BETHLEHEM STAR synopsis

LOGLINE 

We all have a destiny . . . if we’re patient enough to wait until just the right time to shine.  

 

PITCH

A new little star is given a very important mission to lead Wise Men to the birth of a special child but is told this will not happen for a long, long time. The young star must withstand personal doubt, the taunts of older stars, the long stretch of eons, and the silence of the Galaxy. When it has just about given up, the little star bursts into its predicted brilliant glory and leads the Wise Men and others to the miracle in Bethlehem.  

 

SYNOPSIS 

Once upon a time a Christmas Star is born into the Universe. The Galaxy says its name is the Star of Bethlehem and although the smallest star in the Universe, its purpose is to shine brighter than any star ever on the night a Savior is born. Three Wise Men will travel with gifts for the child in a time of great danger and will need to see its light to find him. Although the Little Star wants the job, he isn’t sure he can do it. He thinks the job sounds really important. Most starts are part of Aquarius, Gemini, Leo, or Orion. However, the Galaxy says that the Universe is depending on its cooperation. For two thousand years, it will shine at half its light. Then at the appointed time, it will shine brighter than everything in the night sky. The Bethlehem Star tries to wait patiently for Christmas Eve.

 

As two thousand years passes, he wonders if the Galaxy has forgotten him. Even when the Little Star inquires of the Galaxy, there is only deafening silence. The Bethlehem Star withstands other stars’ taunting about shining at half its light, doubting it would ever shine fully. Tears drop from the Bethlehem Star all the way to earth, creating reservoirs of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Orion once tries to take his job, saying a comet, a planet, an angel, or even a shooting star should shine for Christmas Eve—much better choices than the dim Little Star.

 

More years pass. The Little Star tries to force itself to flicker just a little brighter, even if it hurts to do so, but all its efforts are for naught. Then, just when the Bethlehem Star is sure it has lost its chance for a miracle, the Galaxy speaks louder than before. It says the Little Star, not Orion, will shine over the Bethlehem manger where the Child is resting. As midnight approaches on the first Christmas Eve, the Bethlehem Star suddenly lights the night sky. It is so bright that nearly everyone on the Earth can see its glow, but especially the three Wise Men. All at once, a great company of the heavenly host appear, singing in the sky with hallelujahs. The Bethlehem Star is so excited to finally be shining his light for the Savior. Even the angels can see how the legendary star shines so brightly on Christmas Eve that the other stars are amazed beyond belief. For the rest of time, everyone in the Universe knows of the Bethlehem Star.

Copyright 2022 Jennifer Waters

The Man From the Synagogue: The Story of Coral Graf and a Lesson in Manna and Mitzvahs

“Dad, I’m going over to the Synagogue to talk to the Rabbi about the power of small miracles,” Coral said, while eating a bagel and lox for breakfast at her kitchen table. “I need to know that I’m doing the right thing with the coins from The Man Upstairs.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you,” Mr. Graf said, as he finished his Sunday morning coffee. “I sent him a box of bagels the other day.”

Coral felt a responsibility with each coin that she gave to someone. What if one person needed her coins more than another person? How would she know? She really wanted the Rabbi’s advice. Sometimes, her dad was too busy to answer all her questions. 

Her father grabbed his spring sweater as Coral gathered her tin can with overflowing coins from The Man Upstairs. She also put Puddles her porcelain pink piggy bank in her backpack. Last night, she filled him up with the latest coins dropped through the heating vent by The Man Upstairs. Pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, half dollars, and dollar coins galore! 

“See you later tonight, Coral,” Mr. Graf said. He kissed Mrs. Graf on the cheek and headed out to his deli for the day. “Love you both to the moon and back!”

Before Coral put the tin can in her backpack, The Man Upstairs dropped another handful of coins through the heating vent. Coral thought he must have known she was ready to go out for the day, and she might meet some people in need. Other people’s needs were so great that sometimes it overwhelmed Coral, but she was determined to make as much of a positive difference in the world as she could. 

“Don’t forget these!” Mrs. Graf said, scooping up coins rolling across the floor and handing them to Coral. “Also, if the Rabbi asks you to meet The Man Upstairs, it might be better that he says a prayer for him. The Man Upstairs is private.” 

“Since he’s the Rabbi, I thought I’d tell him about the miracles that have been happening with the coins,” the ten-year-old girl said. “Groceries are being bought. Rent is getting paid. Homeless people found homes and jobs. People are even getting better from cancer.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a nice talk, but don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t understand,” Mrs. Graf said. “Not everyone understands that coins fall from The Man Upstairs through the heating vent in our apartment building for you to use to do good in the world.”

“I’ve never kept one single penny for myself, Mom,” Coral said. “I’ve been giving everything away. It’s the only way to help people!”

