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Friendly page - click here A Shepherd's Tale |
| by Tom Gilbert
The night was peaceful. The cool, dry air accentuated the blazing star-filled heavens. The only noise was the occasional soft baaing from the sheep. Ishmael tossed and turned on his bedroll. He was restless, but didn't know why. He wondered if he should just get up and join his brother who was watching over the flock on the hillside. He suddenly sat upright. Someone, or something, was whispering in his ear. It was a beautiful voice, soft, yet with authority, like cascading waters! It wrenched at his young heart, and his eyes were filled with tears. He groped for his stick, then gathered his robe about him and cautiously made his way up the hill. The snoring of his fellows was undisturbed as he stepped by them. The voice continued, Awake! For tonight a son is born, a savior is given. Now, he heard singing. What was this glorious hymn? As he stood near an outcropping, ear turned to the sky, several of the sheep approached. One brushed his leg. He felt down and patted the thick wool of the ewe...was it Jesse? She was his favorite. The sheep nuzzled his hand and let out a frightened bleat. Other animals closed in about him, nervously baying, looking for reassurance. "David!" he called. "Where are you?" An arm drew around his shoulder and hugged him. "I am here, brother. What is it?" Ishmael's older sibling chuckled at the sight of so many of the flock crowding the younger child. "Don't you hear it? Singing!" exclaimed the boy. David looked at his brother. It was hard to make out his face in the night, but he appeared enraptured. "Ishmael! Are you having another of your waking dreams?" His brother ignored him, face turned to the night sky. He was moved deeply by this otherworldly summoning. He is born, this very night! Come praise the newborn King! In Bethlehem He is born-- a savior. Come let us adore Him! The song frightened Ishmael, yet he was also thrilled. It tugged at his very soul. "Listen, brother! The singing--so beautiful!" David took his brother by the shoulders. He smiled, a tender, brotherly smile, yet one of bemusement. Ishmael was known for his acute hearing, but often he seemed to hear what others didn't. What harm is there if he thinks he hears, when indeed there is no sound? Then, suddenly, David jerked his head up. The sheep, too, raised their heads to the star-studded sky. Rejoice, rejoice! The Son of Man is come! God sends a savior for His people! Hosanna in the Highest! Praise the newborn King! Immediately David dropped to his knees, his head in his hands. Ishmael continued standing by him, his face alive with wonder and excitement. The other shepherds had awakened and were also huddled together on the ground, some of them prostrate with fear. The singing continued, louder and more wonderful. The sky was bright. It appeared as if there were several small dancing suns above them, twisting and turning with a wondrous throbbing delight. Be not afraid, men of Galilee! Peace be with you. Tonight in Bethlehem, a savior is born! He will be called Immanuel, for God is with you! Hosanna, Hosanna! The singing of the angels was unlike anything they had experienced. It was most beautiful and awe-inspiring. Despite the admonition to "fear not", the men still trembled. Slowly, cautiously they all turned their heads to this glorious vision. And their hearts lept at the message. Just as suddenly as the angels had appeared they were gone. The heavenly choir had ceased. The sheep were all awake, but strangely silent, peaceful. Inside the stable the air was pungent. Several animals-sheep, some horses, a cow and a few chickens -- shared the cramped space. Against a stable wall lay a woman, propped up with bundled hay and cloth. Her expression was one of joy and exhaustion. Her husband was at her side, gently dabbing her face. He, too, looked very tired, but happy. The shepherds stood back, heads bowed, eyes glistening. They gazed at the tiny babe lying in the manger. The baby's father beckoned and the men came forward. Two young boys held back, but the mother looked at David and nodded. A beatific smile was on the mother's face as she held her child. The baby wriggled and an arm stretched out. David held his hand out and felt a jolt as the baby touched it. The feeling was very like he'd experienced on the hillside with the dancing, singing suns. Ishmael stood shyly at his brother's side. His sightless eyes were turned towards the family. He could sense their presence. The smells, the sounds…and something else…something powerful. Powerful, yet peaceful. He smiled as his brother hugged him. |
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The crowd was huge. Shoulder to shoulder; they jostled each other. Heads
stretched to see above and around each other. Far away, on a hillside,
was the teacher. His arms were spread wide--open and inviting. Around
