Zach and his flock were the last into the fold for the night. One hundred and thirteen sheep, just the same as last night and the night before. He pushed the last one into the enclosure and pulled the dried thornbush into the space between the two rough stone walls. On the way up to the heavy woolen tent that served as their nightly shelter, he checked the perimeter to make sure there were no gaps big enough for a sheep to wriggle through. For such stupid animals, they somehow knew exactly where every weak spot was.
Zach glanced upward and saw that his grandsons had already built the small fire that would keep them warm through the cold night. Abner and Dan were doing the same thing on the far side of the fold; and Caleb’s sons had already finished bedding their sheep down for the night.
The old shepherd lowered himself wearily to the ground and reached over for the bread and cheese that Sam and Tobias had laid out for him. He felt old, somehow, older and more tired than usual, and looked forward to the day when they would be grown enough to take the lead as keepers of the flock. Sam at twelve was almost ready, he thought. Next month they’d see how he did taking Hannah’s winter stock of woven cloth and spun yarn up to Jerusalem to the big market there. Sam had done well enough last fall at the smaller fair in Bethlehem, but the prices were better in Jerusalem, and if he could handle his temper with the abuse that shepherds routinely got from the city-dwellers it would be worth the trip. Things were pretty tense, what with the recent rebellion up in Galilee, but not actively dangerous. He hoped.
Zach remembered to his last trip to Jerusalem, when he had run into a patrol of Roman soldiers just outside the city. They had roughed him up a bit, and scattered his merchandise on the ground, kicking it around on the dusty road until they were satisfied, they said, that he wasn’t carrying contraband. “Contraband!” thought Zach scornfully. They were probably just bored and looking for something to brighten up their day. Everybody knew that shepherds never had as much as two mina to rub together. Fortunately nothing was torn, and after shaking out the cloth, refolding it into rough bales, he made the rest of the trip without incident. Well, except for being the butt of some city boys’ horseplay, holding their noses, pointing, and shouting “stinky stinky” as he passed. “Fools,” thought Zach mildly. He knew what they thought of shepherds. But how would they like it if there weren’t any? Just leave him alone and give him a fair price for his goods, that’s all he wanted. As stupid as they were, sheep were smarter than most of the city folks he had met.
But did Sam understand that? Was he in danger of following in his uncles’ footsteps? Zach still grieved over their loss. Levi had gotten killed three years ago in an anti-Roman riot in Jericho. Probably leading it, Zach thought grimly. He never could become reconciled to Judah’s loss of freedom, and he had hated Herod only a little less passionately than he did the Roman occupiers. Reuben had taken the opposite tack, abandoning the traditions of their fathers; the last Zach had heard, he was tending camels for an Idumean merchant on the Hebron-Alexandria run. The boys’ mother, Hannah, was the only child he had left, and she was married to a shiftless ne-er-do-well whose only talents were boasting in the local tavern and getting another child on her every year. Hannah’s gift for spinning and weaving was the only thing that kept the family afloat. Selling unprocessed wool, which was what Zach would otherwise have had to do, was an invitation to starvation. And with five girls to provide for! If anything happened to him, to Zachariah, how would they survive? He had to make sure Sam and Toby were able to shoulder the load. In a couple of years the twins could join them. Even at five they could start learning how to use a slingshot and how to mix the ointments shepherds used on cuts and insect bites.
Suddenly Zach was startled out of his revery. The sky was filled with light, brighter than the dawn which wasn’t due for hours yet. He fell back and felt the boys trying to burrowing under him like chickens under a hen’s wings. He threw his arm over his eyes and squinted underneath it, trying to see past the glare. And a voice as loud as a shofar, the ram’s horn the priests blew on feast days, but as sweet as the flutes the shepherds played to calm the sheep, filled the cold night. “Do not be afraid!” it said into the sudden silence. There was nothing around them but the voice and the light. Afterwards Zach wondered at the stillness of the sheep; they neither stirred nor bleated with fear. It was as if the whole world were holding its breath.
“Do not be afraid!” said the voice again. And as his vision cleared Zach
saw a glowing white figure holding up its arms - or maybe it was floating on outspread wings - hovering before him. The figure itself seemed to be the source of the light filling the night sky. “An angel!” he realized, wonder and awe overcoming his fear. “Behold! I have good news for you,” said the voice. “Indeed, it is the greatest of news! And the message is for everyone. This very
night a child is being born in Bethlehem, in the city of David, as it has been
foretold. This child is the Messiah of God, the Redeemer of Israel.” And as they
watched and listened, still too stunned to respond, the sky which had held only
the one figure was suddenly filled with countless shining forms, hundreds, Zach
thought, maybe even thousands, as if the stars themselves had taken shape
before their eyes. They danced and tumbled through the sky like flower petals
in a wind, and voices blended into a cascade of sounds, high notes and low,
bells and harps and sounds none of their stunned ears had ever heard before,
dizzying them with beauty.
“Glory to God,” they sang. “Glory to God in the highest heaven! Peace to all who live on earth, peace to all, peace and God’s favor to all who hear and believe!”
