What the Shepherds Saw

And they came with haste

and found Mary and Joseph,

and the Babe lying in a manger.

Luke 2:16-17, NKJV

I can't wait to get to heaven, for lots of different reasons.  But one thing I am really looking forward to is seeing the replay of Bible events and comparing them to the way my technicolor imagination envisioned them.  Personally, I think I could give Cecil B. DeMille a run for his money.  At any rate, these Bible stories have come alive in my mind, and I like retelling them in surprising ways.  Especially the story of Jesus.  I've seen lots of Jesus films, and I still haven't seen one that I really Really REALLY think got it right.  But this is my story, so I'm sticking to it...

The glorious light of the angelic appearance had barely faded from the night sky, and the final notes of the heavenly chorus might still have been lingering on the Bethlehem hillside, when one of the shepherds jumped up and said, "Let's go!"  And in one accord, they all scrambled to the feet and dashed toward town.  Now the sign they were looking for was a baby in a manger, so how did they find him?  Did they peek into every barn along the route until they found the right one?  If Jesus was born in a barn, and there was no other Divine direction given them, that is exactly what they would have had to do.  On the other hand, what if the manger was something so out of place and extraordinary that the shepherds would have no trouble finding it.

What if the shepherds knew that the "manger" they were looking for was not a common feeding trough, but rather a portable bread basket widely used among their people at this particular time of year?  In two week's time, the entire countryside would be flooded with pilgrims arriving in Jerusalem for the Feast of Tabernacles, and makeshift shelters constructed from tree branches would be thrown up all over the place, each one with it's own "manger"...not for holding hay for cattle and donkeys, but rather for keeping the family's supply of food up off the ground.  But finding such a manger on the night Jesus was born would have been a little unexpected.  Kind of like passing an American household on Halloween and finding the Christmas lights already strung and the plastic glowing Santa Claus already enthroned on the lawn.  Unusual.

As they ran toward town, perhaps they noticed the soft glow of firelight where there should have been none.  These shepherds knew the Bethlehem Hill Country like they knew the backs of their own hands.  They knew ever pasture, every cliff, every cave.  They knew who owned them, and who used them.  And on this particular night, they knew that no shepherds were using that particular grotto.  Even more peculiar might have been the sight of a hastily constructed booth built to shield the concave interior from the summer night and any casual passersby.  Who would care about being seen in such a place?  Who would want their privacy?

How about a young couple weary from travel, the wife heavy with child and ready to deliver, who had arrived at their family's home to find that no place would be made for them there?  The extended family was embarrassed by the knowledge that the young bride had conceived the child out of wedlock, and that the young groom had taken her early as his wife and claimed the child as his own, but everyone knew the truth.  That child was the illegitimate offspring of the girl's shameful dalliance with a Samaritan while she was traveling to visit relatives.  And the proper Judean relatives were not going to let shame overshadow their holidays.  These two troublesome teens could celebrate the holidays elsewhere.

And as the shepherds drew closer to the shelter built against the hillside, they heard a sound out of place in a sheep field.  From behind the screen of woven tree branches came the hearty cry of a newborn, the hurried rustlings of new parents trying to figure out how to quiet the child, and then the cooings of a mother who instinctively knew what to do.  Slowly the lead shepherd creeps within inches of the cave and whispers his hello.

The young father appears, his face stretched with cares no one could understand.  And the shepherd tells his story.  The angel.  The message.  The heavenly choir.  The light.  The song.  The command to go and find a newborn babe packed snugly in a bread box.  "Please, sir.  Can we have a peek?"

And Joseph stepped aside, waved the shepherds through the entrance, and one by one they fall to their knees around the pallet of the tiny young mother and, within easy reach, a tiny infant tightly swaddled for his own good, nestled neatly in the little crib.  This is what they came to see, and I don't think he was that hard to find after all.