It was that happy, bouncy, time of year once again, when our church had its annual Christmas party; a progressive dinner followed by an all too familiar gift exchange commonly known as White Elephant, an inexpensive present with a fifteen dollar cap.  Such offerings would be opened, stolen, traded, and bartered over until late in the evening when half the people went home content and the other half (hopefully) accepted their consolation prize gag gifts as a reminder that the fun part of Christmas is being with your friends, even if these so called friends just sold you down the river.

This time, I decided to toy with an idea that had been in gestation for years and frankly, it was going to come together for far less than the maximum fifteen figure. I went to the used book store, purchased an old paperback copy of Jules Vern’s Around The World In Eighty Days, tore the book in half, and crossed out one word of the title with a magic marker, changing it to Around The World In FORTY Days.

Needless to say, I was insufferably pleased with myself all evening. In fact, it’s safe to say that when some poor sucker finally removed the festive wrapping job  and set his eyes on the wonder beneath, I laughed louder and harder than anyone else in the room. (Come to think of it, I may have been the only one laughing. I don’t remember for sure. I do know that the gift recipient didn’t even seem to have so much as a smile on his face.)

I supposed I haven’t grown up too much. Even now, looking back, I still think the stunt was hilarious even though it is becoming painfully apparent that I will probably go to my grave being the only man on Earth who felt that way about it.

One thing I will confess: It seemed strange and uncomfortable to tear apart a book, even one that I purchased myself for only a couple of bucks. It was my property and  I meant no harm or disrespect to the bound pages of fiction. I was only having some fun. Still, the story is a classic, written by a brilliant author and I get a troubling emotion when I think about ripping it open (even though, given a similar situation, I know I would probably pull the stunt again.)

Maybe my disturbing feeling flows from the awareness that many others destroy books for far more serious reasons, sinister reasons, sometimes by tearing them, sometimes by burning them, and mostly by editing, censoring or simply choosing not to listen when listening is desperately needed. But books (and their new nieces and nephews called websites, Facebook, or Twitter, I Pod, or Blackberry) are made up of words. The importance of a word is almost beyond description. With merely one sentence, words can whisk us off to an imaginary land that feels more tangible than the “real world.” They serve as a window to the soul, good souls as well as bad. Words can challenge our thinking or confirm our biases. They can encourage our day like a spiritual hug or shatter our self esteem faster than a jagged stone shatters flesh. The written word and the spoken word; two formidable partners. As human beings we are responsible to God for the words we use. On judgment day, our own words will condemn many our personal deeds (Romans 2). The God who sculpted you did so by speaking and the second person of His Trinity was called God the Word before He became God the Son (John 1).

There are few things in life more sacred than the corporate responsibility to protect freedom of speech and the individual responsibility to use words in such a way that they challenge and build up those around us,continuing the creative process begun by God, who makes us in His own image and wants us to participate in the ongoing, never ending creative process, by partnering with Him and nourishing our brothers and sisters (His sons and daughters). Sometimes we must tear down before we can build up, not through weapons of sword and bullet, but with shields of truth rising out of the shadows of confusion like a clear piercing mirror. God’s justice and mercy are carried on the eagle wings of words. So must the justice and mercy of His children.

And now that I provided a more contemplative reflection, I still cannot escape my satisfaction for bringing an unforgetable White Elephant gift. I doubt that anyone at the party that year remembers who went home with the nice coffee mugs or See’s Candy, or red candle sticks. But I guarantee somebody remembers opening Around The World In Forty Days, unless, (and this is entirely possible) he learned to successfully block the experience out of his mind in order to better cope with life.) In that case, somebody still remembers: Me. And somebody else: God. We’re cool, God, aren’t we?

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