A Christmas Story: The Knakers and the Kwakers

Each Christmas Eve I do something along the lines of a narrative sermon. Here's last year's story.

Once upon a time in the Kingdom of Revel there lived a young, orphan  girl named Linny. Linny was an orphan who worked in the castle where the King had once lived and where the Enchanter lived now. It had been a long time since the King had gone away over the sea, and it had been a long time since he had sent the portraits which were to be hung in the castle but had been long since been discarded or destroyed or at least left unattended in forgotten halls and rooms in the great castle. At least no one thought they needed the portraits as long as they had the Mirror.

Linny’s mother had been a Knaker. The Knakers were a fun-loving people who lived in the center of the great city. The part of town from which Linny’s mother came was, of course, loud and boisterous and fun. The Knakers there always traveled in groups, and if you were to live among them, you would have the feeling that everyday begins with a parade and ends with a party. The Knakers were always talking loudly and singly loudly and were excited about everything social.

Linny’s father had been a Kwakers. (Now, this being a story about a long time ago in a  land far way these Kwakers have nothing to do with those friends you may have whom are called the same--though I am informed that some of them enjoyed their oats). The part of town in which Linny’s father grew up was a full of libraries, and parks with benches overlooking ponds and stroll ways for walking. Just as there were parades and parties among the Knakers, there was quiet and solitude with Kwakers.

The mirror, the Great Mirror as it had been called, was made by the King for the people of Revel. It was a wonder. Overlaid with gold, ornate and inset with jewels, the King made the mirror so that the people could always see him even though he was away. The day the King left, he brought out the mirror and set it on the dais near the large window behind his throne which overlooked the sea, and he told them that if ever they were discouraged or afraid or needed wisdom all they need do was to turn the mirror so that it faced across the sea. And if they looked intently and patiently, they would see him in the mirror in all his kingly justice, wisdom, and splendor, and they would be reminded of his love for them, his mercy and compassion, and his promise to return. Afterward, the King boarded his ship and traveled across the sea.

Long after, but not long enough, the Knakers and Kwakers were deceived by the enchantment of THE Enchanter—though none thought of themselves as having been enchanted. The Enchanter showed the people of Revel that they could look into the mirror and see themselves. It was fascinating, for up to that time, no one in Revell had nor had want of a mirror. The Enchanter taught them that if they looked into the Great Mirror they could see themselves, and the could see how others saw them. Looking into the mirror was such a help because by it they could see whether they were a good Knaker or Kwaker. Sadly, the Enchanter helped them forget for what the mirror was made and used the mirror for what it wasn’t made. After much use, the Knakers and Kwakers grew to depend upon the mirror and soon forgot about the King and his promise. “If only,” they thought, “one could take the mirror with them…then he would not need to make the daily journey to the castle and instead could spend the time in more profitable business such as reading and thinking or talking and having parties.

Having jumped into the Enchanter’s trap, they made their wish to have their own mirrors to the Enchanter, and so the Enchanter made small mirrors for the Knakers and the Kwakers to wear about their necks which he called, Vanities. The Knakers carried vanities so that they could see themselves whenever they wanted and the Kwakers carried vanities for the same reason. The Knakers liked to see themselves at the center of gatherings and parties--being recognized and enjoyed and showing that they knew this person or that person and that they knew what everyone had been doing. The Kwakers liked to see themselves too, but they liked to see themselves thinking or reading with profound and knowing expressions and answering complex questions with correct, thoughtful and profound answers. All of this mirror watching did not make either Knaker or Kwaker merry, though many of them thought themselves happy.

Increasingly the Knakers grew noisier, their busy-ness turned them into busy-bodies, and their love for conversation turned to talking about one another. As they spent more time looking into their Vanities, they grew suspicious of how other’s Vanities reflected their image, and so they were always looking over each other’s shoulders to look into everyone else’s mirrors to see what they looked like.

