The Pope and the Snowman
A Christmas TaleBy Roger ColemanAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 Roger Coleman
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-1127-7Contents
Prologue..............................................iIntroduction..........................................xivScene I: The Pope's Study...........................1Scene II: In the Garden..............................5Scene III: Escape from the Garden.....................31Scene IV: On the Hillside............................37Scene V: The Pope's Study...........................46Scene VI: The Pope's Vision..........................57Conclusion............................................63Epilogue..............................................74
Chapter One
Scene 1: The Pope's Study
The Pope was up early On this day so unique, For that very evening In St. Peter's Square To the crowds he would speak. With a pen in his hand And paper on his desk, He closed his eyes gently Looking within For some truth to express. But try hard as he may And try long as he may "I can't find a darn thing Worthy to say On this Christmas Eve night."
He walked back and forth, He walked forth and back, Weighed down by problems Of famine, wars, "What if pirates attack?" After much, muck thinking, His mind still drew a blank. "I'll go out for a walk In my garden. There I think I can think."
Scene II: In The Garden
In his garden alone, The pope bowed down to pray, "O, Lord of Creation, Fill my empty heart. Grant me something to say."
(Clearing his throat) Excuse me, your Holiness. I couldn't help from overhearing. Why would you, the pope of all people, be praying for something to say?
(Startled) Who's this in my garden? This is my private garden. How dare you interrupt my prayers.
Sorry for the intrusion.
Why, it's a snowman. How strange. Why are you in my garden? I'm the only one allowed in here. You're trespassing, you know.
Please, forgive me my trespasses.
Why are you here?
I'm never quite sure why I'm anywhere at first, but wherever I am, that's where I am. (Looking around) Still, I don't remember ever being here before. This is a very quiet place you have. Yes, a very quiet place.
I know. I come here often to think or to give thanks. Today, it's to think, I'm afraid. I have a very important day ahead of me. It is Christmas Eve you know.
Yes, I know. (Turning to go) Would you like for me to leave?
No, you can stay since you're already here. With this unusual snow, I guess a visit from a snowman is not wholly outside the realm of reason.
You seem to be having a difficult day. Is your Holiness always so grumpy?
You would be grumpy too if you were in my shoes. Everyone expects me to say something important on Christmas Eve. The whole world is waiting and watching. And, well, the truth is I have not yet decided exactly what to say.
Are you telling me that on this holy day, you have nothing to say?
(Defensively) I didn't say that I have nothing to say. I simply stated that I have not decided what to say.
Is there a difference?
Don't make fun of me. This is not a laughing matter.
I'm not making fun of you. But still, it's rather astounding that, on Christmas Eve, you, the pope, have nothing to say.
I'm sure I will think of something. I always do.
Has this ever happened before, this-what would you call it-this failure to communicate to your communicants?
No. Today is different. I don't know why, but for some reason, I feel very empty inside. Maybe it's this weather. It has never snowed here on Christmas Eve. This snow is very disconcerting.
Not for me. Still, I know what you mean. Snow can sometimes make you feel so very alone, so very small.
It's all so confusing. All the pain and suffering of the world gets to be overwhelming. Everywhere you turn, people are fighting, children are going hungry. It's never ending.
You seem to spend a lot of time worrying.
It comes with the job. But sometimes I just get numb. And today, of all days, there seems to be nothing left inside me. How can I explain that to those coming tonight to St. Peter's Square for the annual blessing?
Can't you just wave to everybody and smile?
That usually works. But not tonight. It is Christmas Eve after all. My speech will be heard all over the world. I can see the headlines now: "Pope Confesses Emptiness; Fears for His Soul!" O what a predicament I'm in.
You're not feeling sorry for yourself, are you?
No. Confused is probably a better word. When the world is looking at you to express hope and all you feel is despair, you have to stop and wonder. It's not easy being pope, you know.
What's so hard about it? It seems like an easy life to me. You have a big house. You have this beautiful garden, and you have a very, very nice hat. In this economy, I'm sure lots of people would like your job.
I know it seems easy, but it's not. I live like a prisoner. Someone is watching me all the time. Look at the height of these walls. I couldn't get out of here even if I wanted to.
(Looking up) I see you what you mean. These are very tall walls.
(Confessing) And do you know what the hardest thing is about being pope, the thing that really makes it so tough?
Wearing that tall hat?
No. You get used to the hat. The hardest thing is, well-the hardest thing is I can never express any doubts.