And then they were gone, as suddenly as they had come. The sky was star-sprinkled black, the ground was rough under their feet, the sheep began
to stir and rustle in the fold. Slowly the men gathered, still speechless, until they stood together on the hillside looking out over the shallow valley where the path to Bethlehem began. It was Toby who broke the silence. His clear young voice startled them all. “We’re going, aren’t we? We’re going to see the baby, right?” Somewhat dazedly they all murmured an agreement. “God has spoken!” said Abner. “Spoken to us,” echoed his brother Dan. Caleb’s sons were silent as always, but tucked their robes up around their waists, ready to be on their way. Zachariah thought fleetingly of the sheep left behind without a protector, but only stopped to pull the thornbush into place before rushing off down the track with the others. Who would dare do harm in the valley so recently visited by angels? Even lions and wolves would not dare. Had not Isaiah said that when the Messiah came “They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain”? [Is 11:9] And what place could be holier than this?
The familiar trip down to Bethlehem passed by as if in a dream. They were surprised to see how crowded the streets were, even at night. Torches were stuck into chinks in the walls, casting shadows on hurrying figures and illuminating a few men hunkered down in doorways with their robes wrapped around them against the cold. Sam tugged at Zach’s cloak. “Do you think all these people are here to see this baby?“ he asked. “It could be,” answered Zachariah, and then remembered the census. “But I don’t think so,”he went on. “They don’t seem excited or happy, just tired and in a hurry. They must not have seen what we did.” Abner turned back and hissed, “Hurry up! We’ve got to stick together.” “How do you know where to go?” asked Zach.
Toby darted back and grabbed Sam’s hand. “I know,” he said. “ Follow me!” Abner turned and started to say something, looked at Toby’s shining face, and said, “okay, then, lead on!.” Toby wove confidently down the crowded streets until he came to Eli’s inn and ducked down the alley behind it to the stable. “They’re in here,” he said. There was a rough woven screen partly blocking the door into the shed, and the men hesitated before moving forward. Zach cleared his throat. “Maybe we should wait until morning,”he suggested. “There’s a light,” said Sam. “They wouldn’t go to sleep with a lamp lit, not in a stable. If a baby’s just been born they’ll still be up. Let’s at least ask.”
Abner took a breath and stuck his nose over the screen and said, “Excuse me!
Excuse me, is there someone in here?” A deep rumbly voice answered them.
“Yes, Joseph bar Jacob and his wife and child. What do you want?” Toby pushed forward, forgetting manners in his excitement. “Do you have a baby? The angels said there was a baby.” A woman’s voice laughed. “Let them in, Joseph,” she said. The shepherds entered cautiously, to see a young woman lying on a pile of hay next to a manger which was doing double duty as a cradle. Her husband stood protectively over them both. “What did the angels say?” he asked. Zachariah noticed that he didn’t seem at all surprised that angels were involved. He supposed that if God was going to tell a bunch of shepherds what he was up to he’d certainly let the parents in on the news. And so they told them what had happened up in the Bethlehem hills, and Mary and Joseph nodded in silence, remembering their own encounters with angels. Awkwardly the men knelt on the straw and looked at the child. He was asleep, and looked very small. “May I touch him?” asked Toby, and Sam echoed, “Me too, please?” “ Very gently,” said Joseph. “Don’t wake him. It’s been a rough night.”
There was silence for quite a long while. Zach finally broke it. “What do we do now?” he asked. “What comes next?” Everyone looked at him. “What I mean is,” he said, groping for words, “The Messiah is here, right here in front of us, and yet everything outside there is going on just as if nothing had happened at all. What are we supposed to do? Are we supposed to tell everyone? Are we supposed to sell our flocks and move to town an become part of his household? God didn’t tell us what happens next.” They looked at each other. No one spoke.
Joseph finally broke the silence. “I don’t think we’re going to get step-by-step instructions,” he said. “I think we’re just supposed to live our lives, but with one difference. Now we have our eyes open. Now we know that God is with us. Now we know to look for him in everything that happens.” Mary added, slowly, “When God wants us to do something else, something we can’t see now, he’ll let us know. But from now on, everything we do will be holy.”
The shepherds looked at each other again. Then Sam said, “You mean tending sheep can be holy?” “Of course,” said Joseph. “ Weren’t you tending your sheep when the angels came?” Sam looked at Zachariah, with a look of purpose and peace strangely mixed on his young face. Zach felt the knot of tension and fear that had been tormenting him since Levi died loosen and disappear. His family would be all right. Sam wouldn’t run away and rebel like Levi and Reuben had done. He - and Toby - would know from now on that their lives mattered, even in an out-of-the-way unglamorous place like the hills of Judea. “We’re all part of God’s plan,” he thought, “if only we have eyes to see it. The Holy One hasn’t abandoned us after all. And even if I do not see the salvation of Israel, my sons will.”
The men rose, and giving thanks to Mary and Joseph for their welcome, turned back for the trip back up into the hills they had so recently left. Abner began to chant the Shema, “Hear O Israel, YHWH is our God, YHWH alone.” [Deut 6:4] And so they sang as they walked, and their hearts sang too.
