Voices

Snapshots From Bethlehem

by Vic Jameson

That young one there, looks like she can’t be a fortnight above sixteen and with a newborn at her breast. Father seems attentive, though, but poor. Wonder if he has a trade; must not have, nor money either judging how that lackey refused them at his master’s inn. Doesn’t look menial, though, the father, if father’s what he is. But like I say, the man’s not getting paid for doing chores. That’s love, that is, and the adoration in her eyes was not bought with Caesar’s gold. I could wish they’d try the temple for a place to stay. ‘Til daybreak anyway. But look, the women folk are going to them now, the man and maid and child. Must be taking them in. No, to the stable. Well, it is no palace -- not that they were apt to do much better; lodging and food are always in short supply. I hope they’ll be safe; I don’t feel good with Roman soldiers prowling around. Well, time has come and gone for me to sleep.

Huh? What’s that? Why am I sleeping here? Why, with as much right as you to wake me, you thoughtless slob. All right, all right, I’ll get off your filthy street. Who wants to stand here and act glad that some slave of Herod is coming ‘round. No, I didn’t pick up the rock to throw it at you; if I had, you’d not be breathing now.

Oh, pardon, sire, I fear I didn’t see you. And you seek news of a messiah coming here? The Lord knows how we need one; why, yes, sire, the inn is just down there and there’s been great commotion ever since the camels and shepherds and strangers started milling around, They’re a bother even though I did sell a bag of good, ripe fruit to that one with the package in his arms. Well, I must be off. The wife says there’s usually work to be had in times like these.

Look! There’s that star again. Or whatever it is. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s moving. And that little family is up to something. He’s pointing. They’re leaving. Toward Egypt. How can I get any rest with all this going on?

May that same starlight brighten the way for you and all you love.

Vic Jameson
Christmas 2004