An Imaginative Retelling of the Christmas Story
Narrated by Gabriel, Joseph and Mary, Elizabeth, and the Innkeeper’s Wife
Installments are in reverse order; the latest to be posted is first on this page. To read earlier portions of the story, scroll down and also click on “Older posts” at the bottom of the page. To read a specific section, click on its title in the column at the right. To read all sections, enter the words Christmas story in the search box at the upper left and click on Search Blog.
JOSEPH Meets the Visitors from the East
Of all those who met us on the street or came to visit us, the most unusual were the wise men from the East. Speaking through the interpreter who was part of their company, they told us their story. They were students of the heavens and had seen in the skies a star that signaled the birth of the world’s awaited Messiah—our child, God’s son. For many long months, they had traveled with the brilliant new star guiding them, until at last they reached Jerusalem, only a few miles from where we lived. Stopping in the City, they inquired of the citizens where they could find the one who had been born “king of the Jews,” and were quite surprised at the stir this created among the people.
Herod, proclaimed by the Roman government as reigning king over the Jews, seemed troubled when he learned of the travelers’ quest. He asked discreetly of the eastern visitors when they had first seen the beacon star. They calculated their preparation time and the months they had been traveling across the desert, and answered him, “Nearly two years ago.”
“Go and search carefully,” Herod told them. “When you have found the young child, bring back word to me. I want to come and worship him also.”
Again the star guided the men from the East, this time in a miraculous southerly direction, until it stopped—although we didn’t know it—directly over our house! That is when we heard a loud calling outside, and then a knock at the door. I answered and led three men into our home. We often had visitors—that was not a surprise—but we were not prepared for the reaction of these guests to Jesus.
Their weariness was evident, but they gazed for a long time at the little boy sitting on Mary’s lap. Tears began to course down their cheeks, making pale tracks in the travel stains there. And then, one by one, they fell to their knees, bending their foreheads to the ground, worshipping the child!
We were speechless. This was unlike any other response we had seen. The shepherds who came to the cave the night Jesus was born were beside themselves with joy. What their welcome lacked in refinement was more than compensated for by their noisy exuberance! They were just so very glad to welcome the Savior, so pleased to have been chosen to receive the angels’ announcement.
Simon at the Temple had held the baby and said softly, “Now I am ready to depart from this life in peace. God told me I would first see Israel’s consolation, her light of revelation. You are worthy, Lord God, of praise. You have kept your Word!”
Mary had pondered these responses of glad acceptance and quiet surrender. She had a lot to think about, she told me, deep inside her heart. I too had to marvel at the reaction of those who met the infant. But now we were truly awed by these men who bowed before him in acknowledgment, not only of what He would become but also of who he already was.
I think we remembered to thank the men for their gifts—I’m not sure. We were struck dumb by their offerings. Opening up the baggage, the oldest of the men, the one who seemed to be spokesman for the group, explained, “We have brought some things in remembrance of this occasion and to honor your son. Here, sir,” he said to me as he lifted out a coffer made of gold. Raising the lid, he gave me a glimpse of the pile of gold coins held within. “I want you to take this for the child,” he said.
“Of course,” I answered. “I’ll gladly keep it for him. One day, he’ll understand the value of a gold coin and then it will be his own.” And I, who never in my life had had more than two gold coins to rub together, held out my hand to receive one for my son.
The aging man shook his head. “No, you are to take the whole box,” he insisted, pressing it into both of my hands.
I was astonished at the weight of all this wealth suddenly thrust upon me, and I opened my mouth to protest. But the man continued, “Yes, you’re right. It is indeed worth a great deal. And by the time your son knows the value of a gold coin, he won’t really need it.” He smiled at my confusion. “I brought it mostly as a reminder to myself that there are some things far more valuable than gold.”
The man with dark skin brought from his belongings a small censer that I immediately recognized as an incense container although it was more beautiful—and probably far more costly—than any I had ever seen. The visitor opened the jar, and the fresh, sweet fragrance of the little “tears” wept from the bark of a resinous tree filled the room.
“You must take this,” he said, turning to Mary. “You understand what it means to be away from home. Your son too will know what it’s like to be a foreigner, a minority. Wherever you are, then, you must be sure to make an altar. Don’t sell this incense. Use it—for the altar is where your heart will find its home.”
(To be continued)
MaryMartha
(All rights reserved)
Email: mrymrtha@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment