Hills and Valleys – part 2

Israeli landscape

So the people began to leave their homes. Fires died in the hearths, and the water in the wells settled, levelled, no bucket breaking the surface. Carpenters shops shut up, and the anvils of the blacksmith remained silent. The rush lamps guttered and went out. The broom by the door sat idle and the dust gathered along with the insects and the mice. Only those who could claim that this was the place of their ancestors remained, watching, guarding, protecting. On the roads people began to gather. People meeting people, travelling together, talking, sharing the journey, helping each other, breaking bread together, bedding down together, protecting each other through the long night watches and bringing warmth where there was a cold hard night. A stream of people gathering, multiplying, heading together like the water rushing to become a mighty river, strangers becoming friends, family reunited, travelling white stone roads by foot, by donkey, by camel, by any means they can, heading towards those few chosen places, the towns of the ancestors.

But in the vast migration of this blessed land, moving towards the town of David, for her husband was of the lineage of that great King, was one young woman, and as she journeyed along meeting with people greeting people, travelling along with them, her goodness and her kindness melted peoples hearts, and the vulnerability of her pregnancy touched the chivalry of men and awoke fellow maternal feelings in the women. Her husband watched the attention she got with indulgence, only he knowing who she really was, only he half knowing what the baby she was carrying, is.

The soldiers, straight, solid, swords drawn, drove the travellers up the hills and chased them down the valleys. Moving them on. Shaking them up. Chastising them for tardiness, fearing them for their numbers. Recording them when they arrived. Pressing them to return quickly from whence they came.

Down in the valley a small door opened, and a man and a woman and a small grey donkey were ushered in, then the door closed.

Up in the hills there were shepherds watching over their flocks at night. They didn’t notice the door opening again, they were watching open mouthed as the darkness of heaven was rent in two, and angels came flooding out singing praises to God, and showering the earth with blessings.

Behind the door were a man, a woman, a small grey donkey and a red faced crying baby. The glory of God rushed through the tear in heavens fabric and swooped down on the baby crooning songs of love and joy and peace. Then cradling him, showed him off to anyone who happened to pass by, eyes caught in the mesmerising light of the divine. Angels came, shepherds came, Wisemen came and after them those whose names were known only to God

And Mary watched the convoy of people passing before her son, and she remembered all these wonderful things happening before her eyes and pondered them.

Hills and Valleys – part 1

Israeli landscape

On that day the order went out from the top of the hill in Jerusalem. Send out men. Order them to go to every town, every village, every hovel in this rebellious country, and demand that they present themselves in the town of their birth, four weeks from now to register for their tax.

In a valley a young woman sat by a stream trailing her fingers through the water, gazing into the green blue depths, trying to read the passing of time in the passing of the water. Her hand, wet and dripping would occasionally gently stroke the swelling mound of her belly, foreshadowing, had she but known it, another washing, another journey to the water, another time of anointing for the next stage of the journey of life.

So the men descended the hill of Jerusalem to the valley of the Kidron, and fanned out. In clashing armour and with military precision, with maps of the hills and valleys, lists of the people and places, they scattered to the four corners of the Land of the Israelites. In each town and village, at each isolated hovel the soldiers shouted out their message to everyone who gathered in trepidation to hear what they had to say. Then the legionaries, shielded by their protective armour took out their nails and their hammers, and they drove home their message, nailing paper and parchment to post and tree, to well and wall, with a resounding echo that rumbled down the years.

Then the people gathered, fearful, and whispered. Do I have to go? Those who could read, read the paper held by the cruel nails. Then they turned with amazement on their faces to tell their companions. All of us whose family lines are not of this place will have to put down their tools, put down their daily lives, put down their friends. No excuses will be accepted. Leave the hearths cold, carry the sick and the young, support the infirm, do what we must, but on pain of death we must go.

The soldiers marched back to their barracks, back to their hill, back to the order of their military lives; in ones and twos, then threes and fours, then tens, then hundreds, gathering reforming, the silver armoured men gathered, and marched, clashing their way home across the land their duty done.

My girl Mary – part 2

Anna and Joachim

It wasn’t until this morning that I finally knew for certain that what Mary was saying was true. When I woke up I remembered the dream that I had last night, at least I think it was a dream. I never normally remember my dreams, but this was so vivid, it seemed more real than now. I dreamed that an angel visited me, and called me by my name,

‘Anna’ it said, ‘come with me, and I will show you the part that you are playing in God’s plan for humankind.’

