LAST NIGHT, ONE CHRISTMAS
By Barb Watt, 2022
Last night was the strangest night of my life.
Mind you, I’ve seen a few, but none like this.
Perhaps I’d eaten my evening meal too quickly, or the pot was too highly spiced. Whatever, my belly ached. I decided to walk off the discomfort, and indicated to the others I would be back before the evening star came out.
The ground underfoot was course and rocky, and more than once I relied on my staff to counter a stumble in the fading daylight. Soft bleating noises fell behind me. I breathed the cool night air deep into my lungs, as I made my way towards the knoll at the top. Starlings squawked and fretted around a Tamarind tree before settling for the night.
I loved this time of the day when the sun finally bled into the hills in the west, and the sky’s palette gradually changed from rosy pink to midnight blue. It was good to have a few minutes by myself. All day my eyes and senses had been alert, searching out dangers and opportunities affecting our charges. Now they sheltered in the rocky pen, with our apprentice, young Ben guarding the portal. As long as the animals were not frightened, it would be quiet till dawn.
At last I felt myself at peace and my stomach settled. It was time to return. The darkness would soon be opaque. I hurried towards the campfire in the saddle between the hills. Faint pinpricks of light indicated the nearby village, crowded with visitors.
Just as I approached the other three shepherds, it seemed that the moon suddenly broke through the clouds, bathing everything in a brilliant glow. Funny, I hadn’t noticed any clouds, and chided myself for lack of attention.
I didn’t see him arrive. He certainly didn’t storm past me across the open space. But there he was, an unexpected visitor, a giant of a man standing just in front of Matteas, our leader. I’d never seen him before. Feet planted firmly on the ground, he looked spectacular, yet completely incongruous.
Hair stood up on my arms and the back of my neck. Even the occasional bleat of the flock had ceased. I stepped behind the bush to watch.
My three fellow shepherds were the bravest men I’ve known, having killed lions and snakes with their bare hands. Yet they had dropped to the ground, shielding their eyes as the glow grew even brighter. Never had I seen them cower before man or beast.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ the stranger’s voice rang out. ‘I’ve got great news for you. Great news for everyone, actually.’
I snickered. What news could he have that would please everyone? Pomegranates from heaven for a week?
‘You have been asking and waiting for centuries for the promised Sent-One, Christ, the King,’ he continued.
I swear he turned towards me, and I slithered deeper into the foliage.
‘Well, he’s arrived! He’s the one who will save people from the burden of guilt and sin. He was born there, tonight.’ He pointed towards the village a mile away.
Doubts flickered across my mind. If this were true, why would the Almighty share this great news with shepherds. Frankly, we were considered scum by most, uneducated and, most of the time, unwashed and stinking. The last two were certainly true.
‘Want to see for yourselves? Seeing is believing, they say,’ the huge man with the shining face asked. ‘You’ll find the baby easily behind the last inn in the main street. Look for the stable. The baby will be wrapped in a blanket and lying in an animal’s feed-box.’
The intensity of the light suddenly increased ten-fold. Blinding! Oh! My eyes! What was this? I was now completely exposed. Nowhere to hide.
Radiance of a hundred noon-day suns dazzled our encampment, and at last my eyes adjusted. I peered into a vortex that had opened in the sky above. There was a whirring like a far-off wind. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I knew my scriptures; often sang them to the flocks to settle them. And I must say this had all the signs of being an angelic visit. Being somewhat of a sceptic, this was hard to reconcile.
Hundreds of beings glowing with reflected light swayed and circled in what seemed a beautiful dance. Words started cascading from them, slowly at first, others repeating them over and over. The volume swelled, sounding almost like a song. Soon the hundred voices became thousands.
I identified the words echoing over the hillside. ‘Glory! Glory to God in the Highest.’ Some repeated the cries in unworldly calls. Others pealed, ‘Peace to all those on earth who please him.’ Their words rose and fell, and bodies wove among each other, at times sounding like rushing water, at others, like the warmest blessing of a grandparent over his family. Though my neck began to ache, I couldn’t turn away for even a minute. Scepticism had been drowned in the joy and celebration we’d been part of.
As quickly as the angels appeared, they faded beyond our vision and the silence was profound. Deep darkness fell and the evening star shone strongly.
Ben broke the stillness, calling from the sheep’s gate. ‘What was that? Did I just have a crazy dream?’
‘Well done, Ben, for staying with the sheep,’ I commended as I hurried over.
‘Did you notice the animals were absolutely quiet during …’ Ben asked me.
‘I did. Amazing.’
The other three joined us and we squatted on some logs near the sheep-gate to talk of what we had just seen.
‘Was it the Angel Gabriel?’ Ben asked, his eyes wide.
‘Could be,’ I muttered. ‘He is God’s special messenger after all.’
‘He didn’t tell us his name, clarified Matteas, ‘but the message seemed pretty clear.’
