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In the beginning of December in the year of the Lord 2016, the new wise men of Phantom Island saw that darkness had swiftly spread across the face of the land and that it was not good.

And so it came to pass that they held council and said unto each other, “when the multitude have never been so happy as now in this land flowing with milk and honey, why in this year has the music died? “

Though wise to their fingertips and wise to their toenails, yet from their wise lips no answer came and a brooding silence pervaded the conclave of the wise.

Then suddenly a voice spoke from the rear of the room. It belonged to a wise man who had grown old before his time and whose hair had turned white to make all believe he was more than wise, a savant come before his time.

He was the one who, many years ago, had brought home the Golden Fleece not with his brains but with his teams’ stroke and spin, won it not alone but with the indispensable help of a capable band of men who were sport enough to give him the credit. His strength had been the strength of ten then but since that day it had dwindled to less than one.  But, despite this,   his ego had increased in size and shape and was now large enough to accommodate a roomful of 46 wise colleagues as had his girth enlarged to eat for them all and still have room for more.

“Man,” he said, “does not live by bread alone and we must raise the spirit of the multitude by spreading a new message to satisfy their souls and fill their hearts with religious cheer. The season of Christmas has dawned and Christmas day will soon be upon us. We can see the truth of the Christian message of the folly of accumulating material wealth when we look upon the dismal face of the multitude. Though they have been served from the horn of plenty and travel in luxury and live a life of affluence, alas, they remain condemned to a poverty of religious sentiments.

“We must elevate them from their hell of materialistic wealth to a heaven of spiritual joy and release their minds from the pains they endure. We must take advantage of Christmas day and spread the Christmas message to these pampered masses who, though rich in luxury, remain poor in happiness and berate us for their sad fate.  Having provided for their materialistic needs and finding them still unsated, it behoves us, as the wise men of the land to pander to their religious needs on this eve of Christmas and convey the message of Jesus”.

The wise men remained silent digesting every word the white haired wise man said when suddenly one of them asked, “does not the church convey the message of Christmas anymore?”

“Oh yes, they do,” the white haired one said. “They have been doing it for centuries but, pray say,   has it ever reached our multitude and made them any happier. Nay, what I propose is a different method to spread the word and bring our people the bliss we promised them on earth. I propose we build a tree.”

“Build a tree?”Another wise man asked. “You mean plant a tree and grow it?”

“Nay, said the white haired wise one, shaking his head, “God created trees are dime a dozen. There’s nothing miraculous in that. No, I propose we build a tree. Saves time, too.  And we shall build it like the ancient wise men built the Tower of Babel. We shall build this tree so high its peak shall be lost in the clouds and the goings on up there will not be transparent to those below. They will not be able to account for what happens at the top. And thus shall they remain truly mystified of the mysterious ways of God’s work. Their minds will be so occupied trying to figure out what really happens in the misty uplands of power that they will have no time to think of anything else.”

“And it shall not be just another tree,” the white haired wise man declared. “We shall baptise it the Christmas Tree. We shall build it so high it shall become the tallest Christmas tree in the world. And what’s more, it shall earn us a place in the Doomsday Book too as another record of our miraculous achievements.

“And so it came to pass that the council of wise men decided to build the world’s tallest Christmas Tree to convey the message of Christmas.

But the winds of news travel fast in a wasted land and it was not long before the old priest in his old temple following his old faith received it. The tidings alarmed him, the report horrified him. He was aghast. He sent word and summoned his flock to share with them his displeasure.

THE CHRISTMAS TREE OF LIFE: “The evergreen tree becomes a sign of undying life, and it reminds Christians of the "tree of life" of Genesis 2:9, an image of Christ, the supreme gift of God to humanity”: said Pope John Paul in 2004

He said, “This is not the message of Christmas, this is blasphemy. When the people have no money to feed their families, when they have no proper houses to shelter in, when they cannot afford to buy the medicines to restore them to health, when they are repeatedly asked to tighten their belts around their ever shrinking waists to spend the people’s money in building an artificial structure and call it Christmas tree, and to build it so high to reach the sky merely to set a record, as if it was some sort of cricket match, just to  get a mention in Wisden, it is nothing but the squander of the prodigal son and not the work of wise men.“

“Often we see,” the old priest said to his flock, “that in a market economy many things are done using religion as a cover. This is something that wise men must refrain from doing and not permit the exploitation of religion to achieve commercial ends. This tree is an unnecessary expenditure. If the money spent on this can be used to help the poor, even to build a house for the homeless, to provide for a scholarship to a student, to but medicines for a terminally ill patient, it will be more in line with the message of Christmas. This is the work of the devil, not the way of God. It is done by men who follow a different faith and thus are ignorant as to the true message of our Lord.”