Now, the worst of the Knakers were called Rotters, not because they were ‘rotten’ which is true, but because they were rioters -- they started fights wherever they went and they broke furniture whenever they visited; they were terrors every last one of them. Most of the Knakers knew that being a Rotter did not make one look good, and so they forced the Rotters outside of the city where they could be as rotten as they liked and the Knakers could keep their stuff from being burnt or broken.

As the Knakers stole glances into other’s vanities, their suspicions were confirmed by what they saw. And just so, their friendships broke, their parties became stuffy, their conversation, cliché. They found that the only way to combat all of their bad feelings was to make more noise. And so they talked louder, had more parties, spoke more words, sang thoughtless jingles, and of course looked into their Vanities.

The Kwakers, too, loved their vanities. They watched themselves thinking and reading and speaking big words, and the more they did, the more brooding they became. They thought of what their friends thought of them, and when they found out that their friends did not think much about them, they became more fearful that they were unappreciated and more sad that no one visited them.

Some Kwakers lived in foreign lands and were called Watchers. Not having been given Vanities they were able to spend more time thinking about the King rather than themselves, and they grew rich in the lore about the King and about the Great Mirror. Sometimes they would come visit, but they found their Kwaker brothers and sisters did not seem to enjoy their company, and so they returned to their homes far away.

In time, as the Kwakers used their Vanities more and more, they grew resentful at the thoughtlessness of their friends, and they harbored bitterness in their hearts. These people who were so careful about what they thought and did and said became care worn with worry and fretting. The enjoyment of quiet conversations and thoughtful strolls and thinking retreats gave way to the noise of thoughts about what others thought of them and what they thought of themselves thinking about what other’s said and whether anything they did, let alone their thinking about it, mattered.

One thing that bound all Knakers together and all Kwakers together was how foolish and shallow and dull and boring the other was. Sometimes however, Knakers and Kwakers would become friends. A Knaker would find a Kwaker to be a good listener and so one would talk while the other listened, and, sometimes they fell in love an married just as Linny’s parents did. Linny’s mother and father, both enjoyed and was infuriated by the other. One was a party pooper and the other bossy. One was superficial and the other did not know how to have fun. They each argued and made up so many times, that, as is often the case in such friendships, they married so that they could continue for the rest of their lives. But sadly, they were not able to for as long as they had imagined, and they left Linny alone as an orphan in the city of Revel.

Alone in the world and in need of food, Linny worked as a scullery maid in the castle which means, as I’m sure you know, that she had the hardest and dirtiest job. Her duties were the most thankless yet most often complained against.

The Enchanter had now lived in the castle for many years, and it had been long since the sun shone in a bright blue spring morning. Day after day, the grey clouds hung like lead over the kingdom. And what with all the noise of the Knaker’s chatter and the Kwaker’s brooding, Revel was a busy but joyless place, and for Linny it was more so.

Everyday, all she saw was the grey of the stone floor which she washed with dingy water. Everyday she gathered the used up fireplace ashes. And everyday she faced the darkness of her future, for she knew that the constant burden of always being on her knees in the dirt and soot with no hope would squeeze the joy and love from her heart. She had seen it in the older staff and she new it was in her as well. She was impatient with the children who tracked across her clean floors and she was resentful at the children who had time and toys to do what they pleased. She had even taken out her frustration on the kitchen cat whose tail she pulled. She was hurt by the name calling and fun that others had at her expense when the called her “Skinny Linny” with that mocking, sing-song voice, and made fun of her by singing,

Skinny Linny do your chores.
Skinny Linny wash the floors.
Skinny Linny, such a biddy.
Skinny Linny what a bore. 

One day while she was in the throne room, washing the floor in front of a large piece of furniture, she noticed a red stone on the floor under the cover. The red stone against the grey of the slate floor caught her eyes. I would even say it hurt because she had not seen something so colorful in what seemed many months. Thinking that the stone came from the covered furniture, she thought to place it back -- she was after all, an honest young girl.

