_Selma Lagerlöf_
“Once upon a time,” said my Grandmother, as we sat together one
Christmas Day when all the others had gone to church, “there was a man
who went out at night to borrow some fire. ‘Help me, kind people,’ he
said. ‘My wife has a little baby, and I must light a fire to warm her
and the child.’
“But it was very late, so everybody was asleep, and no one answered.
“The man walked farther and farther on. At last in the distance he saw
the glimmer of flames, and, going in that direction, he perceived that
the fire was burning in the open air. Around it lay sleeping a flock of
white sheep, watched by an old shepherd.
“When the man came up he saw that three large dogs also rested asleep
at the shepherd’s feet. Waking at his approach, they opened their wide
jaws as if to bark, but no sound was heard. The man saw the hair rise
on their backs and their sharp teeth glitter in the firelight as they
rushed upon him. One snapped at his legs, one at his hand, and a third
sprang at his throat. But neither jaws nor teeth would obey and the
man did not feel the smallest hurt.
“He wanted to go on that he might get what he needed. But the sheep lay
so close together that he could not move forward. So he stepped on the
animals’ backs, and walked across them to the fire. But not a single
one moved or stirred.”
“Why didn’t they move, Grandmother?” I asked.
“You will find out in a little while,” answered Grandmother, and kept
on with the story.
“When the man had almost reached the fire the shepherd looked up. He
was a surly old man, cross and disagreeable to everybody. So when he
saw the stranger, he caught up the long, pointed staff he carried in
his hand while he was watching the flock, and hurled it at him. The
stick flew straight at the man, but before it struck him, turned aside
and whizzed far over the field.”
Here I interrupted again. “Grandmother, why didn’t the stick hit the
man?” But she went on without answering.
“Then the man said to the shepherd, ‘Good friend, aid me by letting me
have a little fire. My wife has an infant child and I need it to warm
them both.’
“The shepherd would gladly have refused, but when he thought that his
dogs had not been able to hurt the man, that the sheep had not run from
him, and his staff would not strike him, he felt a little afraid, and
did not dare to do so.
“‘Take as much as you need,’ he said.
“But the fire was almost out. There were no branches or brands, only a
heap of glowing embers, and the stranger had nothing in which he could
put the coals.
“The shepherd saw this and was glad because the man could get no fire.
But the stranger stooped down, took the coals from the ashes with his
hands, and put them in his cloak. And the coals neither scorched his
hands nor singed his cloak. The man carried them away as if they were
nuts or apples.”
Here I interrupted a third time, “Grandmother, why wouldn’t the coals
burn the man?”
“You will soon hear,” she replied, and went on.
“When the shepherd, who was a sullen, bad-tempered man, saw all these
things, he began to wonder: ‘What kind of night is this when the dogs
do not bite, the sheep feel no fear, the lance does not kill, and fire
does not burn?’ He called to the stranger, asking: ‘Why is it that all
things show mercy upon you?’
“‘I cannot tell you if you do not see for yourself,’ said the man, and
went away to light the fire for his wife and child.
“But the shepherd wanted to find out what all this meant, so he
followed him and discovered that the man did not even have a hut to
live in, only a sort of cavern with bare stone walls.
“The shepherd thought the poor little child might be chilled, and
though he was a harsh man, he pitied and wanted to help it. So he gave
the stranger a soft white sheepskin, and told him to put the child in
it.
“But the very moment he showed that he, too, could be merciful, his
eyes were opened and he saw and heard what he had neither seen nor
heard before.
“He saw a dense circle of silver-winged angels, each with a harp in
his hand, and all singing that on this night was born the Saviour, who
would redeem the world from its sin.
“Then the shepherd understood why on this night all creatures were so
happy that they did not desire to harm anything.
“The angels were not only around the shepherd, but he saw them
everywhere. They were in the cave, on the mountains, and flying under
the sky. They came in throngs along the way, and, as they passed,
stopped and gazed at the child.
“There were joy and happiness and mirth and singing, and he saw all
this amid the darkness of the night, where he had formerly seen and
heard nothing. And he was so happy that his eyes were opened--that he
fell on his knees and thanked God.”
Then Grandmother sighed, saying, “But what the shepherds saw, we could
see, too, for the angels are flying over the earth every Christmas Eve,
if we could only see them.”
And Grandmother laid her hand on my head, adding, “Remember this, for
it is as true as that I see you and you see me. It does not depend upon
candles and lamps, or on the moon and sun, but what we need is eyes to
behold the glory of God.”
[22] By permission of “Good Housekeeping.” Translated expressly for
this magazine from the Christ Legends of Selma Lagerlöf.