The Star of Bethlehem

The Star of Bethlehem

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was nearly dark. I was driving towards a little village called Netherton when the car slowed and came to a standstill. I glanced at the dashboard. The petrol light was flashing. Oh no! How could I have made such a stupid mistake? After all the rush and fighting the crowds doing last-minute shopping, this was all I needed. Cross, I took a deep breath and huffed, my lips vibrating as I blew through them forcefully. I opened the car door and got out, slamming it shut behind me. I stomped round to the boot, opened it, and peered in. By the small boot light, I saw I had forgotten to put the empty petrol can into the car. I would have to walk in the cold and the snow to find a petrol station and hope they sold a petrol can. Furious, I started walking in what I hoped was the right direction for the nearest petrol station. As I walked, the wind picked up, and the gentle flurry of snow became a blizzard. I bent my head and battled the snowstorm. Suddenly, there was a let-up in the snow, and I was able to see, in the gathering gloom, on my left, a small church. It was a lovely building made of stone with a squat tower on one end. On the far end, a light shone through a window, and it looked inviting, promising shelter from the cold and the flurrying snow. Grateful for the chance to be out of the biting weather,I made my way down the path to the thick, wooden front door on the side of the church.

Sheltered from the worst of the snow by a porch, the wind still managed to rattle the handle vigorously when it gusted. I grasped the heavy, iron ring with both hands, turned it, and pushed. At first, I misjudged the strength I needed to open it.

“Come on, Kasper,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “Put your back into it.” I leaned on it as hard as I could, and it creaked on its hinges as it swung open. I was hit by a wall of heat and the all-pervading smell of incense. I hadn’t been inside a church since I was eight, but the smell was unforgettable. I was in a vestibule with a glass partition separating it from the main body of the church. The hush in the church wrapped around me and, after all the noise, the roar and rush of the Christmas traffic, the strident hooting of car horns as impatient drivers became irritated and cross with each other, I stood absorbing the quietness, and it was as if I’d been purged of all the annoyance, all the bitter cursing of what was supposed be ‘the season of goodwill’. I felt a calmness and peace descend, soothing my frayed nerves. The partition acted as a barrier from the winds that blew through cracks in the front door. I opened the rather flimsy door in the middle of the partition and stood looking down towards the altar. Behind it was the most beautiful stained-glass window. Reaching right up to the roof, it was lit by two spotlights, one on either side of the chancel. It was done as a triptych with a big arched window in the middle and two smaller arched windows, one on either side of it. The subject of the windows, each taken on its own, was not remarkable. Stained-glass windows usually depicted a bible story, but this one was different from anything I had ever seen. The centre window that showed Christ on the cross was quite obviously inspired by Dali’s well-known painting ‘Christ of Saint John of the Cross’. The startling thing about the windows on either side was that they were depictions of scenes associated with Christ’s birth. The one on the left showed the Three Wise Men, and the one on the right showed the shepherds. The star the wise men followed was over Christ on the cross. The colours of the stained glass must have been spectacular with the sun shining through it, especially the richness of the clothes of the wisemen. The white tunics, the green, the red, and the blue of their capes, the deep, rich tan of the one camel and the warm, golden, light beige of the other two.

Keeping my eyes fixed on the window, I made my way through the stifling heat and the heady smell of the incense towards the altar. My footsteps rang through the church, and I passed the quietly waiting pews on either side of the aisle, the pulpit on my left and the beautiful carved lectern with the large, open Bible on the right. But the nearer I got to the window, the more everything moved away. As I walked into the chancel, the choir seats on either side seemed to move outwards and drop away while overhead, the roof melted, revealing a night sky covered with stars. The warmth of the church was replaced with the cold air of the night, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. As I stepped forward, wondering what was happening, I found I was walking on sand; in front of me were two men on camels.

“Come on, Kasper,” said one of the men, who was wearing a white tunic with a green, velvet cape and a matching pointy hat. “On your camel. We’ve got to make the next town by the time it gets light.”