Pulling back the cover, she discovered the Great Mirror. Linny took the cover off completely, and as she looked into the mirror she saw her reflection. She remembered her father’s thoughtfulness and her mother’s mirth. She remembered the green grass and the blue sky; the stars at night and the lightening bugs that swarmed on warm summer evenings. She remembered winter nights that weren’t grey and cold but were warm and cozy with fire and friends and stories. She remembered the city before the King had gone away -- how bright and full of ease and just it was then. And she saw herself -- the scullery maid, Skinny Linny, alone and forgotten. And as would’ve been true for you or I, if we had been left alone in a sad place, she began to cry.

Almost inaudibly while she cried, she began to speak in between the breaths and quiet sobs, “Why, oh why? Where have you gone? And why won’t you come back? Make things right. Make me right.”

And as she stood before that mirror she heard the King speak. Whether she heard with her ears or just with her heart she could not tell. This is what heard,

When night is the darkest
And the winter cold
The King shall come meekly
The universe, to hold.
He shall be:
Homeless or those without home,
A gift for the giftless
Weak for those without strength,
And a kind word for the speechless
When I return from across the sea
Many will deny nor welcome nor receive
But you go this night by the sea and wait
For the return I promise, I now will make.

And so Linny who after not a little thinking and worrying and complaining, replaced the cover and did just as she was told. And speaking with a friend about what had been said, she went to the beach beyond the castle, where they found the little boat in which was wrapped a baby boy. Doing what she could and with the help of her friend, she saw that the baby was fed and warmed. The baby cried when he was hungry and he fussed when his diaper needed changing. For this was not the King looking like a baby, this was the baby King, and he needed all the help and care that every baby needs.

Not long after she found the baby, a great group of Rotters came to see Linny and the baby King. They said that Sky People had appeared to them with a great sound and light -- a light brighter than any burning and a song greater than any jeering -- it was heavy sound and light, and the terrors themselves were terrified. The Sky People told them that the son of the King, the King of Joy and Light and Love and Glory had come to Revel and that if they came they would share THE JOY of the King and find his son which of course, they had and did.

Linny kept the boy with her friend and they cared for him. Several days latter, some Watchers came from far away to see the baby King and to honor him with gifts, for they had seen signs in the sky that foretold his coming. Each of the gifts they brought honored what they understood to be how he would deliver the Kingdom of Revel from the enchantment of the Enchanter: Gold pure and bright enough for a King’s crown, Incense to veil his glory and majesty that he might walk among them as a sweet smelling fragrance, and Spice to honor the payment he would offer in the sacrifice of his life to deliver them. Of all these things, Linny pondered in her heart like a good Kwaker and thought of them often. And as a good Knaker, her heart rejoice and sang to the King and boasted to anyone who would listen about the kindness of the King who heard her cry for rescue and deliverance.

I could go on and tell you about how the young King grew, what he learned and how he fulfilled his Father’s wish to deliver the people from the Enchanter’s enchantment and the condemnation of their own treason, but that is another story for another time.

From the day the that the Rotters and the Watchers visited Linny and the baby King, much in the Kingdom of Revel remained as it had always been. The greatest gift ever given and surest hope ever offered went unrecognized and unappreciated. Indeed, many gifts have been given with the whole heart and have gone unreceived nor recognized. The Knakers and the Kwakers continued to use their Vanities. And in the noise of their chatter and their brooding, they never heard the singing of all that is--the light but heavy song which breaks through when Kwakers rejoice and Knakers listen. For some though such as Linny, nothing was ever the same.

We gather tonight to ponder and honor, to make merry and rejoice, for the KING who makes carefree the careworn and who makes the careless kind has come. The evil spell of the Enchanter has been broken by the Godspell. The King’s Son has come and broken the power of Vanity and sin. The Kings’ Son has come, and He gives rest for the weary and makes them merry and gentle.