William Theron Yates
My name is Benjamin. I am a shepherd. Not that I ever wanted to be a shepherd, but that's what I was doing at the time. It didn't pay much, but it's all I could find to bring in money for food. And drink.
I hated the work. Working for some fat sheep owner, sitting in his warm house with his warm wife while I sat out in the wind and rain and cold watching the sheep. Sheep are the dumbest creatures on Earth. Leave them alone and they'll all wander away and get themselves killed in a minute. And the chief shepherd, Judah, is a real pain. Always telling me what to do, "Go get that lamb!", "Keep them together!", "Come on, get moving!" What makes him so important?
We were watching the sheep on a hill outside of Bethlehem. Judah was yakking away with some of the others. The night was black. As black as the cavern of my heart.
Then came the light!
It slammed me to the ground like the hand of God. It was bright as noon where we stood but still black all around us. I could see nothing but the blackness of my heart. I tried to hide beneath my cloak, bury myself in the ground. I felt a rush of shame engulfing me.
And then he spoke. He looked like a man, but somehow, not a man. He was just there, like the light. His voice was powerful but gentle; it penetrated me.
"Don't be afraid!" he said. And suddenly I wasn't. At least not like the moment before.
"Listen! I bring you the most wonderful news, news that will bring great joy to all people everywhere! Today, in the city of David, a Savior is born! He is Christ, the Lord‹the Messiah! And this is how you will know Him when you find Him: you will find a baby, wrapped in swaddling cloths, and lying in a manger."
The Messiah? The Promised One? Here? Now? I was having trouble getting my mind around this news when there were thousands of... angels, I guess... singing the most joyful and glorious music I have ever heard.
"Glory to God in the Highest!"
"And peace on Earth to men with whom He is well pleased!"
And then they were gone. It was dark again. We gaped at each other, then started talking all at once. I wasn't dreaming, the others saw and heard it, too. Judah said, "Come! Let's go find the baby!" And we turned toward Bethlehem and began to run.
We quickly slowed to a fast walk after I demonstrated the folly of running on rocky ground in the dark of night. After I picked myself up, wincing from the bruising I received from the hard stones, we proceeded. I almost pointed out to Judah that he had left the sheep‹a violation of his own primary rule! But it didn't seem so important any more.
Soon we came to the town. Somehow we seemed to know where to go. We found the stable, a rude shelter with one old donkey loosely tethered inside. To the side a young woman sat on the ground, leaning against a manger. A man who had been seated on the ground next to the woman rose as we approached. He did not seem surprised that we were there. Judah came a little closer and the man moved as if to say, "That's far enough." Judah knelt down on his knees and tears began to well up in his eyes. He whispered "Hallelujah!" over and over to himself. I simply stared at the baby. The angel had said we would find a baby, and we did. But he seemed so small! So tiny and helpless! This was the Messiah?
I thought and thought about it. It's not every day an angel speaks to you. And the light! And the thousands of singing angels! That is hard to ignore. This must be the Messiah. But what does it mean? The Messiah, the Anointed One, the Son of David. The names and phrases came back to me from my spotty attendance and attention as a boy in the synagogue. He would save his people‹us. When and how were beyond my ability to think about. But I had to admit I was pleased. More than pleased, I felt a joy I had rarely known in my life. I knew my blackness was still within, but it seemed less like a looming darkness than a stain which might be erased somehow. I knelt beside Judah.
We left after a little while, more to give the young mother some rest than because we wanted to. We began talking among ourselves with growing animation and intensity, a moving source of noise in the quiet night. Occasionally we came across someone out in the streets at night. We would immediately accost them with the joyous news of the Messiah's birth, the angels, and everything. Most though we were drunk. Or crazy. We were roundly cursed on more than one occasion. But some listened to us. And a wondering smile would grow on their faces and they would leave with a lighter step.
It's been over thirty years since that dark night. I am still a shepherd, now a chief shepherd. I heard one day of a man called Jesus of Nazareth and his remarkable teachings. I went one day to hear him, along with thousands of others. His words were penetrating and moved me deeply. And he healed people! After he was done, as I was leaving, I happened to pass near him. He looked at me as if he had seen a long-lost friend, smiled, and clapped me on the shoulder. "Benjamin! It's been a long, long time! I'm glad you came today!" I stood there like a fool, not knowing what to say. And then he moved on to others.
I was shocked and heart-broken at what they did to him. I wept when I heard he had been crucified. I moved about my business without any energy or feeling for the next few days. And then one of his friends told me he was alive! Now this was more unbelievable than angels! I was very skeptical until one day I joined with a few hundred of his friends who had gathered to remember him and discuss the latest happenings when I realized with a start that he was there! Alive! I fell to my knees and cried "Hallelujah!" over and over to myself. The darkness which had ebbed and flowed in me all my life seemed to shrivel to a tiny spot and I was filled with the same feeling I felt at that manger. Joy!
For years I told the story of the appearance of the Angels. Often, I am ashamed to say, with pride. But now I tell it with humility that the first to be told from Heaven of the Messiah's birth was Benjamin, the shepherd, a miserable sinner. In the years since, in happiness and sorrow, in pleasure and pain, the joy of that word from God has sustained me. And as you remember this tale, may you experience that same joy.
© 2000 by William Theron Yates. All rights reserved.