him a multitude was gathered, including his disciples. He'd heard of them from some of the other villagers. So many had told of this mysterious man. Was he a prophet? That's what some had said. A prophet and a miracle worker. They told of cripples, of the sick and dying who'd been touched and healed by this man. Ishmael longed to get closer. Dare he hope it? Could a blind man really be made to see? Ishmael pressed forward, slowly making progress through the thick crowd. Often he was rebuked or shoved by others who were also trying to get closer. Sometimes he was treated with kindness when a tender soul would recognize his affliction and made what little room she could. The closer he got to the teacher the more densely packed were the people. He heard laughter, crying, men and women talking in earnest. Eventually he couldn't get nearer. He longed for a drink of water. It was a hot, dry day. "Come to me all you who thirst and I will give you living water. Drink from it and you will never be thirsty again!" Who said that? It must be the teacher, thought Ishmael. Chills ran down his spine at the sound of his voice. He experienced a strange and mystical presence. He'd felt that before, long ago, when he was just a young shepherd boy on a chilly autumn night. Jostled by the crowd that suddenly started moving forward, Ishmael slipped and fell. He coughed as the dust swirled about his face. No use, he thought. I'll just lay here a while. Eventually the crowd thinned. Ishmael sat up and put his head in his hands. He could hear the voices in the distance. Some of the people called after the disciples, hoping to get the teacher to stay. Soon the sounds faded. "Here, let me help you," said a woman. She gently lifted Ishmael up. As he got to his feet he mumbled his thanks. The stranger, a young Samaritan woman, asked him where he was from. And, could she offer him a drink? She raised a cup of cool water to his lips and he drank it down quickly. "Many thanks". "You are welcome" she replied. Then she did a strange thing. She reached up and touched his face, softly with her fingers around his eyes. Ishmael winced and pulled away. "You are blind". She said it kindly, with compassion in her gentle voice. Not accusingly like others, those who blamed his affliction on his sins, or sins of his parents. She helped Ishmael to his feet. "Come with me" she instructed. He held back, confused by this sudden charity. She took his hand, patted it, and pulled him along. "Quick. We can still catch up!" "What do you want, woman?" The tall, gruff man appeared in no mood for visitors. He was tired and cranky after the long hot day. The woman, eyes to the ground, said in a firm voice just above a whisper, "We want to see the Master". She looked up, straight into the man's eyes and repeated her request, louder and more confidently. The man scrunched his shoulders and let out a grunt. "No way. The Master has had a long day". There'd been too many sick and needy people. "Please, go away now". Ishmael tugged at the woman's arm. "Come on, it's no use. We'll try another time". "No!" She seemed almost shocked at the force of her own response. However, she held her ground. "The Master…please…this man must see". |
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"Let them come forward, Thomas". The figure had suddenly appeared
from the shadows. Thomas visibly softened, bowed and motioned for
the two to approach. "What is it?" he asked. Tired eyes. Loving eyes. Eyes that saw what others did not. "What do you want me to do for you?" The woman gently urged Ishmael forward. He haltingly stepped nearer. "I have heard that you can give a blind man sight." He swallowed hard and continued. "Rabbi, I want to see." The teacher put a hand on Ishmael's shoulder. "You say this because you have heard it. Do you believe the Son of Man can do this?" "I know that God can do this." Ishmael was sobbing through the words. He felt small and insignificant. But he could not let this opportunity pass, not if what he'd heard was true! "I have heard angels sing, Lord. Years ago, as a boy." He didn't know why he was telling him this. Jesus looked straight at the man with love. Then, he looked up, gave thanks, reached out and touched Ishmael's eyes. Tears began streaming down his face. Ishmael blinked rapidly, then wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands and beheld the man who'd healed him. Dropping to his knees, he bowed before him and gave him praise. Jesus reached down and pulled Ishmael to his feet. "Stand up. Your faith has made you whole." Ishmael embraced him. The two men hugged for a moment, then Jesus pulled back, looked at him and told him, "Go, my brother. Give thanks to your Heavenly Father. Don't tell anyone about this." He motioned to Thomas who stood nearby, eyes moist. The two turned and retreated into the darkness. The sunset glowed with amber, red and purple. The air was still. A few sheep bleated and the two young boys giggled and snuggled in the arms of the old man. He pinched their sides and they let out loud laughs. One jumped to his feet and grabbed the other and ran off down the hillside, scattering the sheep in their way. Ishmael laughed, too. Then, he put an arm to the ground and pushed up. "Here, old man, let me help you up!" Coughing, sputtering and laughing, Ishmael grabbed hold of the hand held out to him and rose with a groan. "Thank you, my friend. I may be old, but someday you might be, too. Watch how you treat your elders!" Both men smiled. Thomas looked out over the valley and at the colors painted across the horizon. "Beautiful, isn't it?" "I never thought I'd be able to see it", remarked Ishmael. He, too, looked out at the magnificent evening. "Some things you have to believe to see." Thomas let out a laugh, grinned and patted his friend's shoulder. "Yes, old man, I don't doubt it!" |
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