Nicholas was an ordinary guy in his late 40s. He loved food, he liked classical music, he liked kids.
Nicholas was a professional choral singer who held his own in the baritone section.
One Christmas season in 1927, the choir he worked with was joined by a renowned guest conductor. The reason? They were going to perform Handel's famous oratorio, "The Messiah", in its entirety. All 230-some pages of it.
At around the mid-60 page range began the prolific piece entitled "For Unto Us a Child is Born."
The night they came to it, several members of the choir, including Nicholas, groaned inwardly. There, inscribed on those torturous pages, at least once for each section of the choir, sat a relentless string of 16th notes. As many as 64 were piled together, all into one continous phrase. And not even in the soprano section were these as punishing as they were in the tenor section, to which Nicholas (whose voice was on the high range of baritone) was assigned. Not only that, but the tenor section of that choir was decidedly the weakest.
The conductor, a wizened and irritable soul, was particularly exasparated as the tenors struggled with these runs. Hour after hour rehearsal dragged on, with repetition after repetition of those grueling strains. "Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho...", went their spotless inflection, but none of them felt jolly or cheerful at all.
Finally, they had been repeating this for so long that they repeated the "ho-ho-ho" every time such a syllable cropped up even in their normal speech. "I just want to go ho-ho-ho-ho-home," they complained to each other in whispered tones as the night dragged on long after the scheduled rehearsal time.
Finally, Nicholas had had enough. He stood up and cried, "Enough already! My voice is shot and I have relatives to ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-host!"
"Sit," snapped the conductor. "No one may leave until you all have mastered this piece to my liking."
"This is absurd!" retaliated Nicholas. "We can no longer work in this fashion! It's ridiculous to expect us to carry on when we're clearly spent!"
The conductor eyed him beadily. "You, sir," he said venemously (for he had forgotten Nicholas' name), "do not fully appreciate the work you are doing here. This is your gift to the community for their enlightenment and enjoyment on this holiday."
"Enjoyment?" Nicholas replied laughingly. "What enjoyment? I've performed this oratorio before. I've seen the bored, unstimulated looks on the poor childrens' faces, the yawns of the adults as they check their pocket watches, the single claps that many in the audience begrudginly give to a performance they have no interest in. Where's the entertainment, the enjoyment, the merriment in that?"
"This is no time for merriment," snarled the director. "This is a sacred work of music. There is no laughter in the presence of God. Only sobriety. Perhaps, if you cannot see the enlightening value of this piece, you can at least concentrate on glorifying God."
Nicholas simply stared at the director for a moment or two.
Then he chuckled.
Then he laughed.
Then he laughed harder, a great big belly laugh that was so joyful, so genial, so inviting that many of his fellow choir members began to laugh with him.
Then he said, "If no one has any joy or mirth or pleasure, how are we glorifying God? If we drag ourselves through traditions and solemnities for our entire lives, then we have not let the sun shine down on us! I will show you what I mean. Instead of 'giving' to the community what they do not want, I will give every one of them what they DO want. You'll see." Then he gathered up his things and walked out.
The next day the greenery began to appear.
Having taken up the few tools he had, Nicholas had set out and begun creating makeshift decorations from whatever he could find: scraps of ribbon or cloth leftover from the clothing shops, nuts and berries discarded by vendors as inedible. But most of all, he began fashioning makeshift decorations from the evergreens in the forest outside of town. Holly, spruce, fir - none of them were safe from his axe and saw. And the results were at once civilized and organically wild - Nicholas had taken his inspiration from the many festivals of medieval times and the Rennaisance, which were documented in the small library he kept at his home. The entire town smelled sweet and woodly, and the snow which had once been stark and cold now meshed with the bright reds and greens to form a much happier, brighter picture. Everyone in the town seemed more cheerful and motivated, even as the coldest parts of winter began to set in.
At the same time, Nicholas began to consult with a few shopkeepers around town - butchers, bakers, carpenters, and the like. Only they knew the plan he had in store.
Then, on Christmas day (which until then was a dull, uneventful holiday to the townsfolk), the town square was suddenly decorated for a massive feast, as if it had been magicked there the night before. The townsfolk were at first suprised and wary, but then Nicholas appeared, laughing his best and welcoming them all the his Christmas celebration. The shopkeepers he had been in discussion with helped him to administer the greatest celbration that town had ever known, filled with incredible food, delightful conversation, riotous rounds of folk singing, and many more festivities.
Best of all, Nicholas bestowed on each child present a small bag full of sweet morsels and simple wooden toys, which gladdened them all to no end. Each adult recieved a joyous embrace, a frothing mug of their favorite drink, and a spirited "merry Christmas". The gifts were small in and of themselves, but the joy and generosity they represented brought a new life into each and every one of them. Even the old conductor came and apologized to Nicholas for his unpleasantness. Instead of a reprimand or a lecture, he got another rib-cracking hug.
In time, Nicholas' tradition began to spread to other parts of the world. People gave, people sang, people loved. Christmas became the world's favorite time of year. And Nicholas himself? He would later adopt the nickname bestowed by his infantile grandson, "Santa." He vanished soon afterwards, but his spirit lived on. And so, his joy and love spread to the entire world. And even if they don't show it most of the time, their joy will always show at Christmas.