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CHAPTER IX Shepherd's Campfire
Coals from the campfire glow hot and red from yellow flames recently fallen.
Bright flickers still spurt here and there, settling softly among the embers. Still the fire crackled, sending sparks like tiny shooting stars. The air adorned pleasantly with the smell of burning cedar. Lemuel hugged his thick wool cloak around his shoulders, his eyelids drooping with approaching sleep. Stars hung above with uncommon presence against purplish black velvet. Lemuel, however, was not thinking about stars. His head nodded with thoughts envisioning the lovely Sheililah. He thought of her eyes, her golden hair, the fullness of her lips and just as his thoughts began to consider the rest of this quean beauty, Ahiam spoke,
"Aaah!" It was loud enough to open Lemuel's eyes and twitter his heart. The first thought of a startled shepherd is, An attack! His hand reached with automatic practice for his staff. But it was not an attack. Ahiam, who was not preoccupied with blood-surging dreams of Sheililah, was taken rather with what appeared to be an anomaly in the heavens. Ahiam's exclamation sounded as if the breath were knocked out of him. No alarm amongst the sheep, Lemuel's second thought. An eerie incandescence enveloped them. It was not soft and glowing. It burst upon them, bright and abrasive. Gleaming. Frightening.
Young Jesse, a mere boy, emitted a high-pitched wail. Lemuel stared at him, agitated. Veteran shepherd that he was, he felt his presence of mind slipping. He thought he might urinate. The fourth member of the group, Elieazar, began to flee. Unheard of among shepherds. Shepherds were known to die protecting their flock. Elieazar suddenly stopped, confronted by an apparition which nailed him to the earth. His muscles could not work. He froze where he stood.
Lemuel had seen just about everything his calling had to offer. He had confronted and defeated predators of every description, animal and human. Lemuel was not easily awed by the events around him. There was the time for example, when a drunken centurion attempted to make sport of him. The officer had drawn his short sword as if to decapitate him. Lemuel stood straight, galvanizing the man with his eyes, almost daring him to strike. When the blow came, Lemuel caught the soldier's wrist with his hand and held it as if in a vise. Then abruptly, he laughed. The officer's colleagues saw the humor of the event and also laughed. The embarrassed soldier desisted and lowered his sword. Lemuel was not a man of whom one easily made sport.
This light, however, jolted him. He did not rise to the moment with detached coolness. He, too, was afraid. His stomach recoiled in a wave of mild nausea. Perspiration wept through trembling, clammy skin. What he saw was totally unknown to him--indeed, unknown to all living men.
The "apparition" that had so arrested Elieazar emanated a brilliance that permeated this theater on the hillside. It was human in appearance, yet inhuman. A man. A creature. A source of unimaginable light. After a moment of silence, it spoke. "Do not be frightened." Despite his appearance, despite the supernatural tension of the moment, his words, indeed, were soothing. If it is possible to go from intense fear to calm expectancy in an instant of time, it happened in the terror-stricken hearts of these peasant shepherds. "I bring you good news of immense joy."
Joy is the result and the essence of a love fulfilled. It is one of the many reasons for the gift of life. We may count it useful or productive to live one's life in the service of another, or of God. This is another reason for the gift of life. But it is the simple things of joy, the smile and laughter of a grandchild, the lifting of a cloud to the heavens, the smell of jasmine, the announcement of a birth; all of these also are reasons for life and living. "What is this news? For whom is it intended?" The words struggled to emerge from Lemuel's mouth. Despite his dumbfounded condition, somewhere in the back of his consciousness lurked the question, "Why is a messenger from God bringing news to insignificant, unknown shepherds?" Why indeed? Why does God invest himself in the insignificant? With the whole of Creation from which to choose, why choose earth? From among all the peoples of the earth, why choose a tiny sect called Jews? Why choose Abraham? Moses? Elijah? Why choose a slight youth to slay a threatening giant? Why choose Bethlehem? Why choose a manger, a stable of animal smells, in which to birth his Son? Why does God, as he moves events among men, have the perversity to make small men large and large men small? Why this delight in the unimpressive, the insignificant? Why his strength made perfect in weakness? Is it because he is attracted to humility and put off by the proud strutting of human arrogance? God holds sway over the heavens. Men of power and influence have no power or influence with him. This is perhaps exciting news to the disenfranchised, the governed, for those whose lives are dramatically affected by the whims of other men, men who except for status are just like them. But that is hardly the point. It could be argued that the impoverished have stronger character, are less pretentious and full of themselves. Alas, character flaws, pretentiousness and pride are as ubiquitous among the poor as among the rich. The poor are as quick to take unwarranted advantage of a weaker neighbor as are the rich. There is no honor among beasts, whether rich or poor. It is, nonetheless, a fact that pain is greater among those without the resources to make life more pleasant. Suffering is more prevalent. Babies die quicker and more often. More violence and murder. Hunger. The nagging feeling of being in need greater. The struggle for survival more intense. The malaise of will and determination more accepted and understood. More of their lives spent in prisons. Though many cry out against the terrible Fate that decreed their poverty, God is still more readily received among such people. They seek him for they have discovered that mankind does not love them, does not know what to do with them. They have no place else to go. If God does not help them, they will perish. Of course, the verdict of the affluent and sufficient is that these pathetic creatures need a God. They invent something, someone larger than themselves, larger than anything they know in order to help them survive in an adversarial, competitive world. Poor things. That is obviously why their God favors them, is it not? Lemuel, however, could not think beyond Why? Simple man. For him there was none of this insufferable, pedantic reasoning. Lemuel, a man of whom not even Rome made sport, was afraid.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior who is Christ, the Lord! The words had yet to have much meaning to Lemuel and his friends. They were still reeling from the spectacle of the angel's appearance. While God's angel spoke of peace and comfort, while he spoke of the coming of a Savior, their hearts pounded with excitement. When suddenly, there was with the angel myriads of heavenly creatures. The scene caused the three men and the boy to fall to the ground. Ahaim cried out, "God help us! We shall be slain!" But they were not slain. The heavenly beings instead began to sing,
and on earth, peace and goodwill toward men! And as suddenly as they appeared, the angel and the heavenly creatures were gone. The happy angelic rejoicing hushed. Sounds of night quickly descended. Fire coals snapped. Sheep heads lowered. A frog croaked in a distant stream, the sound carrying to their ears as they looked at one another, each clinging to the ground as if they would fly off it, their minds so dazzled they were sore. "Will they come back?" whimpered the boy. The question hung unanswered for a passing respite until Lemuel spoke, "I think they have left us." Silence settled upon them like a sweet syrup. "Now," he whispered, "Gather the sheep. We go to see this great thing that has come to pass." Lemuel, Ahaim, Elieazar and Jesse with their combined flocks of sheep descended the grassy slopes of the hills surrounding Bethlehem. In the darkness of early morning, the wooly creatures bleated their way into the sheepfold adjoining the stable. There they found Mary and Joseph, cuddled together in the hay, and the baby sleeping next to them.
He came. From hallowed halls of holy heights He came. Through Andromeda, Pisces and Orion, Through Sun and Moon this Scion Of Omnipotence came. Only shepherds were told. In the night wintry and cold, They nestled their flocks As the embers glowed And angels knocked At the hearts of children, He came. To a stable small, To hay and smells Of animal tells, He came. To a virgin, to a man, To all men He came. What shall we then do? How then, shall we answer? |