Christmas Voices
by Joseph Bayly IV
Joseph
It’s
cold and drafty. She’s cold. Why couldn’t the boy have been born while we were
still in Nazareth, instead of here, alone, no one to help. Only me, and I’ve
never delivered a baby.
Fear not, Joseph.
I do
believe God. I take him at his word. A baby. But not mine.
Take unto thee Mary.
Mary—how
I love her. I love you, Mary. Here. Hold my hand. I’ll see that nothing goes
wrong. No, God will see to that, he’ll take care of you. He’s got to—it’s his
baby. Don’t be afraid.
She shall bring forth a son.
He’ll
work beside me, help me smooth a yoke, build a house. I’ll get him a little
saw, the boy and I will work together...
Call his name Jesus.
I like
that name: Jesus, Joshua—he brought our people to this land. He was a leader,
Joshua was. He was God’s man.
He shall save his people.
It’s
beyond me. I’m just a carpenter, not a rabbi. How can he save, even after he
comes of age? When Messiah comes…
…from their sins.
Things
are so bad. People are so bad, not just the Romans, either. For that matter,
I’m bad—I need a Savior. Mary, I’m here. Don’t be afraid—cry out, if you feel
like it.
Emmanuel.
God
with us, Mary. God’s with us, and here’s the baby. Listen to him cry. Where did
you put the bands to wrap him in? I love you, Mary. And I love your son—our
son.
Shepherd
It’s a
night for lambing, a dark one. No moon or stars. It’s good we built this fire.
—What’s that?
Fear not.
Don’t
be afraid? When you see an angel, big as life? And hear its voice rock the
whole countryside? I’m glad this hole is here.
For, behold, I bring good tidings of great joy.
I wish
it’d go away. Or lower its voice. ‘Great joy’ sounds good, though. I could sure
use some. Do you suppose that’s a real, honest-to-goodness angel?
…which shall be to all people.
Impossible.
How can the same news be good for the Roman swine and for us? The angel must be
Jewish, like God. It probably means ‘to all Jews.’
For unto you is born this day in the City of David…
In
Bethlehem? Little Bethlehem, where I was born? Impossible. Maybe Jerusalem, but
not Bethlehem.
…a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.
The
Messiah, born tonight, born in Bethlehem? We’ve waited for centuries, and no
Messiah. Tonight’s a night for a lamb to be born, not a Messiah.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the
babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
The
Messiah born in a stable? A baby all wrapped up? Impossible. A lamb in a
stable, a king in a palace. —Hey, look at that, a whole army of angels. More
than a Roman legion. And what a bright light!
Glory to God in the highest…
They
must be able to hear that the whole way to Bethlehem.
…on earth peace, good will toward men.
Peace,
that’s great. Especially if it means the Romans will leave our country. But
‘good will toward men’? They must mean toward Jews, if they’re really speaking
for God. —Hey, where did they go? It’s dark again. They’re gone. Did you see
that? Did you hear what they said? Wait till I tell the wife about this. Let’s
go to Bethlehem and see what they were talking about. Maybe we’ll find the
Messiah, maybe we’ll only find a lamb. In a stable, mind you.
Look at
the newborn. A perfect little thing, like a lamb without blemish.
The Father
My Son
Farewell.
A body I’ve prepared for you
in Mary
Jewish girl
betrothed to Joseph
Jewish carpenter.
You who have been with me
from everlasting days
who with me made all things
including earth and man
and Mary
tonight become a creature vulnerable
baby most helpless.
The swirling cloud
takes you to her
through darkest night.
I send an angel army to protect
proclaim your birth.
You’ll grow
and spend a few days’ light
then darkest noon
and you’ll return.
I’ll have the dust of earth
virgin’s fruit
at my right hand
forevermore.
Tonight I joy
that you delight to do my will
take God-sized step
to earth and womb
and tree.
My Son, Farewell.
I hear a baby’s cry.
Mary
Wretched
place to be delivered. Birthplace of oxen, of asses, of vermin. Pain. Travail
in a stable.
Fear not, Mary.
Stench
of manure. Straw, pungent, acrid. Birth pangs in a stable.
For thou hast found favor with God.
Pain.
My first baby. A boy. Born in a stable, born away from home. Nine months. Nine
long months.
Thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a
son.
A son.
My son. Strange thought—not his. Pain. My son, my Savior. Our Savior.
Thou shalt call his name Jesus.
Jesus.
Jesus. Pain. He shall lead our people into the Promised Land. Beautiful name.
Jesus, my first baby. A boy.
He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the
Highest.
God’s
Son in a stable? Birthplace of oxen, birthplace of vermin? Pain, what pain. Son
of the highest.
The Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his
father, David.
Palaces,
not stables, for kings. Pain. Pain. Stables for asses, for sheep. For a little
lamb.
Of his kingdom there shall be no end.
David’s
kingdom ended. Every kingdom ends. Pain. His kingdom… Pain. It will never end.
Never. Pain. Greater than King David. Pain. Pain. My baby. My Savior. Pain.
Pain. Pain. Joseph, Joseph.
My
baby. Those fingers, so tiny. Round little arms and legs. My baby.
That holy thing that is born of thee…
Cover
him up. Wind it tight. Drafty old stable. Stars through the roof. Smelly
manger, hard and cold.
He shall be called the Son of God.
Those
hands, those tiny, perfect little hands. They made the stars, the earth. God’s
Son, my Savior, my baby. It’s cold tonight. Cover the hands, too.
Joseph
T. Bayly
Decision Magazine
December,
1974