“Oh, Melchior! Stop worrying! We’ll get there. Here, Kasper, here’s your camel,” said the other man, holding out the reins. This man was also wearing a white tunic, but he had a red silk cape and a golden silk hat. I took the reins, gave them a shake, and the camel laboriously sat down. I wrinkled my nose and frowned, but climbed on without comment, and hung on tightly around its neck. It unfolded its long, back legs, throwing me forward onto its neck. I managed to cling on, just, but as it then manoeuvred its two front legs to a standing position, I had to tighten my grip on its body by squeezing my knees into its sides. Melchior and Balthazar laughed at my efforts to stay on.

“We shouldn’t have brought him. We knew he’d never ridden a camel before,” said Melchior.

“Stop your grumbling, Mel. He’ll get the hang of it by the time we get there, won’t you, Kasper?”

“Yes, of course I will,” I said with an optimism I didn’t feel. “Er…where are we going?”

“We’re following that star. It’s an omen, you know, but we’re not sure exactly where it’s leading, are we Mel?”

“Don’t ask me, I’m only here to keep you company.”

“You’re a good pal, Mel. It’ll be fine, you’ll see. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

“You’re following that star?” I asked.

“ You’ve got it,” said Mel

“Um.. you wouldn’t be going to Bethlehem, by any chance, would you?”

“Where’s Bethlehem, Kasper?” said Melchior.

“Er.. Israel,” I said

“Never heard of it, “ said Melchior.

“Me neither,” said Balthazar. “Why would we go there?”

“To see the baby Jesus?” I said.

“A baby? Ugh! I hate babies,” said Melchior.

“Oh, do stop moaning, Mel,” said Balthazar.

“Well, what do we want to go and see a baby for? When you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

“Are you two always like this?” I said.

“It’s just banter,” said Balthazar, grinning. “You tell us, as you know so much about it. Why are we going to see this baby?”

“He’s the Christ child. He’s going to save the world,” I said.

“What from?” said Balthazar.

“Their sins,” I said. “You know, like when you do something wrong. He’s going to forgive you and stop you going to hell.”

“And how does a baby think he’s going to do that?” said Melchior.

“I don’t know. It’s just what I’ve heard.”

“Nah! You should stop listening to gossip, Kasper.”

“Rumours!” said Melchior. “They spread like wildfire, don’t they?” Balthazar laughed.

“I’m just saying,” I said. “I didn’t say I believed, did I?”

“ We'd better get a move on before it gets light; we don’t want to lose that star,” said Melchior.

“It’s alright. I’ve got a watch,” I blurted out. I knew as soon as I’d said it, I should have kept my mouth shut.

“A watch?” said Balthazar. With a great deal of reluctance, I showed them my wrist.

“What’s it watch?” said Melchior, furrowing his brow.

“Our direction. It’s just something I made,” I lied.

“Does it work?” I’d got Balthazar’s interest.

“I don’t know. I’m just trying it out.”

We travelled on in silence. The way was dusty and stony with outcrops of rock, but the camels were used to such terrain, and they took it in their stride. At last, we came to a small town, so we dismounted and went to find an inn where our camels would be cared for, and we could get something to eat and a bed for some rest. We walked along dusty streets, passed houses with whitewashed walls, some with stairs on the outside leading up to flat roofs, some with women sitting outside, grinding grain into flour to make breads and flatbreads. The sounds of the hustle and bustle of people going about their business, shouting their wares, some selling carpets or rugs, while some sold meat, and some sold vegetables. The sound of goats bleating, or chickens clucking, mixed with the cries of the shopkeepers. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air and mixed with the smell of grilling lamb, beef or chicken. The smell of fresh herbs and spices mingled with the other smells of the streets and made the three men leading their camels feel hungry. At last, they came to an inn and, leaving their camels with the camel driver, they went and had something to eat and caught up on some sleep.

By the time it was dusk, we were ready to continue our journey. This was the pattern for the next few days. I never mentioned my watch again, and they never asked. But I kept my eye on it, so I was quite surprised when it altered direction. Not by a lot, and not enough to notice by watching the star, but my watch registered it. I fiddled with it and discovered that we were going towards Jerusalem, but I kept that to myself.

