Christmas 2: Star

Winter was in the wind on that well-remembered night, biting cold, it pricked the skin, but no clouds blocked the light For an omen had arisen long before, and now hung still, above the valley floor. Like a snowfall on Mt. Hermon, the sheep lay all about, while huddled close together men voiced their hope and doubt that the star bespoke fulfillment of events so long foretold, that the star could bring redemption from the evil and the cold. Four hundred years had gone since the prophecies had ceased, with the spirit ever waning, sin and sacrifice increased, Now sons of Eli ruled the temple, and Esau's son the land and the only thing left for Israel was the suffering and the sand. Good had come and gone from the leading class of men, good that looked to God, now was gone, once had been. Oh, they followed the old forms, and took pains with the old laws, but the suffering of their fellows never seemed to give them pause. They preached a public holiness that never came inside, they preached a public good, when the inner good had died. It was a pharaoh sickness that had calcified their heart, it would take the God of Israel to bind what was apart. And now this flaming star had arisen from the east, portending greatness coming, either holy man, or beast, I the lowest and the youngest alone had watch that night, guarding while the others talked, guarding from my rocky height. Wherefrom whispered words of terror from the others caught my ear, terror mixed with weakness, mixed with treason, mixed with fear, countered now by words of scripture bringing strength and quiet calm, like oil upon the water, or a sweet anointing balm. "townsmen nervous", "soldiers marching","as Isaiah said", "Jerusalem, that's nonsense, its plainly Bethlehem" "What was that talk of Zecharias, back a while ago?" "No, its Herod's throne; he's done for, and there's sure to be a row" Now the sheep, up to this point, lay unbothered, calm and still layered one against the other, layered warm against the chill til their native nervous nature noted changes in the wind or a crumbling of the walls that divided God and men the air seemed queerly warmer, enough to alert our fears, and the voices stilled and faltered, as the shepherds tensed their ears, but the sound of wolves was wanting, while the bleating panic grew, confusing and confounding the bewildered shepherd crew. I can't recall the moment the note broke through the din, It was soft, and clear, so strangely near, it drew our attention in. It had the sound of laughter, of mother's milk and kisses, and brought our thoughts to fields of spring and long forgotten blisses. Its soft sustaining sweetness measured out across the sky, a cherubic fluted note, or a dulcent Godly sigh. They must have heard it in Bethlehem, and in all of Palestine, for it seemed to come from the edge of the earth, and go back to the end of time. The aural specter lent us grace, and we needed it that night, For the angel of the Lord appeared, robed in blinding light, and our only thought was our total unworth when compared to his purity, like a crippled craft in a raging storm trembles before the sea. "Fear Not" - and with it fear abated, and our quaking came under control, "Fear Not" - with a voice so deep and calm it reached to the core of my soul. "Listen, and hear, with every ounce of your manhood, to the thing I'm about to say, a tiding too great for priests or princes, I bring to you today." "Too ominous for them, but for the whole of man, too great to ever contain, Joyful news of the birth of a man, a paschal lamb unslain. As I speak he cries in yonder town, resting in a manger, a King disguised in swaddling clothes, of this world no more a stranger" "This is your Savior, your Christ and your Lord, conceived before creation, and laid for you in this lowly state, to bless His chosen nation." The angel's voiced trailed away, like a chord that vibrates long, and ere before it finished fast, ' twas joined by a heavenly throng. The sounds I heard I never new, the song I can't recall, but it seems I must have heard it once, long before the fall. The notes were formed of majesty, or justice, or mercy, or love And were alternately strong, like a lion's roar, or soft, as the coo of a dove. It left, when it left, like a warm wind passing bye and in passing seemed to blend to the sound of a baby's cry. I don't recall discussing who would guard the sheep, there was a child waiting; we had destiny to keep. It wasn't far to walk for men who drive the wool, It wasn't far at all, when your legs are your only tool. The barren heights of the hill gave way to house and to wall, and  the crowded pilgrim's inn gave way to a donkey's stall. Our excitement outpaced our manners, and we entered the stall in a rush, but cries of "Master" and "Savior" gave way to a quiet hush. The baby was sleeping, the Mother exhausted, her countenance weary and worn, and we had entered the sacred ground where a king had just been born While we stood there thus entranced, overcome with awe and wonder, we sensed a shame at our oafish ways, and our rude and rural blunder. Nervously, with trepidation, we put our knees to the dust, and paid a poor man's homage, and gave a shepherd's trust. An animal moved in the shadows, and a pigeon lone took rout. yet not a word was spoken, 'til the baby moved about. The baby's wiggle, the baby's cry, and our tongues let loose their joy, a rumble of words, a jumble of prayers, offered praise for the baby boy. And in our confused adoration, the eldest among us stepped through, proffered his humblest pardons, bowed low to offer his due a kiss on the cheek, and a tear on the brow, and sinner's grateful thanks were all the gifts he could muster, as one from the peasant ranks That was the example we followed, as each stepped forward in turn we offered a kiss, he offered God's love, a gift we could not earn. We came that night as shepherd's, we left that night as men Somehow, unalterably far, from the creatures we had been. Written December 17th, 2001 © on Dec 17 2001 11:17 AM PST   0 • 13