December 1998 Issue

I remember watching Papa and big brother go out with the sheep. Sometimes they took the sheep high into the mountains. There were strong folds up there where the ewes could give birth in safety. Then they would be gone for days, or even weeks. But now the newborn lambs had learned to walk and the older sheep were getting fat. Papa was keeping them closer to the city. Papa said, "they're just about ready for market. They'll bring us a good price!"

Papa only worried about two things: the price his sheep brought at market and the wolves. "You can't be too careful, my little one," he would say to me in odd moments. His words seemed to be replying to a question I'd asked. Only I hadn't asked him anything. But just the same, he would say "the shop keepers will steal you blind and the wolves will take your eyes!" I was never sure what that meant. But I know that the lines in his face seemed to deepen after each long season in the mountains.

He would come home after a long final day at the market, shaking his head, saying, "Ah-h-h my son! Today I saw the impossible! A wolf wearing a tunic and looking for all the world like Trader Ali Ben-Shofa." Often Papa would put an old rag on his head, pull his face into a strange shape and then say, "I am Mr. Ali Ben-Shofa, the best trader in Bethlehem. You want to sell me your sheep? I thought they were dogs!"

Papa would then snort, "Traders! They can't do honest work. They live off of the work of others."

Sometimes I went into the market with my Mother. The traders all looked gruff and oily. Mother spoke directly to them. It seemed like a game call "Get As Much As You Can!" Sometimes a trader and my Mother would talk for hours over the price of a pair of sandals. And she would not always buy, even if she had just spent hours looking for that very thing. "Something worth having is worth waiting for," she would say at times like that. The traders always were polite when you left, but they looked disappointed.

Today there were lots of people in the market. "They're travelers," my Mother said. "They've come back here so the Romans can count them. They count us just like your Papa courts his sheep." The traders seemed happy for the extra business. The prices seemed even higher.

"Why should I sell this bread to you at 13 dinars when these travelers will pay three times as much," said Mr. Ali Ben-shofa. "Come back another day when you can afford my price."

Papa was hurt and angry when he heard the story. "That man! Someday he will want a crust of bread, and there will be no money in his purse."

Papa put his cloak around him. "I'm going to the sheep." Then he looked at me. "Would you like to come along with me? It is maybe time for you to spend your first night with the sheep."

I tingled with excitement! I nodded "Yes!" because I couldn't talk, I was so exited. I got my staff and my cloak. I was going to be with the shepherds! I tried to walk as tall as I could as we traveled toward the sheep.

My brother didn't say anything when I came into the sheep fold. But he gave me one of those looks...one that said, "Okay, you're here and I have to put up with you. But don't get in my way!"

I quickly got up on the wall of the fold, where I could watch what happened. In the distance I would see some of the other shepherds coming with their flocks. They walked in a bunch, like a clump of grapes, talking to one another. The sheep all seemed to follow them. I wondered how they could ever tell them apart. Perhaps it didn't matter.

"You and your brother start a fire for us," I heard Papa tell my older brother. Great! That meant I got to walk all over the hillside looking for sticks while he got to strike the firestones together. But we would need the fire. Already the sun was setting and I began to feel cold.

"Did you see all the people coming into Bethlehem," one of the shepherds said. "I saw people that looked like they were coming from everywhere! Big shots from Jerusalem, workers from Babylon and others. And always soldiers! Rome must be up to something! Why else would they want to herd us all into towns, surrounded by soldiers, and count us?"

"Ahh!" said Papa. "Romans just like to count things. It makes them feel important. They're like the traders. They think the more they have of something, even people, the richer they are. They should be content with what they have."

The conversation drifted back and forth. It went from one shepherd to another, like the smoke shifting in the wind. My brother moved away from me, to a comfortable place in the wall. He gave me one of those "this is my spot" looks. So I want up on the wall and laid down flat on my back. I found a place just right!"

I must have drifted off to sleep. It wasn't long before it seemed to be daylight! Then I got scared. The light looked like it was coming from the fire, only it was a big fire! The next thing I knew, there seemed to be fire everywhere! Almost like the air itself was burning...except it wasn't hot! And there was a sound...not a noise, but nothing I'd ever heard before sounded like it. Sorta like bells ringing.

Then the light was gone! But the men got up, grabbed their staffs and began to run toward the city!

I scrambled down off the wall as fast as I could! They were running very fast. I couldn't keep up with them, but I kept them in sight.

When they got to the gate of the town, they banged on it. "Let us in!" they cried. "We're shepherds from Bethlehem." The Roman guarding the gate looked them over and asked them a few questions. That was enough for me to cry out, "Papa!" He turned to see me and I ran straight into him. I was out of breath.

"Where should we look for a baby?" one of the shepherds said.

"Let's try Mr. Ali Ben-shofa," said my Father. "If there's anything like this happening in the town, he will know of it!" So they went to the market place and knocked on Mr. Ben-shofa's shop.

"A baby? You expect me to be a doctor too! he said gruffly through the door. "Just a minute! I sent them down to the inn," he continued. "I'm sure old Sirach charged them a pretty penny."

Sirach's Inn! I wasn't even allowed to go on the street where it was! But here I was, stumbling along with Papa and the other shepherds. I was too afraid to say anything, Papa might send me home.

"Haw! Shepherds come to town for some warmth and fun!" came the voice from behind the door.

"No! We come searching for a child," said Papa. "Ben-shofa said he sent a woman here who looked ready to deliver."

"Ben-shofa sent you! That crook!" he said with what I thought was a trace of warmth. "They're in the stable. It was better for them," he said simply.

So we went into the place where they

kept the donkeys and sheep. Not bursting in, mind you. But with some hesitation. It was one of the few times I saw Papa walk slowly.

It was quiet!

No one said anything for the longest time. It was like everyone wanted to just be there.

After awhile, I looked around. Then I noticed that we had been joined, quietly, by some others. Sirach was there, half-scowling at this new use of his stable. He laid a little box of powder next to the Mother. "Someone paid their bill with this," he said. "It comes from Persia."

Ben-shofa was there! He's even brought a small purse of gold, "for the journey you will take," he said.

Papa went up the baby's Father. "Here, take this with you. I use a bit of it to salve the wounds of my sheep. It keeps them strong when I bring them to market."

Then a final pair of footsteps came in. I could see the great cloak of the Roman Centurion! He said nothing, but placed his back to us and faced the door. It was as if he was guarding us from something no one else could see.

Well, that was a long time ago in Bethlehem. We went back to our sheep. Papa's sheep seemed to bring a better price at the market that year than I can ever recall. Sirach went back to his inn. More customers were arriving with the dawn. Ben-shofa returned to his market place. The other traders would be opening up soon, and he wanted to be the first open. And the Centurion probably made his way to Jerusalem. The really good ones usually wound up there.

As I grew up, I would continue to see these men. They looked different to me now. Softer and maybe more real.

And Papa didn't talk about the wolf anymore.

Donald D. Denton, Jr.—Richmond, Virginia
(This is a sermon offered, while seated, as a "first person narrative," on Christmas Eve.)