I woke up suddenly, not realizing I had dozed off. I had finished helping a lamb who was reluctant to enter the world, and it had not been my first of the evening. Did I hear my name? “Joshua!” There it was again. Now fully awake, I looked down in the valley and saw my friend, Gerson. “Come on up!” I yelled back to him. Gerson loved to talk and laugh, and I wondered how long he would handle the shepherding life if he ever decided to join me. Being a shepherd entailed long and lonely hours, with no one to talk to but the smelly, four-legged, furry animals that were so stupid they would surely starve without our help. Most of those conversations were rather lopsided. At least they provided a living for me, and I enjoyed the sense of freedom that the hills gave me.
Gerson climbed up to my perch, where I had a clear view of the entire valley, grinning the whole time. He arrived a little out of breath, and dropped onto my blanket. His beaming face was framed by his dark curly hair, which covered his slightly large ears. “Have you heard?” he asked. Thus began an hour of non-stop village gossip. Gerson could talk more than any yenta in all of Bethlehem, and after awhile his babbling blurred with the occasional baaing sound from my sheep. I shared my bread and cheese with him as we continued to share the news in town. I didn’t go into town very often. Most people there only wanted to see me when they wanted to buy a sheep. We shepherds tended to smell like our sheep, and we weren’t very well educated since we spent so much time in the fields. The townsfolk tended to make me feel stupid and ugly. But I knew things they would never know, like how to take down a wild animal with a slingshot, or the how to tell when a ewe was about to lamb by her sound, or how the best routes from one pasture to another. The rabbi would probably get lost and die in the wilderness! I would wager that not a single town merchant would know how to find a lost sheep and rescue it safely from the ravines in our valley. My sheep knew me and followed me, and I would venture that was more than they could say of their children!
And then there were the ugly centurions. The soldiers and other Romans never tired of making our lives miserable. As shepherds, we were targets for much derision, even more so than the townsmen. I was only one of many – shepherds and townspeople alike – who eagerly awaited the day that the savior described in the Torah would rise up and rid us of the scourge that was Rome. It was a popular topic among the Jews, though we were careful when speaking of it. One could never be sure if spies were nearby, ready to turn us over the Romans. Gerson was one of the few townsfolk who enjoyed spending time with us, maybe because we were so happy to have something to listen to besides our sheep, and because there were no Roman soldiers in our pastures – usually.
Gerson was particularly animated this evening. With the decree from Caesar Augustus, Jews from all over Israel had come to Bethlehem for the census. There was much to talk about, and Gerson intended to talk about all of it! His teeth flashed in the moonlight as he talked, and his arms flailed the air when he described some of the newcomers in town. As much as I liked to hear Gerson talk, after a while I wished he would stop. And then he did!
There was a tremendously bright light that filled the valley. Brighter than the sun, it wasn’t hot. Its brilliance blinded me and I threw up my arm to shield my eyes. I wanted to run but was rooted to the ground like the trees behind me. Gerson, however, did run and hid behind the nearest tree, though I could hear him fall twice on the way. Strangely enough, the sheep were not afraid, though they made not a sound. I expected them to run, but they continued to calmly chew their cud and settled into the grass. Gradually, I could make out a large figure in the midst of the radiance.
“Fear not,” a voice said. It was not a loud booming voice as I would have expected, but more like a voice inside my head, speaking as if with friends over a meal. Instantly, I felt less afraid. “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy that shall be to all the people: for this day is born to you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord, in the city of David.” Gerson was at my elbow, no longer trembling, and nudged me. “Could this be?” he asked, “Is it true? Has our suffering ended? Are Scriptures to be fulfilled?” “Shush,” I replied, though the same thoughts filled my mind. The voice continued, “And this shall be a sign unto you. You shall find the infant wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger.” Suddenly the skies were filled with angels and the most beautiful music filled my soul. The music touched my heart, and I had faith in the message of the angels. I would have believed it a dream, were it not for Gerson at my side, bruising my arm with his grip. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, the angels disappeared, and with them the heavenly music.
Still transfixed and staring at the sky, I gradually became more aware of my surroundings. Was this my arm? Was this my cloak? Was I still in my pasture? I pried Gerson’s hand from my arm and sat him down on the ground while I collected my thoughts. “The infant,” he said quietly, “we must find this infant.” He stood up and grabbing my arm again, began dragging me down the hill and to the road into town. “I shall be black and blue before this night is over!” I thought, as we tripped on the rocks and tumbled at the bottom in a heap. As we approached the town, we were joined by other shepherds. “Did you see? Did you hear?” I heard repeatedly, as newcomers joined our growing group. “Where is this infant, our Savior?” I asked. “I don’t know, the angel did not say,” came reply after reply. We began knocking frantically on doors, asking about newborns and saviors. This did not endear us to the innkeepers or townsfolk, and we had to avoid more than one Roman soldier as we searched eagerly for the babe that the angels had announced. Some of the townsfolk joined us in the streets, eager for some excitement and entertainment. Finally, I heard a voice crying “Over here! I have found the babe!” A small stampede of shepherds rushed to the voice, and we found what we were looking for.
A woman, beautiful and glowing in her new motherhood, with her very capable husband, was in a stable with the newborn babe. The husband had in his hand some kind of sharp instrument, and tried to block our path. We had obviously surprised and frightened him, and we paused, not knowing what to do. The new mother looked at us for a moment, and said something quietly to her husband. He looked at her with questioningly eyes, and she smiled and nodded. He stepped aside, but his look let us know that he would be watching us, and we should be on our best behavior.
We approached the new family, a few at a time, until we were gathered at the manger where the resourceful parents had made a bed for the baby. Wrapped in swaddling clothes, the boy looked back at us with amazing calm. The mother smiled gently and tenderly, and my heart melted. Gerson, ever willing to talk, described the angelic event to her, and to my surprise, she seemed to believe him. I was concerned, however. Our savior, born in a stable with animals? Was this truly the right child, the right place? I was reminded of David, the youngest and a shepherd, whom God had turned into a great king. As I gazed at the infant, I realized that He could make anything of anyone He chose. “Praise the Lord,” I whispered. “Praise the Lord,” she replied. We began to back away from the stable as others made their way forward to pay homage. We made our way back to our beloved valleys and hills. “Praise G-d!” we shouted, “Praise to the Almighty!” We did not know the exact time of our deliverance, but we had seen the one who would save us! We took this knowledge with us back to our sheep, and not one of us would sleep that night, that wonderful, holy night!