By Claire Hines Year 13
Samuel lay back on the grass with his hands locked behind his head with a sigh. Overhead, a court of
stars shone soundlessly. He had started to doze but was woken up abruptly as Joel thudded to a halt
before him and dropped an armful of wood at his feet with a clatter. Samuel jumped and
groaned: ‘Discreet as always Joel.’
‘Next time you can get the firewood.’ He grunted as he started to add his bundle to the dying fire.
Samuel propped himself up on one elbow and watched him silently. The hillside was full of the quiet
munching of the sheep, and the soft whistling of the warm night wind in the grass. Down the hill,
Bethlehem seemed to be settling for the evening, and the number of travelers on the road
steadily diminished. Even the lights in the inn appeared to be going out, but there was one light still
visible which puzzled Samuel. It was in the small stable at the edge of town, that they used for
lambing in the spring. It was vacant the rest of the year. Who could possibly be there tonight? Right
out by the roads with no protection, it was in a bad state of repair.
He looked up at the sound of footsteps, and saw David making his way towards them.
‘Have you seen the light in the stable?’ David asked curtly.
‘I just noticed it,’ replied Samuel, ‘what wretch would want to spend the night there?’
‘A wretch with nowhere else to go,’ grunted Joel who had just succeeded in stirring the fire back to
life. ‘Maybe some travellers who didn’t make it into town.’
‘Poor bastards,’ muttered Samuel. ‘I saw a young man leading a donkey with a young girl heavy with
child on it when I went up to Herodium this morning for the supplies. Poor girl, looked like she was
ready to have the baby right then.’
‘Curse these Romans,’ said David hotly, and he spat contemptuously.
‘They won’t be here forever,’ declared Samuel optimistically. That made Joel grunt again, but
whether in mockery or assent he wasn’t sure.
‘That may be, but when?’
There was a silence which Joel, surprisingly, broke. ‘Sometimes I think Jehovah’s forgotten all about
us.’ His companions turned to him in astonishment. ‘The Romans have been here for years, before
them it was the Persians, the Greeks… There will always be a new conqueror.’
‘But the Messiah, surely will…,’ started David, but Joel interrupted him, shaking his head.
‘We’ve waited for him long enough. He’s not coming.’
There was a shocked silence. But no one contradicted him. There were Romans marching on their
roads, building garrisons on their land, and putting down the faintest whisper of rebellion. Taxes for
Caesar, taxes for the Temple, taxes for the king. The latter being a half-crazed idiot who didn’t give a
fig for his people. Pharisees condemned their countrymen’s lack of piety from lavish townhouses
whilst outside their windows, beggars cried unheeded. Israel was a mess, and change seemed
impossible.
David looked up at the sky angrily, and that’s when he saw it. A star, slightly bigger, slightly brighter
than all the rest was there now, glittering with excitement and promise. David had studied this sky ever since he was born, his father teaching him the names of the greatest stars. Surely, he would
have noticed this one?
‘Samuel, do you see…,’ he started, but never finished, as just then a blinding white light swept away
the night. He couldn’t see, it was everywhere. Closing his eyes he called out to his companions and
fell to the ground as it weighed down on his shoulders. Then a soft voice, that seemed to come from
everywhere at once said: ‘Do not be afraid. For behold, I bring you good news of great joy, which is
for all people. For there is born today in the city of David, a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord, and this
will be a sign to you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’
Then a great wind seemed to dance all around him, faster and faster, blowing his cloak into his face,
and he heard what sounded like hundreds of voicing singing together happily: ‘Glory to God in the
Highest! And on Earth peace, goodwill toward men!’
The singing was unlike anything he’d heard before, it was too beautiful to be human. Then it
stopped, the wind ceased and all was still. David stayed on the ground trembling, his eyes clenched
for a while, before finally daring to open them. He knew he had seen something holy, something
divine. Something reserved for the great prophets, yet he, a shepherd, had seen it.
There was Samuel beside him, not lounging on his elbow anymore, and Joel kneeling with tears
glittering in his eyes. The full reality of what they had just seen slowly sunk in, and they turned to
each other in awe, the light still reflected in their faces.
Suddenly, filled with new strength he certainly hadn’t had before, David leapt to his feet. ‘Come on!
What are you waiting for? Let’s go!’
‘Go where?’ muttered Samuel.
‘To find the child the voice spoke about! The Christ! The Messiah!’
The urgency seemed to reach the others, who got to their feet.
‘What about the sheep?’
‘Leave them,’ yelled David impatiently, ‘and come on!’
He ran down the hill, the breeze hitting his face, his feet rebounding off the ground, and his heart
pounding. He knew where to go. All the way he kept repeating: ‘He’s not forgotten us; He’s not
forgotten us.’ He drew to a stumbling halt once he reached the stable, nearly crashing into the wall
as he did so. ‘Steady there lad,’ said a voice beside him. David turned in astonishment to see Joel.
‘How…did you… get here… before…’ he panted. Joel smiled his first smile in years. ‘Come on, let’s go
see Him.’
They ducked to avoided hitting their heads against the low doorway, and paused as they stepped on
the threshold. The stable was lit by the light of a single lantern, that cast a soft glow about the room.
A donkey was silently chewing straw in the furthest corner, and a girl lay under a cloak in the corner,
with a boy not much older than David himself sitting beside her. They looked up in surprise as the
strangers entered, and Joel waited for Samuel to come panting in behind them to say: ‘Peace to you.
We are the Temple shepherds. As we were watching our flock on the hill, we saw a star and a great
light unlike anything of this world. Then a voice told us to come here to see “the Saviour, who is
Christ the Lord”. Then thousands of voices sang Jehovah’s praises, and then all was quiet. So here we
are, to be the first to pay homage to the Messiah. The baby “lying in a manger”.’ The boy looked at them in surprise, but the girl, pale in the light, smiled faintly and said: ‘There He is,
as you say.’
She watched proudly as they approached the manger reverently, and went down on their knees in
prayer and praise. There was no doubt in her mind that it had not been worth it. The anger and
hatred of her family who didn’t believe her when she assured them she was pregnant with God’s
Son, the insults of the neighbours, the animosity of the other villagers, the dreadful journey here,
and the ordeal she had just gone through. But it had been worth it.
‘Bring Him to me,’ she whispered.
Joseph complied, faithful Joseph, and put her gently in her arms. She looked down at the baby
protectively and realised how frail He was. How could such a small thing save Israel? She kissed His
head softly and rocked Him as He started to wail. She whispered a soft prayer for Him as the
shepherds slipped out the door. They looked at each other and smiled. Surely there had never been
such a time as this. Seized by a sudden joy, that welled up inside of them until it threatened to burst,
they ran down the street shouting: ‘The Messiah has come! Jehovah has remembered us! Go see, go
see the Saviour!’
They laughed and shouted, waking the whole town to the news. God had provided a Saviour, for
such a time as this.
