It
was a busy time of year. Marcus and the other shepherds had returned to herding
sheep now that the weather was more predictable. It wasn’t an easy life. It
wasn’t the labor that was hard – even a child could learn to corral sheep and
build simple stone walls. What was so hard was the loneliness. When it was time
to herd sheep, the shepherds left their families and their friends for weeks,
sometimes months at a time. Emotionally it could be draining. Sure, there were
other shepherds … but Marcus often didn’t see them until the evening, when it
was time to rest the sheep.
Ahh.
The nighttime. Marcus was used to it by now, but he first started keeping watch
of his family’s sheep, the nighttime is what he feared the most – uncertainty,
fear; it’s so unpredictable. Have you ever been afraid of the night? Not this kind of night; it’s beautiful
tonight. The kind of night a shepherd might face … when his heart is filled
with fear, knowing that an attack of a single wild animal could wreck havoc on
an entire flock of sheep, killing some, freeing others. Marcus knew that he and
his staff were the only things between chaos and order. It was a burden he
feared. He learned to sleep with one eye open, and both ears listening for
unusual noises. Throughout the night – almost unconsciously – he slapped a rock
with his staff to scare off would-be intruders.
You
don’t get much sleep as a shepherd. Sleepless nights. You know about sleepless
nights ….
But
Marcus love the great outdoors. Shepherding was his life, and he enjoyed it,
certainly. The men of his family had always been nomadic shepherds. It’s what
he knew. But late at night, eyes wide opened, he wondered if there was
something more.
Marcus
knew what the others thought of shepherds. Dirty, shifty. Walking through town
he knew what folks were doing – guarding their possessions so that he wouldn’t
have any chance to steel them. To so many, that’s what shepherds were – thieves
and bandits. You couldn’t trust ‘em as far as you could throw ‘em.
Marcus
knew he was different. He had bigger plans, bigger ideas. But his plans and
ideas didn’t seem to matter much to the town folk. He was a shepherd. And that
didn’t amount to much at all. It’s hard to break free from someone’s preconceived
notions.
Except
that, lately, Marcus had been shepherding in the fields outside of Bethlehem.
It
was a choice job. The pay was a little better, and the shepherds – the good
ones, at least – felt that they were contributing something to the good of
others. For the fields outside of Bethlehem were used to raise sheep for the
Temple in Jerusalem, just ten miles away. Every day sheep would be sacrificed
in the Temple, and now that the spring Passover was near, more and more
sacrifices were being offered – which meant that more and more sheep were
needed.
It
was a busy time.
Marcus
liked being busy. He liked the extra responsibility. He liked the idea that his
sheep would become a choice offering to God. It made him feel good. Made him
feel a sense of purpose … and everybody wants some kind of purpose in their
lives.
But
he was tired. Exhausted, really. Too tired to sleep – a million things running
through his mind.
One
particularly tiring night, Marcus lay in front of the gate where he had corralled
his sheep. The sky was clear and pitch black. He heard the noises of the night.
The roar of a cat. The low growl of a mountain lion. Marcus was used to the
sounds --- he had heard them all of his life – but tonight they made him uneasy.
He moved to the inside of the gate. One of the ewes lay down beside him,
providing an extra layer of warmth. He looked to the heavens and marveled at
the stars. They were brilliant. He began to think again of his future.
Then
there was rustling. Marcus jumped to his feet and quickly he scanned the
perimeter of the sheep fold. Nothing. But there it was again. The sound of
someone walking. He cried out, “Andrew, is that you?” “Benjamin, are you
there?” No response. Then he turned, and there in the middle of his fold,
surrounded by Marcus’s sheep, was a man dressed in the clothes of a shepherd.
Was he a thief?
“What
are you doing here?” Marcus yelled, projecting both strength and fear in his
voice. “Where did you come from?”
“Do
not be afraid, Marcus,” the man said with a gentle, calm voice. “For I bring
you good tidings of great joy. For to you, Marcus, to you is born this day in
the city of David a Savior who is Christ the Lord.”
Marcus’
jaw dropped. “What’s going on here,” he thought. “Is this a trick?” The
stranger looked to the skies … and so did Marcus. And before his very eyes, the stars turned into flashes of
brilliant light, brightening up the deep, dark sky.
The
stars seemed to dance until they converged together into a single, marvelous
display. And then he heard a sound unlike any sound he had ever heard in his
life. A chorus, whose words were crystal clear: Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace to all the earth.
The
chorus lasted for what seemed to be an eternity. He never wanted it to end. The
beauty was indescribable. But soon the stars ceased their dancing, and the music
drifted into the night. Marcus looked to the man who remained there in his
fold, among the sheep, some of which had fallen fast asleep. “Marcus,” he said,
“to you is born this day a Savior. To you, Marcus, and to all who live in deep
darkness, a Savior is born. The Christ. The King.” Marcus looked to heaven
again, then back to the man. But he was gone. There was no trace of his
presence. He simply disappeared into the night.
Marcus
found himself in a daze. Was this a dream? Am I going crazy? But from across
the fields walked the other shepherds, Andrew and Benjamin. Silently they
approached Marcus, the same look of fear and awe upon their faces. The three
shared the exact same story. As if it were part of a carefully crafted script,
they herded their sheep into a common fold, and asked one of the young boys to
keep watch while the three made their way to Bethlehem. They didn’t need
directions. Instinct guided them to a shepherd’s cave on the outskirts of town.
Inside lay a tiny baby, cuddled in the arms of his mother.
The
words were still ringing in Marcus’s ears: “To you, Marcus, is born a Savior
who is Christ. The King.”
The
young shepherd’s heart was filled with more joy than he had ever imagined. He
returned to his fold, ran to the place where the angel had stood. He knelt down
while the sheep crowded in. Some fell asleep at his feet. Others watched the
young man cry tears of joy. For he knew that his life had been changed forever.
But
Marcus’ story doesn’t end there. Many years later, Marcus was again tending
sheep in the fields of Bethlehem, carefully and prayerfully raising them up for
the ritual sacrifice. It was his duty, yes. But it had become his purpose … his
honor.
One
Friday, early afternoon, the skies turned a frightening shade of black. Rain
scorched the earth, thunder roared from above, the flash of lightening pierced
the dark. The sheep were so afraid, bleating and running to one another.
Another
shepherd appeared. “The Romans are executing again,” he said. “Who is it?”
Marcus asked. “It’s that man some people
call teacher. I’ve heard others call him Lord. It was a matter of time before
Pilate had had enough. Those crazy prophets.”
A
flash of lightening. And then Marcus saw again what had frightened him so many
years ago. A man, there in the middle of his fold, kneeling, the sheep gathered
all around. They were suddenly and mysteriously comforted despite the rain,
despite the crash of thunder.
The
man looked up at Marcus. “Do not be afraid,” he said, a look of profound calm
on his face.
“Who
are you?” Marcus asked, although deep within, he knew.
“I
am the way, the truth, and the life,” he said.
Then
Marcus, too, fell to his knees and gave praise to the great Lamb of God, born
that night long ago near the shepherd’s fields of Bethlehem, and sacrificed
that day for him … and for all people.
_____________
Rhodes Woolly 2007