(Suddenly very interested) Doubts? What kind of doubt are we talking about here: big doubts, little doubts?
Any doubt. Take this morning for example. I had a strange thought.
What was that?
That maybe I am too old for this job. Maybe the pope should be a much younger person.
That's some doubt!
You can see what I mean though. You start with one little doubt and then other doubts slowly start to creep in. What do you think? Am I too old to be pope?
Oh, I don't know. I'm much older than you. Am I too old to be a snowman? It seems to me that age is not so much a matter of years as it is the direction in which you are looking.
What direction is that?
To be honest, your Holiness, it has been my experience that those who look backward grow old much faster than those who look forward.
Are you implying that I, the pope, look backward?
Unfortunately, I think we all do, especially as we get older. We seem to spend more time looking at things that have already happened and not enough at the things we would like to happen. Consider children, for example.
What about children?
Do you think they wake up each day and worry about the day before?
I suppose not.
Of course not! They experience the day in front of them and think about the days to come. To become old, it seems to me, is to simply forget what it's like to be a child.
(Still grumpy) I was once a child, you know.
Yes, I know. I often saw you as a child.
It seems like such a long, long time ago.
But still, you remember.
Yes, I remember. Just this morning I was thinking of my mother and how much I enjoyed going to the park and having her push me in the swing. I don't know what made me think of that, especially now on Christmas Eve.
Perhaps it's because Christmas is a time for children.
And now that I think about it, as a child I never really wanted to come inside. I really liked being outdoors-like today. I very much enjoy being out here.
Today, no doubt, is a very special day.
I don't get outside much anymore. There are so many details to take care of, so many papers to sign.
The world is much larger outside, I think. Certainly you can see farther. I can't imagine what it must be like being cooped up all the time.
It can get very dreary. I often find myself out of sorts. I'm always saying no when I would rather say yes. Now it's no, no, no most of the time.
That doesn't sound like any fun at all.
It's not. Yesterday, for example, I was invited to visit Darfur to call attention to the children suffering there from hunger and disease.
And did you agree to go?
Of course not.
Why not?
I can't run around responding to every invitation I receive. Besides, if I did I would never get any work done.
And what kind of work is that? Sitting here and worrying about having nothing to say on Christmas Eve?
To be truthful, I very much wanted to say yes.
Why didn't you?
Sometimes I'm just afraid to leave this place. It's so much easier to stay here and not have to deal with people.
That's a little ironic don't you think?
What do you mean?
That you, as the pope, can spend so much time talking about the importance of caring-making speeches and signing proclamations-without really having to care yourself.
Did I say that?
What do you think?
(Defensively) I do what I can. And besides, I spend a lot of time praying.
I'm sure you do.
What are you suggesting? That I should do more?
You said yourself that you feel empty. Maybe talking about caring and not doing anything to show you care is part of the problem. Pontification, I think it's called. But what would I know, I'm only a snowman. You're the pope.
Don't remind me. It's getting late, and I still have nothing to say.
It's never too late.
Never too late for what?
To change your ways.
(Agitated) To change my ways? I don't need to change anything. I just need to find something to say tonight so I won't look like an empty old fool.
Calm down. Calm down. Maybe I can help you.
You? A snowman? How can you possibly help me?
At least let me try. What do you have to lose?
Nothing, I suppose.
I know this may seem like a silly question, your Holiness, and I hope you will pardon my asking, but what do you do for fun?
Fun? This is no time to talk about fun. Can you imagine what people would think if they saw the pope having fun? It would be as ridiculous as having snow in Rome on Christmas Eve.
But we do have snow in Rome on Christmas Eve. And that's the point. Perhaps this snow is an invitation.
An invitation? An invitation to what?
To see life differently, to even see the possibility of miracles.
Miracles? (Laughing) What can a snowman know about miracles?
More than you might think. Come, follow me.
Scene III: Escape from the Garden
How did you do that?
Do what?
Escape the garden without unlocking the gate.
Surely your despair is not so great that you no longer believe in miracles?
Of course I believe in miracles. It is just that, well, you're a snowman, and I am the pope. I'm the one who's supposed to know about miracles.
What's so unusual about a snowman performing miracles? Isn't it a miracle when water brings dry land back to life? Aren't children blessed with water? Just think of me as water in a very pure form.
But that doesn't explain how we got outside my garden.
The important thing is not how we escaped but why.
Then why are we here?
It's Christmas Eve, your Holiness. What better time for miracles to become visible. Open your eyes and look around. What do you see?
