Jan 5th., Día de Reyes, tomorrow!

By José Blanco


Los Tres Santos Reyes...~...tonight...they come...there is excitement in the land...in kids' hearts...in grown-ups hearts, as they prepare for "los asaltos" that will come in, or not. "Asaltos" - a tradition, where friends, relatives and their friends, who might be 'strangers', sing carols at the doorstep, at any time of the eve or night, and one is to open the door, welcome them, and join in the singing, serve refreshments (!), and food, and whatever there is in the fridge! And when they feel it is time to go, they start singing as a group again, grab you by the arm, and there you go!, singing with them as they move to another friend's house, making the carol-singing-group yet larger by one more family unit. (This may go on till breakfast...I never - really - wished to be the last one: one is tired, somewhat 'fuzzy-dizzy', and now it is one's time to cook, prepare food for the carolers before they go to work (some) or to rest from the long night's partying before starting the festivities again, during "el Día de los Reyes".

Kids receive gifts, as the custom goes, left in place where they had tugged a shoe box with grass clippings underneath their bed, so that the Kings' camels could have something to eat in their long and tiresome journey delivering gifts across the world. Neat!

So for us in Puerto Rico, the holidays extend for quite some time, and maybe some of us will be or have been fortunate enough to have 2 sets of presents: one from "Santa Clo", and one or from the 3 Kings.

So, imagine who likes to work on an eve like today's and or a day like tomorrow? Who? Absurd!

Yet, the realities of the times call for that and more. Jerusalem - the birthplace of "That Child" - site of the event celebrated tonight, is enveloped in pain, passions, bombs, deaths, fear, rage, and despair. Power pushing powerlessness. Righteousness cornering life. Justice meting out abuse; innocence scapegoated as terrorist. Place of prolongation of hatred for generations to come. Events so irrational yet so understandable. Understandable yet unbelievable. Real, yet surreal.

Those camels then, become tonight's armoured crushing vehicles, squadrons of them, and will squander the clippings of grass, delivering fatal exploding missiles, and not children's gifts. Not toys. Not dreams.

Was that Child's mission a failure? Was the message never heard, or understood? If you think so, can you explain it to a grieving mother...a parent...a child? Can you justify it to them...on either side of the 'line'?

Who understands?

What is my 3 King's gift...what is yours? What do we need to address? What is the shoe box for us? What are we expecting for in that box?...that we are so willing to let go of - as grass - in that box? Or are we just plainly asking for our 'due'?

After all, it IS a tradition.

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