_Florence Morse Kingsley_
In the deep valley below Bethlehem an undulating meadow stretches east
and west, its grass starred thick with blossoms in the days after the
autumn rains. The villagers call it the Field of Angels, though to some
it is known as the Place of the Star. In the days of the Cæsars the
turrets of Migdol Edar, the shepherds’ watch tower, still looked down
upon the place, though shepherds had long ceased to watch their flocks
there by night.
Six miles to the north, behind the scarred shoulders of the ravaged
hills, lay shamed and desolate Jerusalem. There was no longer a temple
therein whither the tribes of Israel could go up to praise and magnify
the name of Jehovah. Of all that great and glorious Zion there remained
only a place for wailing by a ruined wall.
But flowers bloomed again in the red tracks of the Roman armies, and
again there were little children to whom the horrors of that time of
death were only as a tale that is told between waking and sleeping.
When the sun shines in unclouded heavens, and myriads of flowers
wave in the sweet wind, and the lark floods his acres of sky with
down-dropping melody, what young thing will lament ruined temples or
yet vanished cities, be they never so glorious? And so, the children
were plucking the first flowers in the Field of Angels with shouts and
laughter.
In the dwarfed shadow of Migdol Edar sat an old man who talked with
himself in the midst of his great silver beard, his blue eyes shining
like twinkling pools amid the frosty sedge of a winter’s morning. “The
young things crop the blossoms like lambs,” he muttered, and stretched
his withered hand to gather a tuft of the white, starlike flowers. Then
he smiled to see a troop of little ones running toward him fearless as
the lambs to which he had likened them.
First came a tall girl of ten, her clear olive cheek shaded by a tangle
of curls; she held a flower-crowned baby in each hand. Behind her
lagged three or four smaller girls and half a score of boys, shyer and
more suspicious than their sisters.
“Good sir, wilt thou gather flowers in the Angel Field?” demanded the
tall girl fixing bright, questioning eyes upon the stranger.
“Thou hast said truth, maiden,” answered the old man.
“I have come from over seas to gather them. And I will also tell thee
one thing. Seest thou how many blossoms grow in this low valley? There
grows a shining thought for every flower; these also would I gather.”
The girl shook her head. “We have found no shining thoughts in this
field, honorable stranger,” she said. “Here are star flowers, and blue
lilies of Israel, and anemones purple and scarlet. There are no flowers
like those of the Angel Field. But I would that we might see the
shining things which thou hast gathered.”
“Sit ye down upon the grass, every child of you,” cried the old man,
his blue eyes beaming with delight, “and I will show you my shining
thoughts, for in truth they are fairer than the flowers which perish in
the plucking. See, child, the blue lilies of Israel how they droop and
wither, and the star flowers drop their petals like early snow; but I
will show you that which can never perish. Look you, children, I was no
taller than yon little lad--he with the scarlet tunic; and I wandered
with the shepherds in this field--which in those days was known only
as the valley of flocks--gathering flowers and minding the paschal
lambs. They strayed not far from their mothers. Great Jerusalem was in
its latter glory, and a marvelous bright star shone in the heavens.
Wise men there were who declared that the star heralded the birth of
Israel’s deliverer, He who should be King of kings and Lord even of the
Romans. The shepherds talked of these things in the night watches, and
I, folded in my father’s abba, listened between dreams.
“’Twas in this very spot we gathered on the night of which I will tell
you. My father, the head shepherd, and very learned in the Psalms and
Prophets, sat silent while the others talked softly of the flocks and
of the weather, which was uncommon mild for the time of year, and of
the pilgrims who had gathered out of all the provinces to pay tribute
to the heathen emperor. The heavens were dark save for the great star
which shamed all the rest into twinkling sparks. The young moon hung
low in the west. I saw all this from the shelter of my father’s cloak,
and was content even as the lambs which lay close to the warm hearts of
their mothers in the soft, damp grass.