I don’t know how long we’d been travelling for; I had lost count of the days, but eventually, we came to the outskirts of Jerusalem. There were more and more people on the road as we got closer to the city. People with donkeys carrying packs of things to be sold in the markets. People from near and far, who came to the temple, some to pray, some to sell lambs and chickens for sacrifices, and some to set up as money lenders. There were people everywhere. Roman soldiers in their striking red tunics were out in force, showing the people just who was in charge, though in fact, they were fighting to keep control of the crowds, who seemed very excitable. The people were jostling each other, and there was a lot of shouting. Children ran about, sometimes playing games, sometimes running to keep up with their mums or dads. There were different styles of clothing on show. The men generally wore natural, undyed clothes, or creams and browns, and it was the women who wore the bright colours of blues, reds, and yellows. The streets were lined with shops, some sold beautiful cloth, some sold a variety of lamps and the oil to go with them. Shops abounded that sold knick-knacks, jewellery, and anything else that they thought they could sell. The smells of cooking wafted through the air, making people’s mouths water, tempting them to satisfy a hunger they hadn’t felt until the delicious smells reached their noses. The smells of onions and spices frying.

We were all packed close together with hardly any space between us. We found our camels useful for clearing a path as we threaded our way through the crowd. We found that people would jump out of our way, so they didn’t get trampled by the big beasts. Snippets of conversation could be heard as we pushed our way through. Much of it was about one of the men they were crucifying. Many thought he was a troublemaker who needed to be made an example of, while a few people could be heard sticking up for him, saying he was harmless and should have been left alone. But these people were careful not to be too vocal in their support of a man who was clearly disliked by the majority of the crowd.

“It seems to be all happening outside the city, shall we go and have a look?” said Balthazar.

“ I think the Romans are putting on a show, or have been,” said Melchior.

“Whatever it was, I think it’s nearly finished. The people seem to be leaving,” I said.

But as we got near the city walls, the crowds got thicker, so we dismounted and left our camels down a side street with a young lad. Balthazar gave him some money to take care of them till we got back.

“You can have the rest when we return,” said Balthazar. He didn’t want the lad running off and not doing his job.

“Come on, let’s go and see what’s happening,” said Balthazar. We pushed our way through the crowd. We heard someone say they were crucifying some robbers. The Romans loved making a spectacle of such people; it helped keep the peace.

“The one in the middle’s not a robber,” I heard someone on my left say.

“He’s just a troublemaker,” said a voice behind me.

“We had to crucify him. The Jews were threatening to riot if we didn’t,” said a soldier in front of me.

The three of us made an exerted effort, and at last we broke through the throng to where a cordon of soldiers held the crowd back. We were standing right in front of the three men being crucified. The crowd were shouting and jeering at them, and most of it seemed to be directed at the one in the middle. I noticed a plaque nailed above his head. It said, ‘The King of the Jews.’

“Why are you crucifying your King?” I asked the man next to me.

“He’s not our King,” the man said. “I think Pilate was laughing at us. It’s the sort of thing he’d do.”

“Who is he, then?”

“He’s a troublemaker. Thinks he’s God, he does. Goes around telling people their sins are forgiven when we know only God can do that. He’s getting quite a following, but we’ve got to put a stop to his nonsense before it becomes too much for us to keep a lid on. If he were God, we wouldn’t be able to crucify Him, would we? He wouldn’t let us.”

Funny how people seem to think they know what God would and wouldn’t do, or what He would and wouldn’t think. Some people still do, I thought.

Balthazar dug me in the ribs, and I turned and looked at him. He was pointing above the middle cross.

“Look,” he said. ”It’s the star. What does it mean?”

As my eyes travelled upwards, they met the eyes of the man hanging there on the cross, and they locked. Everything seemed to go quiet, and we seemed to be alone, just the two of us. For what seemed like an age, I lost all sense of time as he looked deep inside me, and an unfathomable love flowed into me. I felt a bump from behind and, as I took a step forward to keep my balance, I found I was back in the warmth of the church, staring at the stained-glass windows.

I walked up the aisle, pondering. I opened the door and stepped out. I stood in the entrance of the porch looking out. It was terribly cold. The snow was falling, and it was nearly dark, but I felt warm and light inside; I understood what Christmas meant.