and they will be addressed. But for now,
think of the good you can do. So much more than ever possible. This is really
for the best, and just waiting on you.” Thomas picked up a pen, and handed it
to Nick. “Just waiting on you.” he repeated.
Nick took a deep
breath, signed the contract, and closed his eyes.
When he opened
them again, the scene had changed. He was seeing many things at once, all
different but somehow connected.
Nick focused on
a scene to the right, and as he moved, seemed to step into it. He found himself
on a busy sidewalk, hundreds of people around him, pushing and shoving. Buildings
on either side of him rose up to unbelievable heights, so high that Nick had to
strain to see the tops. Someone yelled “Hey, move it bud!” Someone else “Must
be some kinda retard.” “Freak, more like it”. Nick did not like the way this
conversation was going, so he moved over to the side, into a doorway.
After a minute
to compose himself, Nick started looking at details around him. People were
carrying multiple packages, each one large enough for several people to receive
gifts, yet the faces had no trace of joy. Determination, yes, frustration, yes,
even anger. But no joy. How could you give so much, and not have your heart
overflow? Something must be wrong.
Nick heard
bells. Knowing that town criers rang bells to announce news, he followed the
sound, in hope of some answers. When he saw the source, he stopped up short.
Nick saw a man in a red, fur lined suit beside a kettle, asking people for
money. He looked like a sophisticated beggar. The suit kept bothering Nick. It
seemed familiar. Of course! It was his clerical robes, although it was a very
poor copy. Cartoonish, even. This beggar was supposed to be him! Mr. Uley said
there would be stand-ins, but nothing like this. Nick moved on quickly, holding
back the urge to punch this heretic right in his jolly round belly. Just a few
blocks later, another imposter on the sidewalk! This was just too much. He
willed himself out of that scene (although he still wasn’t sure how) and into
the next one.
As the scene
around him came into focus, Nick found himself in a family home on Christmas
morning, and the scene was absolute chaos. One child was tearing into packages
in a frenzy, paper flying everywhere. No sooner than one package would be
opened, he would go to the next, ignoring the previous gift. And there were so
many! Surely many children must live here, but no, only one. In a flash, all
the packages were open. Then the child started to cry. Then started to scream
at his harried parents. Apparently, after all that, it wasn’t enough! Wasn’t
enough? There were enough presents for ten children, and this child wanted
more! Whispering a prayer for his parents, he moved to another scene.
Nick came into
another house, another family, another child. Unlike his previous view, there
was no abundance. This child was sitting at a kitchen table, a glass of water
in her hands. Her mother was moving around the kitchen, trying hard to spread
what little she had for her child to eat. It had been two days since her own
last meal. “Mom, was I a bad girl this year?”
“No, hon” the
mom said, “You were a very good girl all year long.”
“Then why didn’t
Santa bring any presents? Doesn’t he like me?”
The mom choked
up a little. “No, he loves you very much. He’s just poor like the rest of us.
Maybe he’ll make it up next year.” To herself, the mom said “Please, next
year.”
Nick’s blood was
boiling by this point. In a world with so much abundance, how could there be
such want? He signed on for goodwill for all, not just some. It was time to
straighten this out.
Hi willed
himself into the office of Thomas R. Uley. “Well, Nick, what a surprise! I didn’t
expect to see you again. What can I do for you?” he said, perfect smile in
place.
“You can release
me from that contract, that’s what you can do for me” fumed Nick. “Instead of
goodwill, there is greed. Instead of care, there is desperate want. I don’t
stand for any of this, and I will NOT stand for any of this.”
“Nick, Nick”
that familiar soothing voice came back. “Nick, this is far too complicated for
you to understand. That’s just business. Let us take care of things.”
“But you’re not taking
care of things, that’s just the problem.”
“Let us decide
what is right or wrong then.” Thomas rose, and his smile lessened just
slightly. “Nick, we control what the world thinks, and does, and we do it
through money. Those who have keep, those who don’t are not worth our time.
You’ve been paid for your part, we have everything else. Now get out before I
call security.” Thomas sat back down, pulled out a cigar from his desk, and
turned around.
Nick’s head
started spinning. He felt totally helpless. He closed his eyes and screamed,
“NOOOOOOOOOO!”
The old bishop
opened his eyes. He was back in his bed, in his own room, drenched in sweat,
hands still clenched in tension. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself,
and realized it was just a dream. He knew that people already recognized him as
a gift giver. He knew that people’s hearts are easily turned from giving to
others to receiving for themselves. But as long as people remembered why they
give, remembered the Child whose birth, death and resurrection gave the
greatest gift of all, it would be alright.
Nicklaus closed
his eyes, and slept.
