Padre Bob

CHRISTMAS IN GARASENEA

By Bob Blackman

Copyright © 2006

It is a frigid, blustery morning, thirty-three years after Caesar Augustus’ worldwide census. I, Simeon bar Ishmael, am standing among the men who have come for the morning prayers. Only ten souls, seven Jews and three proselytes, barely a minyan, have dared to venture out of their warm homes to come and pray, but I stand in their midst proclaiming, “Today is a wonderful day! It is the anniversary the most important day in Jewish history, and of the two most important days of my life.

“You all know me. I was born in this town. My family was poor but proud, and our home was filled with love. When I was fourteen, I left Garasenea and indentured myself to Solomon bar Hamon of Bethlehem. 

"Solomon was a wise and generous man, worthy of his namesake. He taught me shepherding and I spent my early adulthood herding his sheep. By the end of my seven years of service, I had become an accomplished shepherd. I had also become a Jewish proselyte who loved Jehovah and practiced righteousness to the best of my ability.

'Simeon,' Solomon asked, when my time of service neared it’s end, ‘Why should you leave Bethlehem, the land of Jehovah, and return to Decapolas? My wife is dead and I have no sons. Stay here. Marry my daughter Rachel, and when I go to be with my fathers, all I possess I will leave to you.'

Rachel was two years younger than I, kind in disposition, a hard worker, a competent shepherdess and rich in laughter.  With gratitude, I married Rachel the Jewish shepherdess.

"On this day, thirty-three years past, the weather was cold and clear without a trace of wind. Solomon, Rachel, and I, lived together in a small home outside of Bethlehem, but on this night, we had rented our dwelling to Mathias of Bethsura, who with his three sons and their wives had journeyed to Bethlehem for the census. Solomon, Rachel, myself, and two other shepherd boys, Elias and Jacob, had set up camp in the foothills overlooking the city. All together, we had ninety-six sheep in our collective care.

"An hour after the sun had set, we were in our tents readying for bed. Solomon had the first watch. There was a sound in the camp, like the voice of a hundred carolers singing praises to Jehovah. I exited our tent and saw what appeared to be a man, dressed in white garments that glowed like the stars that pierced the night. Solomon had fallen to his knees, and the man, whom I supposed to be an angel of the Lord, commanded him to stand. The five of us were filled with fear and I mentally reviewed the previous days, in search of what act of unrighteousness might have brought the hand of God upon us. 

“In a voice both powerful and soft, the angel declared, 'be not afraid.  I come with good news, of great joy for all God's people. This day, in Bethlehem, the Messiah is born! Go. Find the child, wrapped in peasant cloth and laying in a manger.'

“We had a thousand questions, but the angel vanished as rapidly as he appeared, leaving only the sound of a heavenly choir singing, 'Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth to men of good will.'

"We stood for several minutes staring into the distance towards where the angel had pointed. Finally, Solomon's voice broke the silence, 'The three of you must go and see this thing the angel has announced.'

"'But what about our sheep?' Elias asked.

"'You go,’ Solomon said. ‘Rachel and I will stay with the sheep. There is a blessing to be had. I am old, but you are young. Go, claim Jehovah's blessing.'

"We gathered our cloaks around us and set out in the direction the angel had indicated. For two hours we walked, discussing all the while what the meaning of the message might be. 'Has the Messiah truly come? Why was it revealed to us? Was the appearing of the angel real, or merely a vision we all shared?'

“There were no answers, and as we approached Bethlehem, new questions surfaced. 'Where is this manger? How will we find one child in a city overflowing with a million visitors? And if we find him, what will we say or do?'

"We were discussing the latter question when we spied a small stable attached to an inn on the outskirts of town. Jacob said in a reverent whisper, ‘My soul tells me that this must be the place.’ As we neared the stable, I heard the soft crying of a baby. Perhaps this is the place, I thought.

"We entered and saw a tiny babe, no more than a few hours old, laying in a manger of soft hay. Beside him sat his mother, a young girl of fourteen or fifteen years, and beside her, the baby's father, who appeared no older than the mother. They shared the small enclosure with a dozen donkey's, property of the visitors who filled the inn. The parents showed no surprise at our presence. 

Even now, thirty-three years later, I recall the questions that clogged my brain. 'Can this be the Messiah? Would the Son of God be born in a courtyard surrounded by beasts? How can a child be our Messiah? Have we come to the wrong stable? Surely every stable in Bethlehem has someone sleeping in it tonight.' 

"It was the father who spoke first, 'Greetings, have you also come to spend the night in this stable? It's not much, but it is warmer and safer than outside, and there is plenty of fresh straw to share. I am Joseph, come from Jerusalem.'  He bowed towards us. 'This is Mary my wife and our newly arrived son whom we shall call Emanuel.

"'Emanuel.' I repeated staring at the child. He was just an ordinary baby, no particular comeliness of features, no radiance like that exhibited by the angel, just an ordinary baby, but they named him Emanuel, God with us. 

"Elias and Jacob knelt beside the baby. They laid their hands upon the manger and prayed a prayer over him. Jacob prayed that he would fulfill his destiny and Elias prayed that he might unite Judea and revive our land.

