WHO AM I?
I am Gallius. My friends Huckle, Muckle
and I are on our way to Bethlehem to sell our sheep to pay our taxes. Tonight
we will sleep outside, near our flock as we do most every night. I am the
steady force among we three. The seasoned and reasonable one. I’m the one who
made the plan for us to be out tonight. A beautiful night. Clear, star-filled,
with the constellation of Aries, the Ram, overhead and protecting us.
Muckle
is my hot-headed, fat-boy, low rider friend. Muckle wears his pants down low,
around his butt, beneath his tunic ’cause he thinks it’s cool! Cool, all
right, literally. Thinks he could be somebody special if he moved into
town. Somebody special in Bethlehem? Save me. Still, he is the one whose
dear wife made us food and made sure Muckle didn’t forget it.
Huckle
is the tall, skinny dude who wants to eat and fight. He’s always convinced there
is a wolf lurking about. Edgy. Touchy. Sensitive. The “chip on his soldier”
kinda guy. Ready to fight. He hates authority of all sorts. He grew up throwing
stones at the Roman soldiers, those damn foreign fighters who occupy our land!
But Huckle likes to drink and he’s the one who brought the wine for later. Good old Huckle!
But Huckle likes to drink and he’s the one who brought the wine for later. Good old Huckle!
WHY ARE WE HERE?
After we had eaten some deliciously
seasoned mutton that Muckle’s wife put up in oilskins, we naturally got to
talking about taxes. Taxes. Why would ANYONE be out in the fields tonight when
it’s supposed to sleet? Move our sheep to sell tomorrow so we can pay our
taxes. Poor men work and sweat so hard so that the government can dominate us!?
Great
God! Taxes will be the death of the working man! You can’t imagine just how
much I have to pay and it doesn’t seem like the government under Caesar
Augustus and our local civic authorities give a flip!
We
argued, and it got pretty heated, really. That stupid Muckle thinks we should
rise up and protest! Can you imagine shepherds protesting in downtown
Bethlehem!? The place is totally FULL! Caesar decreed that everyone has had to
return to the place of their birth to be taxed!? Just a clever ploy to fill up
the motels, if you ask me.
I
will admit we had been drinking. But it will be a cold night. We like a good,
full wineskin after such a long, cold day. After we drink, we like to sing.
Better sing than fight amongst ourselves, right? So we sang. The old songs. The
camp songs. The military songs! Then we danced around the fire. Not graceful,
more leaping really, but we needed to keep moving. It was gonna be a long
night. We danced until we got tired and then we laid down and tried to sleep.
Then it started to ice over us. Oh,
great.
WHAT DO I WANT?
I was snoring near our small fire
wrapped in my cloak, when I had a dream and in my dream I heard singing, and it
wasn‘t any of our croaky shepherd singing, it was glorious. And there was light
glorious, golden light and in the light was an angel singing to me in my dream
and she was urgent that we had to run to Bethlehem. Now. Tonight. And then,
zip. She was gone. I woke up. I looked around. Ice. Just before dawn, frozen
over.
Huckle
and Muckle were still asleep. I got up, slapped myself as warm as I could, put
some wood on the fire, then started waking the fellows. They DID NOT want to
awaken, so I stuck my crook under their butts and tried to lever them upright.
But, once they woke up, they admitted that they too had dreamed, the same
dream, seen the same angel.
We
had to go to Bethlehem, we were commanded. To a stable. Where a miraculous
child lay. An angel sends us to find poor couple in a stable!? Gifts! What
gifts could we give that child? Wool, I have wool. Milk, Muckle had some
milking ewes. Huckle said he would give them a lamb.
Let
me think a moment about how we’ll get there and I’ll get back to you.
© Copyright
2014, Jean W. Yeager
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