Star Over Bethlehem: Christmas Stories and Poems

But she did not decide at once, she went on thinking – going over and over again those pictures she had been shown. And in doing so a curious thing happened, for she remembered little things that she had not been aware of seeing at the time. She saw, for instance, the face of the man on the right-hand cross. . . . Not an evil face, only a weak one – and it was turned towards the centre cross and on it was an expression of love and trust and adoration. . . . And it came to Mary, with sudden wonder – ‘It was at my son he was looking like that . . .’

And suddenly, sharply and clearly, she saw her son’s face as it had been when he looked down at his sleeping friends in the garden.There was sadness there, and pity and understanding and a great love . . .And she thought:‘It is the face of a good man . . .’ And she saw again the scene of accusation. But this time she looked, not at the splendid High Priest, but at the face of the accused man . . . and in his eyes was no consciousness of guilt. . . .

And Mary’s face grew very troubled.

Then the Angel said:

‘Have you made your choice, Mary? Will you spare your son suffering and evildoing?’

And Mary said slowly:

‘It is not for me, an ignorant and simple woman, to understand the High Purposes of God.The Lord gave me my child. If the Lord takes him away, then that is His will. But since God has given him life, it is not for me to take that life away. For it may be that in my child’s life there are things that I do not properly understand . . . It may be that I have seen only part of a picture, not the whole. My baby’s life is his own, not mine, and I have no right to dispose of it.’

‘Think again,’ said the Angel. ‘Will you not lay your child in my arms and I will bear him back to God?’

‘Take him in your arms if it is God’s command,’ said Mary.‘But I will not lay him there.’

There was a great rustling of wings and a blaze of light and the Angel vanished.

Joseph came in a moment later and Mary told him of what had occurred. Joseph approved of what Mary had done.

‘You did right, wife,’ he said.‘And who knows, this may have been a lying Angel.’

‘No,’ said Mary.‘He did not lie.’

She was sure of that with every instinct in her.

‘I do not believe a word of it all,’ said Joseph stoutly.‘We will bring our son up very carefully and give him good religious instruction, for it is education that counts. He shall work in the shop and go with us to the Synagogue on the Sabbath and keep all the Feasts and the Purifications.’

Looking in the manger, he said:

‘See, our son is smiling . . .’

And indeed the boy was smiling and holding out tiny hands to his mother as though to say ‘Well Done.’

But aloft in the vaults of blue, the Angel was quivering with pride and rage.

‘To think that I should fail with a foolish, ignorant, woman! Well, there will come another chance. One day when He is weary and hungry and weak . . . Then I will take him up to the top of a mountain and show him the Kingdoms of this World of mine. I will offer him the Lordship of them all. He shall control Cities and Kings and Peoples . . . He shall have the Power of causing wars to cease and hunger and oppression to vanish. One gesture of worship to me and he shall be able to establish peace and plenty, contentment and good will – know himself to be a Supreme Power for Good. He can never withstand that temptation!’

And Lucifer, Son of the Morning, laughed aloud in ignorance and arrogance and flashed through the sky like a burning streak of fire down to the nethermost depths. . . .

In the East, three Watchers of the Heavens came to their Masters and said:

‘We have seen a Great Light in the Sky. It must be that some great Personage is born.’

But whilst all muttered and exclaimed of Signs and Portents a very old Watcher murmured:

‘A Sign from God? God has no need of Signs and Wonders. It is more likely to be a Sign from Satan. It is in my mind that if God were to come amongst us, he would come very quietly....’

But in the Stable there was much fun and good company. The ass brayed, and the horses neighed and the oxen lowed, and men and women crowded in to see the baby and passed him from one to the other, and he laughed and crowed and smiled at them all.

‘See,’ they cried. ‘He loves everybody! There never was such a Child. . . .’

A Wreath for Christmas

When Mary made a Holly wreath

The blood ran red – ran red.

Another Mary wove the Thorns

That crowned her Master’s head.

But the Mistletoe was far away

Across a Western sea,

And the Mistletoe was wreathed around

A Pagan Apple Tree.

In Glastonbury grew a Thorn,

When Joseph came to trade.

And the Holly Bush was common growth

In every wooded glade.

But the Mistletoe was sacred where

The Sun arose each morn,

And the Mistletoe knew nothing of

The Babe in Bethlehem born.

Saint Patrick sailed the stormy seas

To preach the Cross – and so

He found Eve’s Tree – with serpent coiled –

And hung with Mistletoe.

‘I bid thee, Serpent, leave this Land,

And open, Plant, thine ears.’