To my dear readers: If you want to give a gift that a friend or sister will enjoy, please consider clicking on the little Christmas book, "The Angel's Song" to the right. It's an inspiring, touching story of a foster child, alone and frightened and searching for her mother. No a syrupy resolutions here. I think you'll enjoy this second edition story. It's available on Kindle, Nook or paperback. Just click the link and it's easy to order.
I hope you enjoy today's little story, too.
One Shepherd.
Jacob squatted beside his small fire, his hairy knees
protruding from under his tunic. He tore at his bread with his old, loose
teeth, and washed down the mouthful with water from his wooden bowl. When he
felt Matthew’s eyes on him, he moved his feet a few inches to turn his back
more fully on the other shepherds. He turned the spit that held his share of
the lamb that had been killed by a wolf before the shepherds could drive it
away. The devil had dropped his prey when Jacob hit him in the face with a
large stone from his sling. It had been too late. The lamb was already dead.
Matthew had seen tears in the surly eyes when he saw that it was to have been
the Passover lamb: a first born male without blemish. But now he was torn and bloody from the wolves.
But twelve-year-old
Matthew didn’t need to see his lined cheeks or creased forehead to know that he
scowled every moment except in sleep. Bitter words and harsh phrases issued
from Jacob when he spoke, but thankfully, that was not often. But the boy was
certain about the tears. Real tears on the brown leather cheeks.
Matthew moved away from the fire to where his father sat on
a high rock to better watch over the sheep. “Do you know why Old Jacob wears
such an ugly face?”
His father placed his hand on Matthew’s shoulder and drew
him down beside him.
“I do know. Perhaps I am the only one left who remembers.”
“Will you tell me?”
“Yes, Matthew. But it is a sad story: a bitter story. Are
you certain you want to know it?”
“I am curious about
him. He seems to hate me more than anyone else.”
“No, he doesn’t single you out. The youngest shepherds always feel his glare
the hottest.” Father opened his coat and wrapped it around his son’s shoulders,
pulling him into the warmth of his body.
“I’ve told you a hundred times of
the night when we watched our sheep, right here on this hill. I was only your
age and Jacob was a young man, newly married and very happy. He played a reed
flute at night and his tunes were always merry. When the angel appeared in the
night sky, I was so afraid that I fell right down on the ground and he put his
arm around me to comfort me. When the angel had delivered his glad tidings, Jacob
leaped up first of all, to run to Bethlehem.
The town was surrounded with poor
travelers camping around it because of the census. The Romans had called for us
to pay our taxes. Every nook and crook and cave seemed to have someone nesting
in it as they waited for their names to be registered. But the angel told us
that we would find the new baby boy wrapped in his swaddling clothes and lying in
one of the stone mangers that are for feeding cattle when the grass is not
enough.”
“And you found the baby quickly
because of the brilliant star that hung over the place where he lay.”
“Yes. The baby was just as the angel
said and his bed was bathed in the silver light of the beautiful star. Jacob
squeezed my shoulder and drew me down to the earth to kneel beside the manger.
He said, “We are looking at the Son of God! He is the Messiah!” To me, he
looked like an ordinary baby. He was so tiny. It was hard to imagine such a
little fellow could be the promised Messiah.
“But when we knew we must return to
the sheep, Jacob played his flute and danced as we went. The heavens were
filled with angels, all singing and praising God, and Jacob seemed to be trying
to leap into heaven with them, and to blend his song with theirs. I did not
feel such joy again until the day you were born.
“All of us told others what we had
seen and heard. Not everyone believed us, but Jacob never spoke of anything
else. The next day, he took his young bride to the camp and showed the baby to
her. In those days, Matthew, there was never even a shadow on Jacob’s face, he
was so joyful. We all felt the honor and joy of seeing the Messiah, but Jacob
seemed to revel in it every hour of every day, even more than the rest of us.
“A few days after the birth, the
Holy Baby was taken to Jerusalem to be circumcised. I suppose they went on to
Nazareth from there, since that’s where his mother and foster father lived. We
didn’t see them again.
“But Jacob’s joy was doubled and
tripled, if that was possible, when a few months later, he learned that he was
to be a father himself. He set about making a cradle before anyone could even
see that his wife was expecting. He carved it with great care, and embellished
it with many small stars and with a large one that would stand over the baby’s
head. “So my son will never forget that his father saw the Christ!”
“We teased him that perhaps it would
be a girl. He would laugh and say that was impossible. He said he was the most
favored of all men, to be a shepherd, to have seen the Christ and to have a
good wife who would give him a child so soon.”
“Old Jacob had a child? Was it a boy
or a girl?”
“Well, he was right about it being a
boy. And he was born almost to the day, a year after we had seen the Lord. Jacob
went around the town with his big white teeth showing all day long. He never
ceased smiling. And his flute lilted through the nights and the sheep thrived.
His little son was indeed a handsome little fellow and Jacob liked to ride him
on his shoulder so that everyone in Bethlehem could admire him.”
