Homeward Bound at Last
A Midnight Surprise
And Hope for a Better World
After I left Mary and Joseph in their makeshift accommodations, I went back to my inn. Fortunately, my friend Amnon, who was part owner of the establishment, was eager to share both memories and several flagons of wine with me. I appreciated his generosity. I was also happy to spend time in the tavern rather than go to my room.
Like all the innkeepers, he had made special preparations for the census crowd. He had not only ordered extra casks of wine, but also arranged to double or triple his income by stuffing two or even three people into his rooms while still charging each of them the single occupancy rate. I hated the concept but had no other choice. As things turned out, I never made it to my room that night.
While enjoying Amnon's hospitality I reviewed the past few days, much of which I had spent in the company of two wonderful people named Mary and Joseph.
Mary was almost otherworldly in her even mindedness. Nothing upset her. She had a mature inner confidence and stability that would put men and women twice her age to shame. Despite the discomfort of her pregnancy, she expressed compassion for the lepers and beggars we met along the road. She never complained about the erratic gait of the old sway-back mule that she rode. Everything that Joseph did for her was greeted with admiring affection.
She was delighted with the accommodations I arranged for them through my friend Amnon. His farm, which was adjacent to the inn, included a weather-worn lean-to that helped keep the sheep dry on damp, misty days. To Mary it was the epitome of comfort and convenience. She also welcomed the company of the sheep, who approached her inquisitively and were rewarded with a gentle pat on the head. Totally comfortable with her surroundings, she was asleep when I went to my reunion with Amnon.
I was equally impressed with Joseph. Although he seemed to be as mature and thoughtful as Mary, he consistently deferred to her judgments and wishes. I learned that he had his own carpentry shop and was doing well. But he seemed perfectly happy retreating into the background and eagerly accepted Mary's direction. His humility shone when we joked about a son of the great King David soiling his regal hands in a lowly carpenter shop.
But here was a real man, I thought. And we need more like him: principled, honest, hard-working, faithful, pious, and most of all, humble. These qualities made him steadfast, steady as a rock, solid in his commitments to his wife, his trade, and his God.
I was a bit envious of these two young people, and thought that their child could not have selected better parents, even if he asked Yahweh to choose them for him.
It was in the middle of this reverie that I had a frightening sensation that something was wrong. I realized that it was now past midnight, and I had idled away the entire evening in wine and reminiscence with Amnon. He had no plans to close up shop for the night, and was happy to serve his customers as long as they were able to pay.
I left the tavern and wandered out into the street, where there was still considerable revelry even at this late hour. I marveled at the resiliency of the Jewish people to turn an inconvenient census into cause for celebration. People were dancing, singing, laughing at silly jokes, many of which poked fun at Caesar himself!
But I didn't listen to many jokes. There was something else on my mind: Mary!
I was concerned that something was happening in the sheep shack. I knew Mary was close to her time of delivery and that it was possible her child might be born right here in the City of David. I was both elated and frightened at the prospect.
Fighting through the crowd of revelers I slowly made my way toward the shack. People nudged and shoved me as I tried to get through. Many were drunk and called me names I do not wish to repeat.
I soon saw the shack in the distance. Although it was dark, there seemed to be a certain glow around it. Why? It wasn't morning yet. It seemed as if I was no longer walking, but rather drawn, ever closer to the animal shelter where Mary lay.
The noise of the crowd began to dissipate. There was a sudden stillness in the air, an almost reverential silence. I saw a small group of people gathered around the shack, shepherds and a few peasants. Most were on their knees. Why? I asked again.
I made my way through them. They parted as if they knew who I was. I heard someone murmur "It's a boy." Joseph saw me and smiled. He whispered something to Mary and she lifted her eyes to meet mine. She looked radiant. She held up the baby for me to see.
Unconsciously I fell to my knees. My heart was pounding, my ears filled with the sound of a massive chorus--rich, soaring, beautiful music. Where did they come from? And what were they singing? "Glory to God. Peace on Earth." Peace. I was enwrapped in a comforting embrace at the very sound of it.
Miraculously, the child's eyes were open. They locked with mine. Clearly, this was no ordinary birth, and no ordinary child! A new Son of David has been born in the City of David on this wonderful miraculous night!
I asked Joseph what they were going to name the child. He looked at Mary. She nodded. "We will call him Jesus" he said.
(NOTE: This is the latest in a series of on-the-scene vignettes leading up to the miracle of Christmas. It is adapted from my book The Jesus Diary, which is available on Amazon and Walmart.com, and many other on-line retailers as well as directly from the publisher at Xulonpress.com)