When the old priest’s opposition became widely known and reached the wise ears of the wise men they were perturbed. They hadn’t expected such a response. They had expected the priest to have raised his hands, yelled hallelujah and clapped in joy, hailing the Christmas tree as the new miracle of Christmas. And the wise men in their wisdom decided that, in view of the discordant voices stabbing the air, to stop work on this modern day Tower of Babel, labelled the world’s tallest Christmas Tree. And the old priest and his flock were happy.

But since the wise are blessed with wisdom and must make wise use of it, soon the white haired wise one found a way to meet the old priest’s chief objection. The white haired wise one was not in the habit of retiring to the dressing room so early in the innings. He was determined to stay at the crease even when ruled out. He did not believe in coming second or becoming second to anyone. He had to be first. That was the motto on the family crest, Numero Uno. Nothing else would do and he decided to fight the good fight and win his cup, even if it meant fighting the servant of the servant of the servants of God.

He said to the council of wise men, “the old priest’s main objection is centred around money and he says that the people’s money should not be used unnecessarily. We shall soon sort that out so that he would  not have a leg to stand on to make any valid protest. After all isn’t there a saying in the land of the Sinhale that Deviyange mallie sallie, that God’s little brother is money. We shall see and we shall show how God’s sibling can also become omnipotent when the occasion arises.”

Twelve good men of philanthropy came forward to say they will be providing the magical seeds for the wise white haired man to build his Christmas tree to high heavens, even as the old man on the market road supplied magic beans to Jack to grow his bean stalk to the clouds above where the ogre kept his golden goose. But they appeared in shrouds, covered in purdah, for they knew full well, having done this sort of philanthropy many a time in the past, that philanthropy to be rewarded in kind  in this life on earth, to reap more rewards here and now on earth than what they have sown, it must be done under  the cloak of anonymity. They knew that what they gave with their right hand their left hand must never know. In secret one must give to receive in secret the wages of philanthropy in centuple measure. That truth was more than a religious tenet; it was the way of modern day philanthropic life.

And so it came to pass that the wise council decided to send a delegation to meet the old priest and to exorcise his fears and assure him that people’s money would not be spent on this grandiose metal Christmas tree. The old priest listened with patient ear in silence and did not seem to oppose the wise men’s determination; and the white haired wise man returned triumphant, believing he had won the day again; and the work on building the Christmas Tree resumed.

But victory won, if not proclaimed to the multitude, is no victory. And the land’s tom-tom beaters were summoned forthwith twelve days before the Nativity to hear what the white haired wise man had to say of the glories of his new accomplishment.

He said to the scribes of the land, “Go spread the good news, go spread the good word, go spread the good message so the multitude can be happy. Tell them that what I am building is not only a tree. It’s a Christmas Tree. Tell the masses it’s not just a Christmas Tree that widely grows wild in the forests but one that will be made of 30 tons of steel and hundreds of yards of chicken wire. It would be decked out in bells, stars and doves made of more than one million pine cones painted silver and gold. The trunk is made of wooden planks recycled by saw mills. Tell me, compared to this, how poor and pathetic a god created tree is?”

“And that’s not all,” the white haired wise one continued, “there will be a 20-foot Santa and 40-foot sleigh made out of Styrofoam to be mounted halfway up the tree, which is to be bedecked with some 300,000 lights. And that’s not all, not only is the tree I build a Christmas tree, it’s a magical Christmas tree. I have invested it with magic and today magic lives in it, magic sleeps in it and its magic awakes to create miracles in the land.   Let me tell you why it’s a magical Christmas tree.”

The white haired wise one paused for effect and then began to say,

“The first miracle the Christmas tree wrought was to vanquish the opposition the old priest had. The miracle destroyed the old priest’s ignorance of the new religious creed sweeping the land, the same creed that swept us into the council of wise men. It dawned enlightenment on the old priest, out of touch with modern day realities.”

“The second magic the tree will conjure is that we will build it so high that it will earn a place for this land and me in the Doomsday Book and every man, stout of heart and who sips a Guinness, will little note nor long remember what I say here but he will never forget what I have embarked upon to do on the green, come Christmas day; and the world will marvel at my work, at this new world wonder I have created. “

“The third magic the tree has conjured up already is that millions the world over have already booked their passage to Phantom Island to behold for themselves this wondrous magical Christmas tree that will rise from hallowed ground to the heavens above. When the old priest’s objections were known they cancelled their hotel reservations but now that all is well again and the petty objections have long since dissipated, I am told that all is back on track, that all is well. I shudder to say that such has been the magical, magnetic pull of this tree that if Joseph and his wife Mary were to come this year  to our land, they would be hard pressed to find a single room available to bear their child and would have to settle for a barn instead.”

