Bethlehem’s Glastonbury Night
All my life I worked around Bethlehem.
It’s always been sheep country. Remember David –
Just shows you how far you can go as a shepherd on the make.
Wee nuisance, singer songwriter, premier league slingshot,
Goliath killer; King of Israel; royal line of the Messiah.
From Bethlehem – just a wee village really,
but we called it the city of David – and we hoped –
we hoped for a Messiah who would give us back
all that we had lost, - land, freedom, dignity.
You know - the kind of hope that’s like a lump in your throat,
a hunger in the gut for justice, a thirst in the throat for peace,
an ache for new possibilities, a longing that never goes away,
an endless imagining that things can be different.
And every single hour of every day
digging out of your heart the energy to keep on believing.
Rome was our Goliath, the empire of the bully,
too powerful, cruel and organised for us to make them go away.
We needed a new David, Messiah from the line of David.
How we dreamed of those five smooth stones,
how we hoped for that one precision strike to topple Goliath of Rome.
God send to us the Son of David, we prayed –---
to a seemingly silent heaven.
Not going to happen. We talked about it round the night fires,
listening to sheep, smelling sheep, protecting sheep,
feeling as defenceless and stupid as sheep, fleeced by Rome.
O we had the Psalms, “WE are his people, the sheep of his pasture.”
But for the past 70 years we had been Rome’s people,
Rome’s flock, the people of Rome’s pastures,
fleeced, fenced in, and as a sheep before here shearers is dumb,
we opened not our mouths!
Anyway, all those years ago, like David,
I was a shepherd lad, on the hills doing nightshift.
You’ll hear folk say being a shepherd is a rubbish job,
working with animals, smelling of sheep, the great unwashed,
long hours on the hills, minimum wage, no time off.
Right enough. It was hard going, especially on the nightshift.
We laughed at folk who couldn’t sleep, and counted sheep,
We counted sheep -- and couldn’t sleep!
That night – I'll never forget it – it was freezing,
the stars shone in dark a sky,
pinhole patterns of perforated heaven, backlit by the shekinah,
yhe glory of the presence of God;
that brilliant laser holiness human eyes can never see and live.
That kind of night.
Round the fire we handed round the wine and the Matzos.
We were talking about the Romans, grumbling and moaning.
Complaint is the language of those who can’t find the energy,
or the courage, or the hope, to change things.
The census: Rome commands and the world jumps in obedience;
Taxes; Rome demands and the world pays up.
Rome shouted we jumped, as high as they asked.
Rome chose the music, we danced to their tune.
There were six of us, having a complaint competition,
a fellowship held together by mutual moaning about the state of the world.
Then there was seven – where did he come from?
This strange, glowing presence, was he even human?
Then it was as if the sky unzipped and light spilled out!
The shekinah, the glory of God, pouring down
in great dancing flames of beautiful, terrifying, living light;
the choreography of heaven for an audience of shepherds.
Then the angel spoke, with a voice commanding
far more authority than Caesar Augustus at full volume:
“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Do not be afraid? Fear not, Aye right.
Like, this happens every other night!
He just tells us the Messiah is arriving but it’s OK. Don’t panic!
Before we could panic, all the flames seemed to form faces,
cherubim and seraphim, the holy love of heaven with wings!
They started playing and singing the music of creation,
a flash mob of angels, the orchestration of eternity,
the music of the spheres, the theatre of God’s glory,
a full choral orchestra telling the world, Don’t be afraid!
And LED lights, LED – Love Extending Downwards,
the voice of God in synchronised music and movement,
audible light and visible sound!
Then darkness again, the deep darkness of lost night vision.
It wasn’t only our eyes that needed to adjust;
our whole world had just been turned upside down, and inside out –
Despair disappeared, and new hope in our hearts
echoed the energising music of heaven on the loose.
The dark silence of the fields did nothing to calm us down.
Going to Bethlehem to see for ourselves was a no brainer.
We ran; we fell and stumbled, but we got up and kept going,
propelled by wonder, breathless with the fear it might not be true.
Got to Bethlehem which was heaving with folk
trying to find accommodation pre air B&B -
No room at the inn? No room anywhere, in or out!
And then we found them, down the side street,
in a cul de sac, the lights still on in the downstairs byre.
A young woman, a baby wrapped in the ordinary weave of human life.
If it hadn’t been for the angel we would have said,
“Move on. Nothing to see here.”
But there he was, crying his protests at the cruel world,
then being fed, and cuddled, and put down in the feeding trough.
Not the most promising start in life.
But we knew better. This baby was the promised Saviour.
He it was who would give others a more promising start in life.
Life more abundant, living water and living bread.
We told anyone who would listen,
about the angel and God’s peace message,
accompanied by music with full world theatre illuminations,
the lights of heaven, the hope of our people.
We stopped people and told them – Messiah is here!
Hope is born! God has spoken peace for all people.
All God’s promises are Yes in this baby!
Aye we were only shepherds, but we had stood under an open heaven.
Only shepherds, but we had gate crashed an open air angel concert.
Only shepherds, but first to be told the Messiah was born.
Only shepherds, but we had found our way to Bethlehem,
The town of David, the place of promise.
Only shepherds, but first to set eyes on the Good Shepherd,
Who came amongst us as the love of God incarnate;
Only shepherds, but that light of heaven had first burst over us
the joyous dancing of stars, angels and miraculous music.
What was it all about?
It was infinity distilled to humanity,
God’s love with a human face.
Impelled we were, to see the light of the world,
God’s gift beyond words, irradiated in a baby’s birth.
In him was life and the life was the light of all people…
and shepherds like us were the first to behold his glory,
cradled in a mother’s arms, full of grace and truth.
(c) Jim Gordon. I wrote this for our last service before Christmas, and due to Covid restrictions, our last in church service for the foreseeable future.
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