A Christmas Story

A Christmas Story (part fiction, part fact, enjoy):

The King was furious. When he was upset the whole of the city was in fear of what would come next. Rumours had run through the streets like wildfire that wise men were visiting our sovereign, seeking information. Some said they were kings. Some said they were astronomers. Others did not care, they just welcomed the extra business feeding the people and animals who were in their extravagant caravan. They were definitely from the east though, from outside the borders of the Roman empire, the unconquered ones. Jerusalem sat at the Empire’s most easterly point. These so called wise men were not that wise to come and seek an audience with Herod. Not in my opinion. He would sooner have them killed than grant any request. His insecurities knew no limits. Even his own family had at died at the sword to protect his throne. He would even dress as a peasant and sit in the market place listening to people talk; if there was a whiff of treason, they would be whisked off to jail, tried and executed. When the king was nervy, everyone was on edge.

That’s when the call came, we had been summoned. We were the brightest and the best. Knowledgable about the Jewish people’s traditions and laws. Whatever these visitors sought was supposedly in our collective knowledge base. 

It was all a sham though and we knew it. Herod had despised the traditions of the locals and, along with Rome’s assent, had appointed his own advisers from the Jewish community, ignoring the rights of succession. Ignoring the appointment of Yahweh’s chosen High Priest. Herod himself was an installation of our oppressors. But we did not complain. We had a good life. We carried out the religious rituals as required by the Torah, Herod tolerated us, and we were well-fed and lived in luxury. 

Life in main was good for us. Until Herod summoned us. Until Herod was angry. He had ordered the execution of one of our number when he spoke up a while back because the advice given was contrary to the despot’s liking.

Entering the throne room, there was Herod, underdressed compared to the lavish opulence of the rulers before him. They looked resplendent in the finest of Persian silks. Herod looked thunderous, unnerved by something. But he wanted something from us. We huddled to one side of his throne, bowing and scraping before our Rome imposed monarch. I stood at the back. I was still a recent recruit. Those more senior heard the king’s request and the question was relayed back to me: Where is the Jewish Messiah, the Christ child, to be born? 

I felt sick. It had only been eighteen months since the king had heard rumours circulating of shepherds saying that the Messiah had been born. There was no evidence to back this up and after a few days, Herod had appeased himself with women and wine. 

I felt sick because I knew the answer! I had been studying this very prophecy that week. I remained silent. The more senior in our group were it debating amongst themselves. 

“Well?” barked the impatient king.

“You’re highness,” replied our chief spokesperson soothingly, “such a question demands a proper response, a consensus must be reached.”

The king was displeased. One of us was for the executioners blade if we were not careful.

“We have seen his star,” one of the wise men interjected, trying to nudge us in the right direction. They had no knowledge of our sacred texts, but they seemed to understand the celestial occurrence overhead was part of Yahweh’s plan. Maybe they had their own prophecies? The people of Jerusalem had all seen it too. Not the rising sun, too close. Not the moon, too bright. Visible day and night, people had watched it grow larger, moving nearer. Now it seemed to have stopped, just south of us, thousands of feet in the air. Most people ignored it now, it had become a familiar sight in the skies. I hadn’t though, I looked at it every day and pondered its meaning. The others called me a dreamer, but deep down, I wanted a new tomorrow.

With trepidation, I raised my hand. My elders scowled at me. The king noticed and beckoned me forward. There I was, suddenly front and centre, chief priests and law teachers to my right, rulers from the east to my left, Herod in front of me. 

“Well, what is the answer?”

I swallowed hard against the bile in my throat and spoke as boldly and respectfully as I could, but I still sounded squeaky: “In Bethlehem in Judea, for this is what the prophet has written:“‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for out of you will come a ruler who will shepherd my people Israel.’”

With a wave of his hand he dismissed us to have a covert meeting with the visitors. My colleagues were cross with me for speaking out of turn. Secretly they were glad that I had, for if Herod flew into a rage, I would have been his target.

We never heard from those wise men again. The story went that an angel redirected them away from Herod on their return journey. The star in the sky vanished the same night. A few days layer Herod ordered all toddlers and newborns to be killed in Bethlehem. It was a blood bath. It became know as the ‘Slaughter of the Innocents.’ A terrible, terrible day. I could not help but feel somehow responsible. I had supplied the rogue king with what he needed. I prayed the Messiah escaped.

The night those wise men came I lay awake. I wondered what I should be doing with what I knew: the Saviour was born and kings were paying homage to Him. Perhaps I should have gone too? Maybe I should have snuck away unnoticed and sought him out under the guiding light of the bright star. It seemed that these wise ones, as they stood before Herod, were not wise because of what they knew, but because of what they chose to do with that knowledge. What I would I choose to do with what I knew about Jesus? I fell asleep, the question on my mind my last thought that day. Tomorrow would the thought be forgotten? Would He, be forgotten? 

I originally shared this in our supporters newsletter. To sign up visit www.kandbinsa.com