I knelt beside them too, but I had no words to pray. We lingered a while and Jacob told Joseph about the angel. Joseph didn‘t seem surprised. He told us, how both he and Mary had also met and angel -- perhaps the same one. We stayed at the stable a long while, until I said, 'We cannot stay any longer, we must return to Solomon and the sheep before the sun rises.'

"We bade them farewell and walked the two hours back to camp. Jacob and Elias were exuberant but I walked in silence.

Dawn was painting the sky with hues of lavender and gold when we reached the camp. I listened intently as Jacob and Elias praised Jehovah and joyfully told Solomon about our night's journey -- but I said nothing. Logic told me there was nothing special at the stable; there surely must be better explanation for the strange events that led us there? No, I thought, I will not rejoice in what I do not understand.

"A year passed. My love for Rachel grew and she gave birth to a son. We named him David. Solomon became sick with a fever, lingered a few days and died. I inherited one hundred and twenty sheep, and the small house outside of Bethlehem.

“It was a dark starless night when we heard the news. Herod had gone mad. He had ordered the death of every male child under two years old. Our David was spared only, because Rachel had joined me in the field earlier that day. Grazing was poor that year, and we were camped southwest of Bethany, a full days journey from Bethlehem. Fearing to return home I put Rachel and David on a donkey and charged my bond servant Caspian to take them first to Jericho, obtain passage across the Jordan River, and deliver them to my father in Garasenea. I would drive my herd to Jerusalem, sell it, and catch up with them before they reached Bathennabris in Peraea. I had promised Caspian that in exchange for the safe delivery of my family I would reward him with the price of ten sheep. He promised to defend them with his life.

“It took two days to deliver my herd to Jerusalem and bargain for a fair price. One day later, I was in Bethany and two days after that; I found their bodies three miles outside of Jericho. Caspian had fought valiantly to protect them, but Herod's cutthroats killed them all and left their bodies rotting beside the road where they fell. With a heart filled with bitterness I buried them, then crossed into Perea and made my way home. I spat on Judea, cursed Jehovah and vowed never again to set foot east of the Jordan River.

"I returned to Garasenea to find that my father had died three years earlier, and was buried in a potter's field. My younger brother had been indentured in Phoenicia and no one knew what had happened to my mother. Some thought she had gone to Phoenicia to find my youngest brother.

By Garasene standards, I was rich, but it didn't matter. I had nothing worth living for.  

"Seemingly, over-night this happy, prosperous, husband, father, and god-fearing shepherd had died. Even now, I cannot explain, or understand what happened. In my anger I cursed Jehovah a hundred times a day, and with every curse a part of my old self died. With every curse a new, demonic self emerged.

“I squandered my wealth on wine to kill the emotional pain that consumed me. I became increasingly paranoid and untrusting until my frustration became an uncontrollable rage. One morning, I awoke and found myself imprisoned. Two men had been talking quietly on the street and in my paranoia I decided they were plotting against me. I drew my dagger and attacked them, severely cutting one before the other subdued me. That was the first of many imprisonments.

“In the beginning, I was able to purchase my freedom, but eventually, every bit of my wealth was depleted. As my rage increased, so did my strength. The people of Garasenea feared me, and I feared them, believing everyone was seeking to kill me. 

“When I could no longer control my rage I took up residence in the potter's field outside of town. I would sit among the graves overlooking the Jordan River and find temporary peace talking to my father, but when night fell, my demons would overpower my will and I would lose control. I tried chaining myself to the tombstones so I could not hurt myself, or others, but when my demons awoke, the rage within manifested itself in supernatural strength. I upturned the stones and broke the chains. I screamed, cursed God and man, I cut myself with sharp stones and threw myself into the fire. My torment would last deep into the night until I passed-out from either pain or exhaustion.

“It was after one such night that, two years ago today, exactly thirty-one years after I saw the angel, that I found myself sitting naked in the dirt, shivering in the early morning chill. A fishing boat had landed on the shore, not a hundred yards from me. And man stepped from the boat. Though I don’t know how, I recognized him immediately. It was that baby, the one they called Emanuel, the one whose birth had caused my son David to be murdered.

“I ran at him, cursing and screaming, but found myself on my knees before him crying, ‘Depart from here, Son of Jehovah, torment me no more! What have you to do with me?’

“‘What is your name?’ the man asked, and I found myself saying, ‘We are Legion,’ and I begged for him not to send us to the abyss.

On a ridge overlooking the shore, I saw two men with a herd of swine. ‘Send us into the hogs,’ I cried.

“‘Go.’ He said. Suddenly, the swine, over two hundred of them, ran down into the sea and drowned -- while I knelt on the beach and wept.

“The herdsmen, who had obviously heard all that was said, fled toward the town and returned with an angry mob who first demanded, and then begged the man, who now called himself Jesus, to leave their country before some greater catastrophe destroy their livelihood.

I begged Jesus to take me with him, but he refused saying, ‘Go home, and tell your neighbors what God has done for you.’”

Now, every year I come to the synagogue and tell any who will hear, that on this day, thirty-three years ago, I saw Jesus the promised Messiah, born in Bethlehem, and two years ago, on this very day, that same Jesus touched my heart, healed my spirit, and made me whole.  Halleluiah, the Messiah of the Jews and Savior of the world has come!

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