I then found myself beyond the veil that separates us mortals from God. I was sitting on a high peak looking down on the whole of God’s creation. It was a place where time had no meaning, and the woven colours of the tapestry of human lives shimmered and writhed together as lives and times and places collided and wove in and out of each other. The colours of the lives of individuals bled into each other as human kindness and love were shared. Fibres darkened as emotions became intense and lightened in periods of calm. All of this tapestry was lit by the light of God. And while I marvelled at what I was looking at, a beam of light lit one fibre, and I could see reflected in it my daughter Mary. As I watched she gave birth to her baby, a boy. The moment he came out of her and before he took his first breath it seemed as if the whole of the tapestry stopped for one infinitesimal moment and the whole of creation turned to look at the new born baby. When his first cry rang out, the colours of the tapestry became so intense with joy and happiness and love that the colours seemed to be alive, and the brightness of God illuminating the tapestry from behind me dimmed as if in that moment he had so exhausted himself in the birth of that baby, my grandson, that he needed to take a breath to recover. Then the joy of the whole of his creation seemed to energise him again. It was in that moment that I understood that that baby, my Grandson, is also God’s son.

Nothing is going to stop the gossip of the village, nobody will believe Mary, nobody will believe me when I tell them that what she is saying is true. They will call me a silly old fool, who believes Mary’s storyt to save herself from facing up to reality. I don’t know whether Joachim has also received a dream from God, so I don’t know whether he will believe us. None of the men in the village will admit to being the father, so the village will suspect some passing Roman soldier. Whatever happens I have let go of Mary, and will just have to let God take care of her. He will be better at it.

One thing I already know is that I will not see my Grandson born. My dream was a gift from God to me. I know that he will be born in Bethlehem, the town of David, Joseph’s ancestor. I have no idea how God will get them there, but he will. I know that they will then have to go on a journey, and I cannot remember from my dream whether they return here again, and I get to see and hold my Grandson. I will just have to trust that God will grant me that gift.

My girl Mary – part 1

Anna and Joachim

I thought my Mary was a good girl, but it appears she has got herself pregnant, and claims that the father is God. I have heard some stories while sitting round the well, chatting as the water is being raised and our vessels are being filled. I hope I have listened sympathetically and not been too judgemental, because now I am going to be the focus of the village gossip for months and years to come. Knowing looks and sympathy are going to be heaped on me. It is at times like this that I can understand why people like to live where their private lives are not under constant scrutiny.

I learnt about Mary’s condition when Joseph, Mary’s betrothed, came round to see us a few days ago, and told us that she had been to see him, to tell him about her pregnancy. Joachim was absolutely furious. He raged at Joseph for touching his daughter before the marriage ceremony had been performed, but Joseph was adamant that although they are betrothed, he has not touched her. Many men do get their betrothed pregnant, but he is an honourable man and would not. It took some while for him to convince us, but we are convinced. Mary has told him some story about an angel visiting her in the middle of the night, who told her that God wants her to bear his son. I have heard stories like that before. Nothing good comes of them. Joseph is a kind and generous man. He told us that he loves and respects Mary, and although he cannot now follow through with the marriage, he wished to put her away quietly. This is more than generous. He could have dragged her before the Rabbi, who would have questioned her, and then taken her outside of the village, and with the other elders stoned her to death.

For days after Joseph left, we tried talking to Mary. Joachim threatened her with the whip if she kept to her story about God being the Father. She didn’t change her story one iota. She knows that he wouldn’t hit her, he never has. Even seeing the look of such sorrow on his face, she stuck to her story. We then tried pointing out that if she admitted who the father was, we could have a go at persuading him to marry her, but she still would not change her story. We were then astonished when Joseph came back to us and told us that he had changed his mind. He did still want to marry Mary, and would take the child as his own. We were absolutely astounded and immensely grateful. He wanted to assure me that no one need ever know that the child is not his. I asked him what had made him change his mind. He became rather evasive, and just mumbled something about ‘changing his mind’, and ‘God only knows’. I have no idea what he was on about, and frankly I don’t really want to know. We are just so grateful. Our beautiful daughter has been spared the humiliation of an unwanted pregnancy and we have been spared the humiliation of the whole village knowing.

Joseph has suggested that he takes Mary to her cousin Elizabeth, who lives in Hebron, for a few weeks. He has to deliver a plough to a customer near Jericho, which is on the way. They can use that as an excuse for the journey. It will take at least a week to get to Hebron, so they will stay for a few weeks before returning. He will ask Zechariah, Elizabeth’s husband who is a Cohen to perform the wedding ceremony. We will have to make up some story as to why it is happening there and not here. The whole village will suspect when the baby arrives early and because the wedding will have been rather irregular, but it is the best we can come up with at the moment.