“Not everyone has enough faith for miracles to happen,” Mrs. Graf said. “I personally think you are a miracle, Coral!”

“Thanks! I love you, Mom,” Coral said. Then, she grabbed her jacket and marched down the stairs to the New York City street with her mother behind her.

“You should stop by and say hello to me at the Empire State Building during lunch,” Mrs. Graf said. “I have to go to work now, but I’d love to hear all about your talk with the Rabbi later today.”

“I’ll stop by after talking to the Rabbi,” Coral said. “I could ride the elevators up and down the Empire State Building for hours, just for fun, like an amusement park ride.” 

When Coral arrived at the Fifth Avenue Synagogue, she swung open the doors and stood in awe of the gorgeous sanctuary. It seemed like such an important place to Coral. She tiptoed into the Rabbi’s office and hoped not to disturb anyone. 

“My name is Coral Graf. I’m here to see the Rabbi,” Coral said to his assistant. She placed her piggy bank on her oak desk. As she looked around the office, she noticed that the Rabbi had many books. She thought he must have been very intelligent and spent a lot of time reading. She had never seen anyone with so many books. 

“Do you have an appointment, honey?” the secretary asked. She pushed her glasses back on her wrinkled face. Coral thought the lady seemed busy. 

“Why do I need an appointment?” Coral said. “The Rabbi talks to God, and I want to talk to the man who talks to God.”

“Well, you’re feisty, aren’t you, young lady? Usually, you have to get on the calendar, but I’ll see what I can do to make an exception,” the secretary said. She walked into the Rabbi’s private office with a yellow pad of paper and returned minutes later with a tired smile. 

“The Rabbi has five minutes to see you,” the secretary said. She sat down at her squeaky, rolling chair. Coral wondered how she would ever explain herself in only five minutes.

“God must have a lot to say to the Rabbi if he only has five minutes to talk to me,” Coral said. “I’ll try to keep in short.”

The Rabbi looked up with a tired but kind smile. He took a deep breath as though pausing from a long day. 

“Your father sends such nice bagels and desserts from his deli. Now what can I do for you, Coral?” the Rabbi said. “You are such a fine young girl.”

“I wanted to tell you about the coins that I’ve been receiving from The Man Upstairs,” Coral said. She plopped herself on the chair in front of his desk. 

“Oh, well, what is it that you wanted to tell me about them?” the Rabbi said. He shuffled a stack of paper on his desk. Coral wondered how he could find anything in the big pile.  

“Well, the coins come through the heating vent, clickety clank, and drop into my tin can, and they keep coming as long as I give them away to do good in the world,” Coral said. 

She poured her tin can of pennies on the Rabbi’s desk. Then, she opened Puddles, her piggy bank, and dumped the coins from her pink porcelain pig.

“These coins are for you and the Synagogue,” she said. “It’s just enough to start a chain reaction of small miracles that create bigger miracles!” 

“Why, thank you!” the Rabbi said. “Please tell The Man Upstairs thank you as well. What is his name?”

“The Man Upstairs! His name is The Man Upstairs,” Coral said. She stacked the pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, and dollars coins into separate piles for the Rabbi. She thought he might need her help to be more organized. 

“I’m sure we can put your coins to good use around here,” the Rabbi said. “It’s almost like when the Israelites received manna from God in the desert. They only ate the manna that they gathered that day. If they kept it for more than a day, worms crawled all over it, except on the Sabbath. Then it lasted two days.”

“I love that story!” Coral said. “I wonder what manna tasted like. The food at my dad’s deli is probably better.”

“Yes, that’s true. Rabbinical scholars think it tasted like wafers with honey,” the Rabbi said. “So, you’re giving your coins away to do mitzvahs?”

“Good deeds!” Coral said, her eyes drifting to the open scriptures on the Rabbi’s desk. 

“Yes, good deeds, like feeding the poor, acting kindly to a stranger,” the Rabbi said. “Some people just throw coins into fountains for good luck, but you’ve done much more than that. Your actions show what you believe.”

“Maybe you could talk to God about this for me?” Coral said. “I’ve been trying to give my coins to the right people. The Man Downstairs needed the coins, and I didn’t know it at first. I was worried that the Man from Central Park was not a good person to help. He seemed to drink too much alcohol, but my father and I took him to the hospital anyhow, and I gave my coins to his medical bills. How do you think I should pick the people that I help?”

“I’m sure you’re doing a good job,” the Rabbi said. He looked at his watch, and then he glanced at the scriptures on his desk. “Follow your feelings and listen to the voice inside of you.”

“I’ll listen extra hard to the voice inside of me,” Coral said. Then, she pulled her ears. 

“My feeling is that giving away your coin collection is just the beginning for you!” the Rabbi said to Coral. “Your generosity is going to lead to great things in life!”