“The fourth magic that this tree will conjure up is that, with the massive tourist arrivals to view the magical Christmas Tree, it will fill our coffers to spill over levels. And already I have made plans to contribute, from the millions the magic of the tree would raise for us, to the eldest wise man’s special project The Kidney Foundation and also to my own services project to build houses and develop recreational activities.”

“But the greatest magic of all this Christmas tree will do is to promote religious and racial unity in the land,” the white haired wise one said; and pulling out a sheet of paper from his hip pocket began to read from the prepared script:

“The whole world is waiting, waiting for this one Christmas Tree to be built and made ready on Christmas Day. For this tree will turn tears to laughter, hate to love, war to peace  and everyone to everyone’s neighbour and the words misery and suffering will be words forgotten forever.” And the white haired wise one continued, “I know it’s a dream, an illusion now but – believe me – it must come true, sometime soon somehow. And all this will come to pass when my Christmas tree is done.”

And all across the Phantom land, the multitude heard it and they seemed to rejoice that here was not a prophet of doom come to cast the world in gloom saying the end is nigh, the end is nigh but one who filled their hearts with miracles, with magic, with joy and took them back to their nostalgic childhood days when unwrapping gifts seated around the Christmas tree was all that Christmas was ever meant to be. As adults now they could relive those past happy memories and, in the present, they could take a walk on the promenade and click multiple selfies before the magical Christmas tree on the green in the modern Garden of Gethsemane, that plot of land open to all whenever they wish to come to meditate, pray, play, relax, exercise or fly their kites. Christmas was going to be effervescent this year.

But the old priest in his old temple, steadfast to his old faith, remained despondent. When the news had first blown in the wind, across the barren waste, and reached his temple door, he had had serious misgivings. The intentions were good but were out of place. They didn’t jingle in harmony with the bells of Christmas. Thus had he spoken his heart out and said his piece and then left it to the wise men to realise the truths of what he had expressed. At first they had seemed to understand but then the vice of vanity and the self adulatory nature of the bloated ego had made them stray back to the path of error. They had come to his temple door and when they came he had thought they had come in appreciation for showing the path of Christianity but instead they had come to scoff, to rebuff his overture.

And when they spoke that the people’s money would not be spent, they had thought that he would be pleased. They had lost the import of his opinion completely. It did not matter whether it was public money or private funds. If people had money to spend privately let them spend that money on helping a less fortunate person, let them feed the poor, let them house the homeless, let them care for the sick and dying. Far better to engage oneself in elevating the sad lot of the Les Miserable’s than to squander one’s wealth erecting baubles of a transient nature. But this hadn’t sunk in to the wise one with the white hair. And in his ignorance, born and fed by an ever increasing ego, he couldn’t comprehend the message of Christianity. But this was understandable for he professed a different faith. And when, thought the old priest, when he, the old priest, did not respond and remained silent, they took it for acquiescence.

But what surprised him most was that these wise men had even failed to grasp the symbolism of the Christmas Tree. They did not know what the Christmas tree stood for. Hundreds of years ago, plants that remained evergreen all year round had a special meaning for people living in the western sphere during winter.

The winter solstice was marked by the early Romans with a feast called Saturnalia in honour of Saturn the God of Agriculture. They decorated their homes with evergreen boughs, awaiting the spring when the land would be green again. For the Druids, the mysterious priests of ancient Celts, evergreen boughs were a symbol of everlasting life. The Germans in the sixteen century, following this example, used the evergreen tree and made it the Christmas Tree.

And Pope John Paul in 2004 called the Christmas Tree, the Tree of life, a symbol of Christ. This very ancient custom, he said, exalts the value of life, as in winter what is evergreen becomes a sign of undying life, and it reminds Christians of the “tree of life” of Genesis 2:9, an image of Christ, the supreme gift of God to humanity.

The value of God’s tree was that it had once had life. Man made metal structures could never be held to symbolize life. It served only to make a mockery of the symbolic life possessing evergreen Christmas tree.

The wise men, the old priest realised, maybe wise in their own fields of faith, but were not that wise when it came to the faiths of others which they espoused only to show themselves as being enlightened liberals. It also revealed to the old priest the inherent danger of wise men trying to become the champions of a faith they did not follow or understand or even have a passing knowledge of.

And as the old priest went down on his knees before the altar of his lord, he remembered two quotations he had heard so oft – one was  Longfellow’s “Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad” and the other was by the Roman satirist Juvenal  “Heaven’s malice grants ambitions prayers – and he raised his head above the altar to the dome and beyond, even as Jesus, crucified on the cross, had raised his eyes to heaven;  and the old priest  echoed Jesus’ last words “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”