My Strange Christmas Eve

I looked out the window to see the sun setting and felt the cool breeze of evening. The air was fresh, unlike the heavy, humid air in the house. Soon a chill would set in, but here in the house the warmth from having too many people confined in too small a space would prevail. The upper room was full with friends and relatives who had traveled to Bethlehem to register themselves. Many of them we had not seen for years, some never before. It was like this everywhere as people criss-crossed the countryside to return to ancestral homes. You might think it a burden, but to us it was a privilege to provide such hospitality. You never knew when an angel might be among such travelers.

Things were just beginning to settle down as the light faded when a knock came at the door. “Who could that be?” I wondered as I climbed down from the upper room and nudged our donkey aside to reach the door. I opened the door to find my neighbor Jesse standing there wrapped up against the chilling evening wind.

“Shalom,” he greeted as I stepped into the doorway.

“Shalom,” I replied, “What brings you out, my friend?”

“Well,” he began as he leaned to look past me into the house, “I see you have a full house, too.”

“Doesn’t nearly everyone?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” he replied as he shifted and looked down to the ground.

“Well, what is it?” I asked. “Did you just come to stare at the dirt on my doorstep?”

“No.” He looked up. “There is a man here and I have no more room and he is a relative of yours. I thought it would be your place to take him in.”

“Jesse, where would I put him?” I asked as I moved aside to reveal the already overcrowded upper room.

“I know, I know, but no one has room and he is your relative,” he shot back.

I heaved a sigh, realizing that Jesse was right. Although we were all obliged to take even strangers in, the responsibility was greater when a relative was involved. “Alright,” I said, “bring him here. We will find room.”

Jesse stood motionless. “There’s more,” he said, still eyeing the dirt. “He has a companion.”

“Oh for…so, we’ll make room for him, too,” I replied, with more frustration than I really intended.

“It’s not a ‘him,’ his companion. It’s a woman.”

“Ok, so he has his wife with him. It will be fine. Bring them over.” Truly I had no idea what I would do with them, but there didn’t seem to be any choice.

Jesse hesitated. “It’s not really his wife, well, not yet anyway. They are engaged,” he explained.

I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “I know it’s not the best thing to be running around the country like this not being married, but it happens. I’m not crazy about it, but they are engaged, you say?”

“Yes, they are, but that’s not all.”

For the love of God Almighty I thought, what else could there be? Can we just get them in the house and get settled? “What is it?” I asked.

“She’s pregnant.”

My eyes widened, but all I could think to say was, “Ok, all the more reason they can’t just be left out in the cold. Bring them.”

And so he did. The man’s name was Joseph, from Nazareth in Galilee up in the north. He thanked me heartily, but with some reserve, I suppose wondering what I might think of their situation. The woman’s name was Mary and she was indeed pregnant, very pregnant. We settled them in as best we could. The only place in the house that wasn’t crowded was the lower room where the animals now lay or stood or fed at one of the mangers. At least they have some peace tonight.

Lamps had been lit as the light disappeared and darkness settled over the town. Conversations continued, but fewer and quieter now as some tried to get off to sleep. I was thinking of turning in myself when the quiet was torn open by a wail and moaning, the likes of which could mean only one thing. I looked up toward heaven and muttered, “Oh why not?”

Although this woman had arrived great with child, it now appeared she would not be so much longer. I wondered how we would handle the birth of a baby, but already the women had come to her and begun to make preparations. The men were moved aside and some descended to take company with the livestock while others decided to brave the night air. Thankfully, the labor was not long as those things go and soon enough the moans and wails were replaced by the shrill, chattering cry of and infant.

I heard one of the women shout, “It’s a boy, a firstborn son.”

The men began to regather and some were pushing Joseph to his wife’s, well, to Mary’s side. Not knowing the full story, I’m sure most just assumed they were married. It was a joyful occasion, but because of the late hour, many began to find places to sleep. The women had wrapped the baby in cloth and since room was so scarce they had placed new straw in one of the mangers, lined it with more cloth and laid him there. Ingenious, I thought. All we have to do is keep the ox from drooling on him.
After a time, most were settled and the baby slept quietly. Joseph was stretching himself in the lower room. I walked over and offered my congratulations. Joseph nodded, but said nothing. “Jesse told me you’re not married. It’s not really my concern. You all will be fine here,” I told him.

“Thank you,” he replied, “we are in your debt.”

“You have a beautiful son,” I offered. Again only the nod. “He is your son,” I said, half statement, half question. Joseph did not respond.

“Joseph? The baby is yours, isn’t it?” I asked, beginning to be troubled that perhaps their story was more complicated and difficult than I had realized.

“Under the law, he is my son,” Joseph stated, slowly and deliberately. “By nature he is not.”

I drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. She appears as such an innocent girl…”

Joseph cut me off with fire in both his words and his eyes, “She is. No man has touched her.”

I had to stifle a laugh at such an impossible response. Then Joseph began to explain. He told me about the visit of an angel to Mary, foretelling what would happen and how he had thought to divorce her, but that he too had seen an angel in a dream who told him not to. The child was from God, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

I must have looked dumfounded, for at last he said, “I know. I do not understand it either.” And with that he returned to Mary’s side.

Before I would process all this new information, some of the animals grew restless around me, shifting and pawing the ground, some making those soft, worried noises they make when they are afraid. I stood completely still and could faintly hear something outside. It grew louder until I could make out voices, several of them and the commotion that accompanies a group of people as they walk.

I picked up my staff and moved to the door. Just then I heard, “Here, this place.” I yanked open the door, my staff ready, to find several now startled shepherds.

“Sorry, sir,” the one nearest the door said as he drew back. “I know it’s late, but we are looking for the baby.”

My eyes narrowed, “What?” I snarled, unable to process what was happening fast enough.

“The baby,” another repeated. “He’s is supposed to be in Bethlehem in a manger.”

“And wrapped in cloths,” yet another added.

I lowered my staff and turned to look over my shoulder where Joseph and Mary huddled over the still sleeping infant – in a manger, wrapped in cloths.

“There he is,” the first one nearly shouted, then realizing again the hour, “Oh, sorry, but that has to be him.”

By now several others were up wondering aloud what was going on as they rose from their beds. I gave shepherd number one a suspicious look and asked, “How do you know about this?”

One of the others chimed in, “Angels.”

“Angels?” I asked.

“Yes. Just one at first,” he continued, “told us all about this baby and then there was hundreds, thousands maybe of them, all singing and praising God.”

“Really?” I was running through my mind what Joseph had told me. It was too much to take in.

They all nodded in agreement then one of them asked, “Can we come in?”

I stood for a second not knowing how to respond and glanced back toward the new family. Joseph had been listening and again simply nodded. I stepped aside as the shepherds flooded into the house, smelling almost as bad as the animals already there. They crowded around the lower side of the manger, all trying to see past each other to get a glimpse of the newborn. Their faces were radiant with wonder as my houseguests began to question them. Amazement grew and spread as the shepherds repeated their story.

Why would angels come to a bunch of shepherds and tell them about a baby being born in a nearby town? Maybe that’s the most curious part of all. For the angels told the shepherds that the news they brought was to be a source of joy for everyone: that here in Bethlehem a savior was being born and he is Christ the Lord.

The shepherds departed, louder than they came, praising God as they returned to their fields. I was left to wonder what all this might mean. Had God truly come to save us? Only time would tell. For now,

Oh come, all the faithful. Come joyful and triumphant. Come, come to Bethlehem. Come and behold him, who is born the king of angels. Come let us adore him. Come let us adore him. Come let us adore him – Christ the Lord.