Christmas Eve

Gospel: Lk 1:67-79

Take a deep breath, and let the story seep into your bones:

Close your eyes and imagine a bitterly cold, pitch black night, high on a hill, perched above a tiny town named Bethlehem.  My name is Ishmael, and I am the smallest sheepherder in my family.  My brothers are clustered around the campfire in their clean and warm clothes.  I am the youngest, so I sleep with our sheep.  I am covered with the same trail dust that they are, and I smell from running with them all day.  The townspeople bully me; because I smell, my clothes are dirty, and I am a sheepherder.  But my sheep know me as one of them, and we snuggle together to stay warm, as they bleat good night to each other.

Slowly, the brightest Star I have seen rises from the East.  My brothers say the townspeople believe it is a sign of a newborn King; and it points to his birthplace.  They are discussing if we should follow its Light. They decide we should take a gift to this new King.  I put our littlest baby lamb on my shoulders and we walk towards town.  The Star guides us to a cave just outside of town.  As we approach, a soft glow shines from the cave.  We hear a rhythmic sound from the throats of the donkeys braying, the cows mooing, the sheep bleating, and the chickens cackling as we enter.  The Lady glows softly as her husband stand behind her protectively.  She beckons us to come closer.  The glow from the Infant she holds is brighter than hers.  She tells my brothers that He is named Jesus, and He is the Messiah

My brothers are excited that He will be a great King and free us from Herod.  They move away, and I shyly stay behind with the lamb.  Slowly a little hand lifts up, and tiny fingers beckon me forward.  I move closer, sit the lamb down near the Lady’s feet, and it snuggles closer to them.  The Infant, now glowing brightly, opens His hand.  I kneel and place my fingers in His palm.  As He closes his fingers around mine, I begin to feel the deepest shalom I have ever felt, moving throughout my whole body.  His deep, dark eyes draw us closer.  I feel holy, like my mother described before she died. I feel welcomed as I am, I feel loved, and I feel like a small part of the whole world.  Tears roll down my face in awe and wonder.  His Eyes seem to understand all of this as we hold our sacred gaze.

Quickly my brothers say we must get back to the flock before dawn breaks.  They drag me from the cave, my hand still reaching back and yearning for His Holy Touch.  Years from now I will reflect that my Savior reached for my hand, and healed the dirty, orphaned, bullied, “other” shepherd boy that the town shunned.  I will stand with His followers in a home church. I will lead them in prayer, so that the whole world will know He is our Savior and God.  My name is Ishmael.  My bullies are silenced.  AMIN.

 Donna Zuroweste, OP, rBCC, is a chaplain based in St. Louis.