“Suddenly my father lifted up his great voice. ‘The Lord is in His holy
temple: let all the earth keep silent before Him!’ So spake he, and the
others, marveling, held their peace. My young eyes were just closing in
a dream of peace, but they opened wide at sound of my father’s solemn
voice: ‘Behold I will send My messenger, and he shall prepare the way
before Me: and the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to His
temple. Behold, He shall come, saith the Lord of hosts!’
“Then did the earth swoon and tremble--or so it seemed to my young
fancy--and the light of the star on a sudden blazed forth with myriads
of sparkling rays, of all colors splendid and rare, and radiance
presently took shape to itself and became the figure of a man clad in
dazzling garments who stood over against the sleeping flocks. He spoke,
and his voice was as the voice of Jordan when he rolleth his spring
floods to the sea. Every man of the shepherds was fallen to the ground
with fright; but I lay unafraid in the shelter of my father’s cloak
and saw and heard all.
“‘Fear not,’ said the shining one, ‘for behold, I bring you good
tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is
born this day, in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the
Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the Babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’
“Then were the heavens and the silent valley and the heights of
Bethlehem filled with shining ones, who lifted up their voices in songs
the like of which never yet fell on mortal ears. ‘Glory to God in the
highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!’ The anthem rose and
fell in glorious waves of melody toward the star blazing in mid-heaven.
The voices passed singing into the silence, and the shining forms,
blent once more with the celestial rays of the star, wavered for an
instant before our dazzled eyes, and were gone.
“My father was the first to recover himself from that trance of
wonderment. ‘Let us now go even to Bethlehem,’ he said, ‘and see this
thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known to us.’
“The shepherds girt themselves to depart, and I, creeping from the warm
folds of the abba into the chill night, followed hard after them. Being
low of stature--for I was no higher than yon little lad--I saw a thing
which the others perceived not: the soft, damp grass was starred with
snowy blossoms both far and near where the feet of the angels had trod.
I lagged behind to gather of them a great handful.
“The dim light of the inn swung half-way up the rocky steep, and there
we waited in the darkness, my young heart beating loud in my ears,
whilst my father parleyed with the keeper of the gate. ‘There was no
babe within,’ the porter said, and would have shut the door fast in our
faces but that my father, being a man of authority and insisting that
it was even as he had said, presently pushed by him into the khan. And
indeed there was no babe in all the place, only pilgrims lying close to
the sleeping-lofts and their beasts which crowded the courtyards.
“I pulled my father’s sleeve and whispered to him that the angel said
we should find the Babe lying in a manger. And in truth, my children,
when presently we were come to the place where the great oxen were
housed from the winter’s cold, we found the young mother and the Babe
wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger. He, the Salvation of
Israel--the Messiah--the Desire of Nations! These eyes gazed upon Him
in His beauty. These hands touched Him as He lay asleep in the manger
nestled in His soft garments on the yellow straw.”
The tremulous voice faltered--ceased. The old man bent forward smiling,
as if once again he gazed upon the world’s Savior asleep in His manger
cradle.
One of the girls laid a timid finger on the border of the pilgrim’s
cloak. “And was He--like other babies?” she asked in a low voice.
“Like other babies?” smiled the old man. “Yea, verily, little one, He
was fashioned in all points even as we are--thanks be unto Jehovah! Yet
was He unlike--so wondrous fair, so heavenly beautiful was that Babe
of Bethlehem as He lay even as an angel asleep in that humblest bed of
all the earth. The milk-white blossoms I had gathered shone faint in
the half darkness like tiny stars. I laid them at His feet and their
fragrance filled all the place as incense.”
The aged shepherd looked down at the flowers in his withered hands,
his slow tears falling upon them like holy dew. Also he murmured
strange words to which the children listened with wonder, albeit they
understood them not at all. “Behold He was in the world, and the world
was made by Him, and the World knew him not. For by Him were all
things created that are in Heaven, and that are on earth, visible and
invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or
powers. These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness.”
Then the children stole quietly away one by one, till presently they
were again at play amid the myriad blossoms of the star flower. But
the old man rested beneath the shepherds’ tower, while the shadows
lengthened across the Field of Angels.
[6] Reprinted by permission of the author and the “Ladies’ Home
Journal.”