late.”
“It’s very late,” the man said with a yawn. “You can come in.”
As the door closed behind us, I exhaled and looked around. The only light inside was from a dim lamp held by the man, which he placed on a low table. After the brightness of the night sky, the house was dark and shadowy. At the same time, it was clearly not a palace. I felt a mixture of disappointment—surely we were mistaken in our destination—and confidence. For once, city-born scholars Caspar and Hasin were in foreign territory, with no idea how to speak to this rough-haired laborer, while I felt instantly at home.
Having allowed us entry, the man now seemed to decide he should embrace us as his guests. I was amused by the awkwardness of my companions, but when the man reached for me, I apologized for my bad hand.
“I wove rugs for many years, until an accident—”
The man’s eyes brightened with recognition, sparkling in the dimness, as he revealed a finger missing from his left hand. “I am a carpenter,” he said. He gestured for us to sit. “What leads a rug maker and his friends into the streets so late in the night?”
“Since my accident—even before it—I have studied the stars,” I said. “My friends and I are magi. We come from a land east of Israel, where we study stars for our king.”
“How does this bring you to Bethlehem? What is this direction you said you needed? Are you lost?”
I swallowed. The time had come. We were face-to-face with a man who could determine the success of our journey. My heart pounded faster than it had when we faced Herod with the same questions. “Could I perhaps trouble you for that cup of water?”
The man rose, apologizing for forgetting our need. As he did, a woman emerged from the shadows and put her hands on the man’s shoulders, indicating that he should sit again.
“I’ll get it, Joseph,” she said. In the dark, I heard the trickling sound of water, and then she handed a cup to each of us.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a slow draught. The coolness of the water clarified the tumult in my mind, and I spoke to the two, who were watching me intently.
“Some moons ago, a new star appeared in the sky and began to move in a way stars do not move. We watch the sky for signs that tell us what may happen on earth. This star was certainly a sign of something important.
“Perhaps you know the Hebrew prophecies of a king being foretold by a star? That’s how we have come to understand this star. And so we have followed the star in the direction it led, and tonight it seemed to lead us directly to your home.”
There was silence. I looked around the room. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and now I saw that though the windows were covered, light from the star seeped in at every crack, like little stars in a dark sky. The silence continued, but the man and woman looked out at the light. Caspar cleared his throat. “We are not drunk as you may suppose—”
“No,” the man said slowly. “No, I do not suppose that you are. This star—you have followed it?”
“As it has moved across the sky.”
“Looking for a king?”
“Yes.” I took another drink. “Can you give us any direction?”
Joseph turned to look at his wife. I could not see his face, but I could see hers, urging him to trust, to tell, to believe. Her smile was that of a little girl who has been happily surprised once again. “I think you have come to the right place,” he said simply.
My heart began to pound, and I felt Caspar and Hasin flutter behind me.
“It is you who may doubt us,” the man added.
“Please tell us all you can.”
An incredible story poured forth, one that made ours sound commonplace. Angel visitations, virgin fullness, joy and sorrow, dreams and resolutions, promises, panic and pain—a child—squalor and shepherds, glory and—
“God,” the woman said, forming the sound lovingly, reverently. “God chose me.” A giggle escaped her lips, a spring of joy
“It’s very late,” the man said with a yawn. “You can come in.”
As the door closed behind us, I exhaled and looked around. The only light inside was from a dim lamp held by the man, which he placed on a low table. After the brightness of the night sky, the house was dark and shadowy. At the same time, it was clearly not a palace. I felt a mixture of disappointment—surely we were mistaken in our destination—and confidence. For once, city-born scholars Caspar and Hasin were in foreign territory, with no idea how to speak to this rough-haired laborer, while I felt instantly at home.
Having allowed us entry, the man now seemed to decide he should embrace us as his guests. I was amused by the awkwardness of my companions, but when the man reached for me, I apologized for my bad hand.
“I wove rugs for many years, until an accident—”
The man’s eyes brightened with recognition, sparkling in the dimness, as he revealed a finger missing from his left hand. “I am a carpenter,” he said. He gestured for us to sit. “What leads a rug maker and his friends into the streets so late in the night?”
“Since my accident—even before it—I have studied the stars,” I said. “My friends and I are magi. We come from a land east of Israel, where we study stars for our king.”
“How does this bring you to Bethlehem? What is this direction you said you needed? Are you lost?”
I swallowed. The time had come. We were face-to-face with a man who could determine the success of our journey. My heart pounded faster than it had when we faced Herod with the same questions. “Could I perhaps trouble you for that cup of water?”
The man rose, apologizing for forgetting our need. As he did, a woman emerged from the shadows and put her hands on the man’s shoulders, indicating that he should sit again.
“I’ll get it, Joseph,” she said. In the dark, I heard the trickling sound of water, and then she handed a cup to each of us.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a slow draught. The coolness of the water clarified the tumult in my mind, and I spoke to the two, who were watching me intently.
“Some moons ago, a new star appeared in the sky and began to move in a way stars do not move. We watch the sky for signs that tell us what may happen on earth. This star was certainly a sign of something important.
“Perhaps you know the Hebrew prophecies of a king being foretold by a star? That’s how we have come to understand this star. And so we have followed the star in the direction it led, and tonight it seemed to lead us directly to your home.”
There was silence. I looked around the room. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and now I saw that though the windows were covered, light from the star seeped in at every crack, like little stars in a dark sky. The silence continued, but the man and woman looked out at the light. Caspar cleared his throat. “We are not drunk as you may suppose—”
“No,” the man said slowly. “No, I do not suppose that you are. This star—you have followed it?”
“As it has moved across the sky.”
“Looking for a king?”
“Yes.” I took another drink. “Can you give us any direction?”
Joseph turned to look at his wife. I could not see his face, but I could see hers, urging him to trust, to tell, to believe. Her smile was that of a little girl who has been happily surprised once again. “I think you have come to the right place,” he said simply.
My heart began to pound, and I felt Caspar and Hasin flutter behind me.
“It is you who may doubt us,” the man added.
“Please tell us all you can.”
An incredible story poured forth, one that made ours sound commonplace. Angel visitations, virgin fullness, joy and sorrow, dreams and resolutions, promises, panic and pain—a child—squalor and shepherds, glory and—
“God,” the woman said, forming the sound lovingly, reverently. “God chose me.” A giggle escaped her lips, a spring of joy
Similar Books