Perhaps Father’s story drifted to Jacob,
because he turned and raised his eyes to them. Father nodded to him. He huddled
back into his coat, covering his head with his shawl.
“It is not a sad story yet.”
“No. But when almost another year
had passed, Herod’s soldiers swept down on the towns of Israel like a vast pack
of wolves. Herod had heard of the birth of the Messiah, somehow, and loving
power and riches, he was determined to kill this King of the Jews while he was
still an infant. They started here in Bethlehem and it happened so suddenly
that nobody had time to hide their children the way that Moses had been saved
in the rushes. Even at this distance, we heard the screams of the mothers and
fathers as all the boys younger than two years were murdered. Jacob didn’t know
what the noise was about, but he left us with the sheep and ran to his own
house.
“He got there before the soldiers but
there was nowhere in his stone cottage
for his wife to hide their baby. So he stood in the door and when the soldiers
came, he asked them why they were doing this. The soldier told him they were
ordered to kill all the baby boys so that they would kill the King who had been
born.
Jacob begged for the soldiers to
have mercy, but they would not relent. At last he asked if he was to tell them
where the baby had gone, if they would spare the rest of the children of
Bethlehem. They struck the bargain and so Jacob told them the story of the
angels and the baby laid in the manger. He told the captain that the parents
were Nazarenes and that the baby had been born at the time of the taxing. “He
will be almost two years old, now. So you see, my son is much too young to be
the child. The child Herod seeks lives in Nazareth. He was only born in
Bethlehem.”
Father spoke very low, as though the
words were squeezed through his throat with effort. “The soldiers thanked him
for telling them and dispatched a messenger to the captain. But then they said
that their orders were not to find the infant king, but to kill all boys
younger than two years. They pushed Jacob from the door and drove a sword
through his son as the baby nursed at his mother’s breast. The sword pierced
Jacob’s wife, too. Both of his family died in a moment and the soldiers carried
on with their slaughter without mercy.”
A long moment lay silently between
the father and son. “I understand why he
is so miserable.”
“No, you probably don’t. Of course
the whole land mourned and suffered for the loss of our babies. Imagine what
they had to bear in that cruel day! Jacob’s flute was silent and he did not
dance or speak. He would not go to the synagogue, either. The other families
recovered with time, but Jacob could not. The Rabbi said it was because of the
bargain. He had told the Rabbi how he had told the soldiers where the infant
Christ could be found. He believes that he has thwarted God.”
“But surely he has heard of the
Rabbi in Jerusalem who has done so many miracles and teaches such wonderful
things? You said yourself that you believed he was the Christ!”
“Yes, I told him. But he will not be
comforted. He told me to leave him to suffer for his sins. His faith has waned
to a flicker. He has forgotten the angels and the star and the child in the
manger.”
Matthew studied the wizened figure
hunched over his lonely fire. He felt him straining to listen to their conversation.
“Father, you must take him to Jerusalem for Passover. Tonight, when he saw that
the dead lamb was the Passover lamb, I saw tears on his face. “
“I don’t think he’d go. “
“Just ask him. Why were there tears
on his face if he has no faith at all? What can be better for faith than
Passover in Jerusalem?”
So Matthew’s father asked Jacob to
go to Jerusalem for Passover with his family. Old Jacob’s lips made a hard,
tight slash in his face, but he nodded once. “I will go to Jerusalem to face
the Rabbi.”
The following month, when the fresh
green shoots of April pushed up in the warm morning sun Jacob walked behind
them, shuffling his feet as though they were unwilling to carry him forward. He
scowled no less than ever. It was not a long walk, just two hour’s worth.
Jerusalem’s streets rattled and
roared. Everywhere, vendors sold unleavened bread, bitter herbs and young,
unblemished lambs. Everywhere they went, they heard of the Rabbi, Jesus. He
gave the blind sight, the deaf, sound and the lame, legs to dance and run. He
had come into the city on the colt of an ass just a few days earlier and had been
hailed as the King of the Jews. People fluted and danced as they rejoiced.
Matthew saw old Jacob straining his
neck to hear what was said. And when the people fluted and danced, his eyes
shown in a way Matthew had never seen before. He was terribly sad, but some of
the bitterness seemed to have slipped away.
That evening, when they camped on
the banks of a small creek, Old Jacob came to speak to Matthew’s father. “I
must see the young rabbi Jesus,” he said.
“It is very difficult with so many
people.”
“But I must see him. I have
something I must say to the Rabbi Jesus.” He stared at the ground, his cheeks
burning.
“We will search tomorrow. You see
that I already purchased a new lamb.”
“Yes.” Old Jacob clutched a handful of his own tunic over his chest. “I need
some help.”
All day that Thursday, they
searched. But it seemed that when news of the young rabbi reached them here or
there, he was gone by the time they got there. Finally they learned that he had
come in the west gate and had gone to an upper room of an Inn, already prepared
to celebrate the Passover feast. The landlord acknowledged that Jesus and his
closest friends had retired to the upper room, but he barred his way. It was
dusk. They must not be disturbed.