I see lots and lots of snow.
Besides the snow.
I see lots of trees. I never noticed all those trees. And birds-there are so many, many birds. What kind of birds are those-those brown ones with the red wings?
Those are cardinals.
Cardinals? They can't be cardinals. Cardinals are bright red.
Those are female cardinals.
I see. I guess I've never noticed them before. And what's that noise?
That's the sound of children playing. Look, over there on that hillside.
I've never seen so many children.
They are the greatest miracle of all.
But why are they making so much noise?
They're having fun.
Is fun always so loud?
Yes, especially when two or more are gathered together.
What was that?
That was a snowball. I think the children are throwing snowballs at your hat.
(Indignant) But I'm the pope. They can't throw snowballs at my hat.
Today, on this hillside, we're all children your Holiness. Maybe you should try throwing some snowballs back.
Me, the pope, throwing snowballs? What will people think?
I think that they will think that you are indeed a very special pope.
Scene IV: On the Hillside
Imagine if you can The pope in his tall hat, Dodging flying snowballs, Acting like a child, And tossing snowballs back. What a fun time it was: Back and forth, forth and back, Until one huge snowball Found its target And off flew the pope's hat. Amid giggling children The pope jumped on a sled. "Not so fast, not so fast." Down the hill he went, Ugh! Landing on his head. The pope stood up laughing. "Amen, amen, amen. I'm having so much fun. Let's climb to the top And slide back down again." "Whoop-de-do, whoop-de-do, I haven't danced in years." Twirling round the snowman, "Faster," said the pope While all the children cheered. Dancing ever faster, He fell below the snow, Lost, 'til a child reached down. "I've found the pope Immersed from head to toe." O, my goodness gracious, What a revealing sight As pope with snow inspires A new ice cream. Let's call it "Pope's Delight." Now the birds were chirping Like angels from on high, "Our roly-poly pope Is filled with snow, A blessing in disguise."
Scene V: The Pope's Study "Your Holiness, wake up. There's no time for resting, The crowd has all gathered In St. Peter's Square, Waiting for your blessing." "I must have been dreaming. Goodness, where have I been? My mind is so confused: A snowman, children, So much to comprehend." "He's talking like a child. I think he's flipped his lid. Maybe it's dementia. He's gone bonkers, Something about a sled." "Let me help with your hat. What a terrible sight. Why it's battered and wet. [Whispering] Looks like our pope's Been in a snowball fight." "What's all that commotion? From outside I'm guessing. Outrageous! Outrageous! An unruly flock Here for the pope's blessing." "Quick, look out the window. There're children everywhere, Thousands upon thousands, Chanting 'Pope, pope, pope' Throughout St. Peter's Square." "Where did they all come from? They should be home asleep. The pope has more to do Than bless bratty kids, Besides they give the least." "What a vision I've had. What a glorious day. My emptiness is gone. This Christmas Eve I've found something to say." "Let all these children come, For when the truth is told, Their joyful excitement And hopeful hearts Are worth far more than gold."
Scene VI: The Pope's Vision
Spoken with kindness and humility) Dear children everywhere, those of you here tonight and those of you at home already tucked safely into your beds.
You have come to ask for my blessing. Instead, I ask for yours.
This has been a most miraculous day.
I woke up this morning feeling very empty and very afraid-afraid that I would have nothing worthy to say on this holy evening.
But my prayers have been answered. This unexpected snow has brought a most unusual blessing.
Today, looking into your smiling faces, I have been filled with new hope for the future. And in seeing your joy, my enthusiasm for living has been reborn. In your presence, I am like a child once more. Thank you for this gift.
Traditionally, on this evening we gather to celebrate God's gift of a child-the Christ-child.
I confess that I have seen this birth as something that happened long, long ago and not something that continues to happen even today.
Forgive my backwardness. Now, as a result of the great vision I have received, I am beginning to see that every Christmas is as important as the first Christmas. And, in the light of the Christ-child, I now understand that every mother's child is just as precious as the one held by Mary.
I am humbled by this revelation.
In response, tomorrow morning I will begin a journey, and I invite you to join me. If your parents say you are too young to come along, I will understand. At least give me your prayers, for the prayers of children are the most important prayers of all.
Together, we will visit every city in every nation. It will be a long journey, and at times difficult, but we will persevere, and we will make a difference, you and I.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Pope and the Snowmanby Roger Coleman Copyright © 2009 by Roger Coleman. Excerpted by permission.
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