A Night To Remember: A grand story it was, and with the Galilean now preaching up and down the Jordan Valley, a story that was being re-told more often.
THE SUN WENT DOWN as it always did. Red and gold gave way to
indigo and the white glitter of stars. Benjamin waited, as he always did, for
the prosody of daylight to make way for the poetry of night – and memory.
Benjamin’s young companion, Joel, waited with him. Wondering
if the older man would recite again his tale of magic and mystery.
A grand story it was, and with the Galilean now preaching up
and down the Jordan Valley, a story that was being re-told more often – and not
only by Benjamin.
It was about a king. A saviour born in a stable. The
Messiah, no less: announced by angels; attended by Parthian wizards; hunted
high and low by Herod; and welcomed into this world by shepherds. Shepherds
like Benjamin – just a boy at the time.
It was a story that glowed with hope … and danger. Because
the Romans crucified anyone they caught telling tales of saviours serving
higher powers. The Jews already had a king, and he answered to just one higher
power – the Emperor. The ruler of the universe lived in Rome – not Jerusalem.
And Rome’s yoke was a heavy one. Taxes – always more and
more to pay. And woe betide the man who paid them late. Because when the Romans
came collecting they always liked to leave something behind. Something to
remember them by. A farmer’s body pierced by the points of their spears. A
son’s face laid open by the studded soles of their sandals. A daughter’s belly
swelling with the bastard child of some lecherous legionary.
Joel still carries the scars, and dreams of the day when he
can repay the Romans for their kindnesses. It’s why he’s so fond of Benjamin’s
tale. For when the Messiah comes and the prophecies are fulfilled Rome’s might
will be as dust in the wind. The Saviour shall drive all before him. His sword
will drip with the blood of the oppressor. And Israel will be free.
It’s why he still has such doubts of the Galilean: this
carpenter’s son from Nazareth; this Jesus. It’s all very well to tell people
that the Kingdom of God is at hand. But David’s kingdom is not about to be
restored by a handful of farmers and fishermen. Rome’s legions will not be
defeated by turning the other cheek.
“Describe it to me again, Benjamin. Tell me again of the
Messiah’s birth.”
The old shepherd smiles into the darkness.
“Light and dark, Joel. Grandeur and humility. For a moment
the veil that separates the material from the immaterial was lifted. We, the
mortal creatures of time, beheld immortality: caught a glimpse of the eternal.”
“But it was a king’s birth, Benjamin. There was gold and
frankincense and myrrh. Wise men from the East. You were the first to greet the
Messiah: the saviour; the redeemer of Israel. You saw him.”
“I saw a mewling child still smeared with his mother’s
blood. I saw three tired men: travel-stained and weeping. The air was
filled with the stench of mortality, Joel. Kings are the children of kings, my
young friend. But this child, this Jesus, was the Son of Man.”
“But he shall be mighty, Benjamin. He shall lead armies. He
shall destroy Rome!”
The old shepherd looked up into the night sky: recalling the
star’s brilliance; the angels’ shout; the pain of knowing.
“There is a kingdom greater than Israel’s, Joel. An empire
larger than Rome’s. And he, the Son of Man, the blood-smeared child wrapped not
in purple silk, but in the rough swaddling-cloth of a peasant girl, will lead
us there.
“You look for a warrior-king. A man of might upon a white
horse. But all Death’s horses are pale, Joel, and the Devil rides them.
“‘Peace on Earth’, the angels said. ‘Good will toward men’.
The Galilean says it still.”
“And the Romans will kill him for it, Benjamin.”
“Yes, Joel. But he will not die.”
This short story was
first published in The Dominion Post,
The Waikato Times, The Taranaki
Daily News, The Timaru Herald, The Otago Daily Times and The Greymouth Star of Friday, 21 December 2012.