Through all of these talks and negotiations, through all the rows and accusations Mary has been calm and serene. Nothing seems to have got through to her. She doesn’t seem to appreciate the difficulties her actions have caused. It is almost as if there is a barrier between her and us. She just keeps on telling us that the baby is God’s, and he will provide for her and the baby. All that will happen to them will be God’s will. I could almost believe her when Joseph came back to claim her as his wife.

Rumours of Angels – part 2

Angel

If I say it myself, I am good at singing. I had hoped that Michael, God’s choir master would choose me for his heavenly choir to announce the birth of his son, and he did. I was spot on in that dream, by the way, and Joseph’s pride was assuaged by the idea that he had been chosen to raise God’s son. He has now just got to get Mary safely to Bethlehem, and his part is done for a little while. Ah yes, there they are. Oh dear, it looks as if they are only just going to get there in time. God’s plans aren’t leaving much room for error. She looks as if she is only just going to make it out to the stable God has already prepared for her. Um, I wonder if I was supposed to tell Joseph in the dream that he was supposed to ask for a stable, because there certainly aren’t any places left in the Inns in Bethlehem. If I was supposed to bring it into his mind, I forgot! Oh look, there he goes, he has finally found the right Inn, and yes he has got Mary to the stable. Not a moment too soon, if I am any judge. I had better go and get my wings and halo buffed up. This choir isn’t aiming to produce just a rumour of the birth of God’s son, we are going for the full heavenly glory. Shock and awe is what we have been asked to produce; full volume and full brightness in the heavens. Those Shepherds won’t know what has hit them when they get a load of us!

That was fun! Rumours of our work tonight will filter down through the ages. The story of our singing, our light and our beauty will be written in the annals of human history. Some will believe that we were here today, in this place, and to proclaim the birth of God’s son, others will continue to believe that we do not exist, and neither did Jesus. Did I tell you that is what Mary has named him? He is very sweet. And if he is to remain sweet, and alive, I had better get on.

I have another few dreams to inhabit. It won’t be too difficult to inhabit Joseph’s dreams again. We have already met and he now knows and trusts me. I need to tell him that the three of them are in grave danger from Herod. As soon as Jesus is ready to travel, and the sooner the better, he has to set off, not back home to Nazareth, where he was expecting to go, but south along the merchant’s routes until he reaches the Egyptian city of Alexandria, where Herod’s writ does not extend. There are large numbers of his countrymen already living in the city, and he will be able to find somewhere to live, and earn a living without anyone knowing who Jesus really is. I will have to come back into his dreams at a later point to let him know when it is safe to return.

Before I do that though, I need to do something I have never done before. God tells me it is possible, and I have to believe him. Somewhere, and I have yet to spot them, there are three sages travelling from the East to visit Jesus. The only problem is that despite God sticking an enormous star up in the heavens, just to lead them to the right place, they have decided that the star is wrong, and their writings are right. They have taken a wrong turn, and are heading into danger. I have to inhabit three dreams at the same time, and convince them that they should follow the star despite it disagreeing with their writings – the star knows best! Then when they are done, they have to get out of Bethlehem and get back home as quickly as possible, breaking their word to King Herod; and they pride themselves on keeping their word. The only other little flaw with this plan I can see, is that these are men of science, and men of science don’t believe in Angels, so I don’t think they are going to take notice of a single thing I say.

The women at the well in Nazareth are talking about me again. Another day has dawned, and another rumour of angels is surfacing as the buckets are drawn up from the depths of the village well.

“Have you seen Mary and Joseph yet? They arrived back yesterday”

“They look really well, and that little boy of theirs is adorable”

“Do you remember the story about his birth?”

“I never believed those stories of angels. Just look at the lad, isn’t he the spitting image of Joseph when he was that age?

“Well, you are the only one to remember that far back!”

“Don’t you get cheeky now”

“Don’t they look foreign though? I suppose that comes from living in Egypt for these last few years. Fancy that. I suppose that an angel told them to go there.”

Well, now you come to mention it, I did tell them to go; and to come back again. Now is the time for the rest of God’s plan for the saving of mankind to continue here in sleepy Nazareth, but Jesus has a few years to grow up in, before his real work begins.