“We’ll find him in the morning,”
Matthew’s father told Old Jacob. We’ll come first thing.”
But in the morning, the landlord met
them, pale and trembling. “He has been taken to Pilate’s court!” he wailed. “The Sanhedrin is demanding his
life. He calls himself the Son of God and I believe him. But the Elders are
threatened, just as Herod was threatened by the news of his birth in Bethlehem!”
Old Jacob shook so violently that
Matthew and his father held him under his arms. “I was there!” he cried. “I
heard the angel myself. He said he was the Son of God! Peace on Earth and good
will to men!” How can he be crucified?”
“Hurry then! Perhaps you can testify
for him.”
The gates to the palace were already
closed but through the chinks, Matthew glimpsed a young man, stripped to the
waist, his hands tied over his head and spread wide. A centurion watched, his
arms crossed on his chest, while a slave tested the strands of a scourge. Bits
of bone and broken glass were braided into the whip. He drew blood from the
white, unmarked back of the Rabbi Jesus with his first blow. Two, three, four,
five, each found a new path until the girdle around his loins was blood-soaked.
Old Jacob turned to Matthew’s
father. “You must take your son away from here! You must not let him see this.”
The sound of the blows continued behind the gate.
Matthew wondered if he would faint, he was so dizzy. He leaned on his father
who put his arm around him, supporting him.
“Oh, my friends, flee from this, my
shame! He is betrayed! I saw him when his head was still wet from his mother! I
saw the star and the angel and I heard the heavens burst for the joy of the
praise of him! This cannot be! It cannot be!”
Another man, poorly dressed watched
also. “He gave me my sight. I was born blind and he opened my eyes.” Tears
spilled from them then.
Old Jacob turned to the man. “How
has this come to pass? How comes he here?”
“You said it yourself. He is
betrayed.”
“I knew it! I knew it. Thirty one
years they searched and now they have finally found him! Herod has caught his
prize at last!”
“No.” Another man, well dressed and
clean, spoke. “Herod has nothing to do with this. Do you not know that the
prophets said he was rejected and acquainted with grief? And it was his friend,
Judas Iscariot who betrayed him, not Herod.”
“Oh, it does not matter now!” Old
Jacob cried. See? They wrap him in purple and mock him with a crown of thorns!
I cannot bear it! I am come too late!”
The clean man spoke again. “I am
Joseph, from Arimathea. He knew that he would die for us. He must go into the
grave to burst its bands. He said so.”
“What else? What else?” Jacob’s
torment wrung his words.
“Why have you not come to hear him
yourself?”
Old Jacob rent his robe. “I couldn’t come. Not after what I did!”
Joseph put his hand on the old man’s shoulder.
“His words were of forgiveness. He taught of love and kindness. He said, ‘Though
your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.”
Old Jacob fell to his knees and
pushed his way, crawling to the front of the throng outside the gate. He forced
his boney shoulders up to a chink. Matthew could hardly make out what he
yelled, the din was so great in the press.
“Oh Jesus, thou Son of God! The
angel proclaimed your birth to us! I heard it! I rejoiced with the hosts of
heaven and I saw you lying in a manger in Bethlehem. King of Heaven and Earth,
Wonderful, Councilor, The Mighty God, have mercy on me, who betrayed you to
Herod’s soldiers!”
The press of the crowd was too much
and Matthew and his father were swept away from the old man and Pilate’s gate.
The sun arched toward the west already. They met with his mother and brothers
and sisters and they hurried back to Bethlehem, to be there before the sun set
and the Sabbath began.
It was a week later when Old Jacob
returned. He came with a flute to his lips and his footsteps light and joyful.
Matthew did not recognize him without his scowl, but he went to Jacob’s house
and he spoke in Jacob’s voice.
That night, as the shepherds
gathered for an evening meal, Old Jacob
joined the men around the fire.
“I was there, you know. I was a
shepherd that saw his star and heard the angel and met him first when he was
still in his first swaddling bands. I betrayed him to save my son, and my son
died anyway.” He wept again.
Old Jacob looked at Matthew and his
father. He lowered his voice, as though for privacy. “It was just a glance.
Just an instant in his suffering, but he heard me beg him to forgive me. Just
the flick of an eyelash and I knew He had heard me.”
For the first time in his life, Matthew spoke to Old Jacob without fear. “But
is your heart not broken for your dead son and wife?”
Old Jacob’s eyes shone in the
firelight, two liquid pools of joy. “He was crucified. After they scourged him,
they crucified him. We carried his dead body to a tomb. But he rose! He rose
from the dead. And now all of us, you and I, my Miriam and baby Jacob will rise
from the graves to live forever!”
And so it was that Old Jacob fluted
and danced again. His scowl faded away and the soft light of peace shone from
him. And everywhere he went he told the story. “I was one of the shepherds…”