“The Man Upstairs gave me enough coins to make small changes in the world, even if no one notices them at first,” Coral said. “You have to start somewhere!”

She felt confident that she was doing the right things with her coins. The Rabbi had helped her have more faith in herself and her ability to make good decisions.

“Now remember to keep the Sabbath,” the Rabbi said. “I really have a lot of work to do today. I’m working on a sermon for the week. Zechariah 4:10 says, ‘Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.’”

“Thank you! I understand,” Coral said. “Let me know what you do with the coins . . . it’s just like they came from heaven.”

 

Copyright 2016, 2025 Jennifer Waters

Sequel to "The Man Upstairs: The Story of Coral Graf and Coins from a Tin Can" (1/3/15), "The Man Downstairs: The Story of Coral Graf and Her Missing Coins" (7/13/15), "The Man Next Door: The Story of Coral Graf and the Neighborhood Coins" (8/5/15), "The Man Across the Street: The Story of Coral Graf, a Hanukkah Miracle, and the Landlord with a Cigar" (9/10/15), "The Man Around the Corner: The Story of Coral Graf and a Homeless Cardboard Box" (9/10/15), and "The Man from Central Park: The Story of Coral Graf and a Bike Ride on a Spring Day" (10/4/15).

Dedicated to my grandmother, Augusta Renner Graf Waters. 

Musical Time: The Story of a Metronome Who Wants to Make Music

Galileo the Metronome was once content to sit upon the piano and click. Day after day, the old-fashioned wooden device observed Cadence the Composer play the piano and rehearse with his string quartet. The violin, especially, sounded like the most beautiful thing Galileo had ever heard. 

After all, he thought, he had strings of his own.

He wanted to do more than tick and click all day. He wanted to make music. 

For hours on end, he sat on Cadence’s piano, keeping time with his pendulum-swinging arm. Cadence turned him on and off, adjusting his beats per minute as needed for each new piece. 

But inside, Galileo was about to burst. He couldn’t take it anymore. Cadence used him only for his strict rhythm—never for expression, never for melody.

“You are such a necessity!” Cadence said one afternoon, tapping Galileo affectionately. “I would be lost without your steady tempo.”

Yet as Galileo listened, he considered that no one played music at an exact tempo anyway. He himself couldn’t keep perfect time with Cadence’s expressive pieces. He longed for someone to draw sound through him—true sound—just as a bow draws song from a violin.

Then, in a sudden rush of movement, Cadence accidentally knocked Galileo off the piano with his elbow. The metronome hit the floor with a crash and shattered.

“Oh no—my lovely Galileo!” Cadence cried, gathering the scattered pieces. “What will I do with you now?”

He set the wooden parts gently into the trash can beside the piano. 

“I’ll stop by the Music Store tomorrow for a new metronome,” he said. “Maybe one with blinking lights.”

Galileo’s pieces lay among crumpled papers and chocolate wrappers. The broken metronome ached worse than ever.

The next morning, Cadence’s young son, Winkel, peered into the trash and spotted Galileo’s pendulum arm sticking out. He dug through the papers until he found every last piece.

“Well,” Winkel said, “you’ll never click like a metronome again. But maybe… maybe I could make you into a violin.”

Winkel carefully glued the wooden pieces back together. Then he pulled four violin strings from his pocket—he always carried spares, just in case—and stretched them across Galileo’s neck. He used the metronome’s legs as tuning pegs, tightening the strings to exact pitches: E, A, D, and G.

At last, he thought, he would be able to make music. He felt certain the accident had been for the best. 

By the time Winkel had transformed Galileo into a tiny violin, Cadence had already replaced the old metronome with a new one.

“You’ll be as rare as a Stradivari,” Winkel whispered. He even crafted a miniature bow from Galileo’s pendulum-swinging arm.

Please, play me, Galileo begged silently. He imagined the sound waves forming at the friction of the bow against his strings, traveling through his bridge, filling the air around him.

“Here, Dad,” Winkel said, placing the tiny violin—Galileo—into his father’s hands.

“How special!” Cadence said. “Thank you, son.”

Winkel lifted the tiny bow and set it to Galileo’s strings. And at last, the former metronome made music—real music—and has never stopped since.

And Galileo had finally become the music he always kept time for.

 

Copyright 2016 Jennifer Waters

LOGLINE

When an old wooden metronome longs to make real music instead of keeping time, an unexpected accident and a young boy’s imagination transform him into a tiny violin who finally fulfills his deepest dream.

 

PITCH

After Galileo the Metronome is accidentally broken and tossed into the trash, the composer’s son, Winkel, digs through the wastebasket to save him. Using spare violin strings and the metronome’s own wooden parts, Winkel rebuilds him into a tiny violin. When the family plays him for the first time, Galileo—once limited to ticking time—at last becomes an instrument that makes music.