‘Do you realise how amazing this news is?’ my brother James asked. ‘I mean, the whole of Israel has been begging God to send a Saviour to set us free from our oppressors for ages.’ My heart thudded as it did when witnessing a great event. But there was much I didn’t understand.
‘Before we tell anyone, we ought to check the story,’ I suggested. ‘Make sure there is a newborn in a manger.’
Matteas asked, ‘Ben, you stay here with the …’
‘Why? It’s not …?’
‘Just do it Ben. We’ll let you know.’
Despite being in my fourth decade, I had no trouble keeping up with the other three as we jogged into the little town of Bethlehem where King David had lived a thousand years before. People were mostly asleep though a few young men caroused down a dark laneway. At the end of the main street we came to an inn with a stable behind, down the hill a little.
‘This must be it,’ said James, trying to catch his breath.
A cow’s lowing alerted us to a path to the farm area beyond. A cave in the hillside had been extended with a shingled roof and rough walls against prevailing weather.
A certain shyness enveloped us all now we were here. What were we expecting? What were we going to say? We stood, thinking.
‘Hello, is someone there?’ a voice called from the stable door.
‘Forgive this very late visit,’ Matteas spoke for us, ‘but we must know – is there a newborn here?’
The man said nothing but seemed deep in thought.
He fingered his beard. ‘Tell me why you ask.’
The story spilled from all four of us, telling of our fear and surprise, and of the overwhelming encounter we had been part of.
‘Indeed, it does seem you have been honoured by the Almighty. Come!’
We followed, a hush falling over us. Inside the shelter sat a lass who looked about 15, dark smudges under her eyes. Beside her, a babe fresh from the womb lay wrapped in a cloth, on straw in a feed-box. I noticed smears of birthing fluid still on the infant’s neck. He was ruddy, but like any other child an hour or two old. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was a bit disappointed.
The father indicated the child, ‘Jesus ben Joseph, my new son,’ he said proudly. And this is my wife Mary. I am Joseph son of Jacob of Nazareth. We are of the house of David and here for the census.’
Tiredness was chased from Mary’s face by joy. ‘I overheard the stories you just told Joe,’ she said. ‘I could hear the awe in your voices. Joe and I have each been paid visits by an angel.’
James stepped forward. ‘We have brought you our best ram.’
‘Bless you, and thank you. We have not eaten for a day.’
Each of us watched the child sleeping, deep in their own thoughts. Every shabbat we’d begged the Almighty to send the promised King. Now he had. We seemed to come to a decision at the same time.
‘We must go and tell this good news to our families in the village,’ Matteas announced. ‘May the Lord bless you and keep you. Shalom.’
With a last glance towards the one on whose shoulders so much rested, we retraced our steps back to the street. ‘You and James head off to your folks, Daniel. They’re just up the hill. We’ll go to our brothers’. We’ll see you back at the camp before sunup.
My sister and her family were the first to hear our news. I knew they would want to visit the promised one. They had talked of this for years.
‘For goodness sake. Do you know what time it is, Dan? She asked. I couldn’t blame her. It was well after midnight. Yet after James and I had told our story, she kept mumbling that she had only been in bed for an hour or so after a long long day. As she waved us off, she promised she would try to look in on the little family after she had finished her work tomorrow. She cooked at the nearby hotel and everyone was doing extra hours. So many visitors in town.
‘It might not be till late, mind you. Or perhaps it might be the following day.’
Our brother Sam and his wife were our next stop. He had a rather lovely stone house in the centre of town, pillars either side of the door. Despite our enthusiasm, Sam was adamant that the promised Messiah would be a great king. He would be born in a palace, not a tumble-down stable. We were deluded.
‘And lay off the wine!’ his parting shot.
Our last call was to our elderly parents. They were the ones who had originally taught us to pray for the Hope of Israel. Surely they would take us seriously. Though hard to wake, they listened carefully, nodding, with an occasional ‘mm.’
‘I don’t know Dan. It sounds a fanciful story.’ My father said, rubbing his bald pate. We’ll have to think about it. The thing is, we feel so tired these days and it’s hard for us to walk far.’
‘But the angels said he is the promised one,’ I persisted. ‘Surely you two who have walked God’s way for so long must believe he has come.’
‘Don’t get pushy son. We’ll think over what you have said. Have a look at the ancient books. There’s no hurry.’
James and I climbed toward the saddle between the hills, our emotions battling within each of us. There was no doubt that something profound had happened last night. Once our initial fear was allayed! On the one hand our hearts overflowed with joy that God’s Messiah had come. We were utterly convinced. And honoured that the great news had been shared with us, the least important of men. On the other, why didn’t our loved ones want to seek him out? Why didn’t they believe God had answered their prayer?
‘There’s a lot more of this story to unfold, Dan,’ James muttered as we drew near to the silhouette of the sheep-pens. Already the sky lightened along the eastern hills. The call of the first cock echoed across the valley from Bethlehem.
‘That was the strangest night in my life,’ I whispered to James as we settled on our mats. ‘I wonder if anyone will ever believe our story.’