Rumours of angels – part 1

 

Angel

I first began to hear rumours of angels at the village well. As the first few rays of light began to show themselves over the eastern horizon, the women of the village began to make their way to collect water ready to make breakfast. As the older matrons settled themselves on a bench under a tree, and began to direct the younger women in the best way to fill the water jars, the conversation turned from water to light.

“Did you see that light in the window of Anne and Joachim’s house last night? What was she burning to make such a bright light?”

“It was so bright that it woke me up! I thought it was daytime, and that I had overslept, then it went away, and I went back to sleep. I thought that I had just dreamed it.”

“It woke me too. I noticed young Isaac was missing, and I was just beginning to get worried, when he slipped back into the house. He told me such a tall tale that I clipped him round the ear, sent him back to bed, and told him that he would have to do better than that next time.”

“What did he say the light was?”

“He said it was an angel, I ask you! He said he was woken by the light, and went out to investigate. He slipped over to the house and went up the side stairs, and looked through a hole in the roof to see what was going on. He said that standing in the middle of the room was an angel, and it was talking to young Mary. Well, I ask you, have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“No, I haven’t. That Mary is a nice enough girl, if you ask me, but she can be a bit deep at times. If an angel was going to come to anyone, it ought to be to my Maryam, she is such a beautiful girl”

At this point the conversation began to take a rather nasty turn, and I thought that I had better stop eavesdropping, and get on with my work. It is a pity I was seen by someone apart from Mary. That was not in the plan. That brat Isaac should never have been out of bed! Still it is done now. The women and Isaac will know soon enough what my conversation with Mary was about. The question is, whether they will ever believe what she tells them.

As an angel, I don’t live in the same time and space as human beings, so I moved straight on to my next job. I knew this time that I would not be seen by anyone not intended, because I had to inhabit Joseph’s dream. If I had a hard time convincing Mary to take part in God’s plan for humankind, it was going to be even more difficult for Joseph to accept his part. Not only did I have to persuade him to continue with his betrothal to Mary, despite the fact that she is pregnant, and he knows perfectly well that the child is not his. I also have to persuade him to raise the child to the best of his ability and on top of all that, I have to convince him that the child is God’s son. All these things together could be a big blow to a man’s pride, and how proud these human men can be. I hope God really does know his man well enough, and that he was convinced by my fleeting appearance in a dream. Oh well, on to the next job!

The Scribe to the Prophet – part 2

The scribe to the Prophet

As the sun warms my tired and cramped hands, I sink closer to sleep, and in that half state where you are not deeply asleep, just unaware of the world outside of your head, I hear a voice talking to me. “You are not just a scribe, you are my scribe. I knew you before you were born, before you were even a gleam in your father’s eye. I saw every part of your body as it was formed in your mother’s womb, and I made sure that the hands that you write with, the eyes that you see with, the ears that you hear with, and the brain that you interpret with, were made just as I wanted them, just as I needed them, for just as you are using them now. There is no place that you could go to, not in heaven nor in earth, where I could not find you. There is no time, from the dawning of the day, to the last rays of the sun; from the first light of the moon, to its overshadowing by the rising sun, where I do not see you clearly. Light does not illuminate, nor does darkness hide you, for you are ever in my heart and in my mind. I am around you, below you, above you. I am within you and without you, I am part of you, but you are uniquely yourself. When you are awake and waiting on the prophet I am there. I am here and now as you sleep and rest. I am your guard, your guide, your teacher, your friend. I am your beginning and your end, your past and your eternity. You could not leave me, and I hope that you would not want to, for you are THE scribe to the prophet. You are my scribe to my prophet and you are infinitely precious to me”.

At this I awoke, with tears in my eyes and a smile on my lips. I came again from my head into my body, and my body was still sitting in the warming courtyard with pen and paper on the bench beside me. A woman crossed the courtyard carrying a flask of wine, with some fruit, bread and cheese in a basket. She held them out to me and I took them. I set them down on the bench and began to eat and drink. When I was replete I took up my board, stretched a scroll on it; stirred the small flask of ink and sharpened the pen. Then without looking at the notes I had made though the long, long night, I began to write

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government shall be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Councellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and for ever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this.”

As I wrote, I thought about the words that I write, the words that I was given in my dream, the words which other scribes will read, and other people will hear, and I know that I, the scribe to the prophet am playing my part in God’s great plan for the redemption of his people, and even if I do not see it happen in my lifetime, I will be there in the presence of God with all his people, past, present and future, seeing all being fulfilled, just as God has willed it, and is making it come to pass.