The Road to Bethlehem

 

A story of truth and hope.

I was returning to my home in Bethlehem, having been away for almost three days. Trading had been good, and the donkey and I were coming home with an empty cart and a full purse. The various pathways were busy with people as there had been a command to register each person’s origin. Times were difficult, with political unrest and there had been uprisings from those persecuted and held in bondage. Increased taxes beyond what many felt were unrealistic. It was futile to object or try to hide one’s income. Something had to give!

My donkey became my confessor as we walked side by side. I told her the story of my life, my troubles and woes, occasionally she would give a gentle brae, letting me know she was listening. The light had faded, and I was unlikely to be home before dark. Perhaps I should not have allowed myself to stay for one more drink at the Tavern. Not to worry, I thought – the path was clear, and I would not be long now. It was then that I saw a young couple, her heavy with child and he with his arm wrapped around her. How desperate they looked. It was unusual to stop for anyone in these times, thieves and robbers would try anything, for even the smallest scrap of food. But what could I do? My heart went out to them, and as they looked at me I could feel nothing but love. A love that resonated within me, beyond anything I had known.

“Are you alone,” I asked them. “Are you going to Bethlehem?” Without thinking any more, I had suggested they rode with me. The southern road from Jerusalem to Bethlehem was uphill and not without its obstacles. They were guarded too, though trust overcame their concern and the young man, Joseph, rode in the cart. I suggested that the lady, Mary, would be more comfortable on the donkey, considering her condition. We travelled on together, exchanging small talk. My concern was, where would they stay? Joseph reassured me that all would be well, he had family in the town and though they were not expected, he was sure everything would be fine.

The streets were busy with people as I tried to make a way through. I had decided that I would see the young couple settled somewhere with family before I headed home myself. Joseph tried to persuade me to just drop them in the middle of the town. I felt a nervousness within me, which stretched to what I can only describe as fear. These are strange times, though this was a fear I had not felt before. Impending darkness, not of the night, that of death and destruction – yet, around Joseph and Mary, there was peace. I turned to focus on the task at hand, to locate family and leave them there. Although we visited several homes, each one was full and unable to take them in. This infuriated me. Could they not see their situation and need for care? Would no one shelter them, they who were soon to become a family.

Joseph insisted I left them where they were. There was only one answer. “Our house is also full. I have nothing to offer you, but what I have is yours. We are just outside the town, and I have an old cattle shed. It will keep you from the wind and my wife will bring some food. Please allow me to serve you, I would not sleep tonight otherwise.” It was agreed, and within the hour, they were both settled in fresh straw and a wooden manger waiting for the newborn child. My eldest had gone for a mid-wife to help Mary, as the rest of our family settled down for the night.

A stillness descended upon us, but we were not asleep; though we could neither move nor speak. The silence was broken by the cry of a baby. “He is born,” I whispered to my wife.

“How is it that all men assume boy babies,” she replied. This was not a point I was going to argue on. Peace held us together in that moment, there was no need to speak, for what would our words amount to. A sweet sound of what could only be described as heavenly voices surrounded our home. The youngest came to us asking, “What’s happening Daddy, why is there light in the old shed?” From the window I could see people, Shepherds, gathering at the doorway from whence came the light. This was no place for them, I had to go and tell them to return to their sheep. I put on an outer garment and within a few moments, found myself outside the shed. People were still passing by, but it was as if they did not see the light or have any interest in what was occurring. This was indeed a strange night.

The light drew me into the shed, not noticing the Shepherds or other folk that had gathered. I fell to my knees beside the manger. It was a boy, wrapped in swathing bands. My hard hand reached into the manger, and I gently touched his soft cheek. His eyes opened and radiated love, and a tear of joy ran down my face. “My God, my God. What night is this, and what do you bring.”

It was not long before this young family left us. Talk of soldiers coming with fearful orders to murder small children. A year later, my wife and I were still talking to each other about that holy night. We learned of prophecies told by Isaiah, that the messiah will be a descendant of David, and will come to bring peace and reconciliation. One who would be both human and divine. A King and a servant.

‘Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one, in whom I delight; I will put my spirit on him.’ (Isaiah 42:1)

Just like a mystical puzzle, the pieces fell into place. But how will we know, only time will tell. Though in my heart of hearts, I believe what I have seen and how that stirred me.

Emmanuel, God is with us.