O Little Town of Bethlehem
The little town of Bethlehem lay quiet, engulfed in a deep and dreamless sleep.
The few who might have been awake simply embraced the silence, watching the shooting stars, kneeling and praying to a God who’d been silent for centuries.
Indeed, the town was silent, the bustle of the day long forgotten. A soft wind caused the dust to dance, but even the chill seemed to agree that quiet nights are to be cherished.
A quiet night does not mean a peaceful night, thought the woman who looked over the village from the top of a nearby hill.
The woman pulled her white shawl and cloak closer, feeling the cold working its way through the gaps. In truth, she’d never formally met any of the town’s inhabitants, but she knew them, perhaps better than she knew herself. She knew their wants, their fears, their desires, their dreams.
She knew their prayers were heard, for she wouldn’t exist if they weren’t, but she also couldn’t deny the undercurrent of pain. The pang of justice lost, the ache of a longing deferred.
She stood as a sentry, watching the town, her robe shimmering in the moonlight.
From her perch, she could see everything; she could see the mother in the fourth house down asleep and shivering with her husband after they’d given their blanket to their children; she could see a young man tossing and turning in his bed, rife with worry; she could see a young woman struggle to tend a fire; she could see an old man begging the Lord of Hosts for David’s kingdom to be restored.
For years, night after night, from this very spot, unseen by the town below, she watched, unsure of her purpose. She somehow knew she existed for these people, but even the nature of her own existence remained shrouded.
Her heart quietly groaned in harmony with Bethlehem, and along with the rest of the village, she wondered how long she could continue this way.
The town remained asleep, and for awhile she stayed in a daze of her own, but just when the night was at its stillest and darkest, the silence broke.
A man approached, leading the way for his wife who rested on a donkey.
The donkey shuffled along consistently as the man whispered affirmations to both the beast and his wife, who breathed heavily, her pregnant body preparing for labor.
The cloaked woman’s eyes narrowed on this couple. Many newcomers had journeyed to Bethlehem over the past few weeks; Caesar had conscripted the empire into a census registration in which, for taxing purposes, each family had to temporarily travel back to their own town of birth.
She’d seen all sorts of people come and go, and indeed, she’d even seen other women with child, but for this woman on this donkey with this husband, something was different.
The woman’s belly emanated a glow. Though she knew nobody in the village, not even the pregnant woman herself could perceive this glow with natural eyes, the cloaked woman knew what she saw.
And in the glow of the newcomer’s arrival, she saw someone else standing in the road directly in the path of the man, woman, and donkey.
A tall, pale, sickly man in a black cloak with a black shawl stared directly at the couple, who remained oblivious to both this man’s presence and that of the woman on the hilltop.
Without thinking, the cloaked woman leapt to the village below and sprinted towards the couple.
She stopped short, a mere ten paces behind the donkey, which had stopped while the husband peered down the different streets to decide which direction to take his wife.
The cloaked man in black began to laugh.
Though the couple couldn’t hear the man, they did shiver at the same time.
The pregnant woman said, “Yosef, it’s late. Do you think we’ll find a place to stay? It’s so cold…I don’t think the baby can survive if we stay on the street.”
The man in black held up his hand, and a ball of shadow jumped from his palm and landed on Yosef’s shoulder.
Yosef said, “I don’t know where to go…” He hesitated, almost in a trance.
The woman in white yelled, “No! You’re here in town now. You’ll find a place.”
He blinked himself out of the trance and smiled. Though the woman in white knew he couldn’t hear her, she realized that her words somehow made a difference. Yosef said, “We’ll find a place, dear Miriam. Do not lose heart.”
The man in black sidestepped, and Yosef led the donkey and Miriam forward. The man looked at the woman in white and said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
She hesitated for a moment and said, “I should ask you the same thing. I can see everyone in this town, but I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’ve seen you stand on that hilltop, and you’ve stayed out of my way so far. I suggest you return to your spot and leave me be.”
“No. I don’t know where you came from or how you even entered Bethlehem, but I’m here for the people. I keep watch for the people. And I know this is not your home.”
“I’ve been here for hundreds of years. Bethlehem has been my home for far earlier than when your watch began.”
She paused, considering this. Though she hadn’t ever seen him before, she also hadn’t entered Bethlehem before; something about his words and his stance signaled to her that he was telling the truth.
“Even so,” she said, her voice a little quieter, “I cannot walk away.”
“Refuse me not, stranger. You know nothing, yet you’ve eagerly dove into my domain. Tread lightly; Bethlehem is mine.”
She tilted her head and paused for a moment. “Maybe the town does belong to you. Or maybe it did. But not now.”
“You cannot stop me. Leave now.” The hooded man in black pointed back to her hill.
She smiled. “I don’t think so. If you could destroy me, I think you would’ve by now. The hearts and dreams of this village are tangled inextricably with my very essence. My connection with them has only grown since this couple’s coming. I think I’ll stay with them for awhile.”
The man in black scowled but said no more. The couple walked along the village’s thoroughfare. As they walked, the man blew a mist over them, and they shivered.
“I’m cold,” said Miriam, shaking.
“Me too,” admitted Yosef. “It’s late. I hope the innkeeper doesn’t sleep.”
The woman in white said, “Don’t worry. You’ll get there.” She touched Miriam’s shoulder.
Miriam didn’t hear or feel the woman, but she did smile. “It’ll be alright, Yosef. I know it will be.”
He nodded as they continued along. “I know, Miriam. I know. We traveled all this way…what’s a little more? I’m just concerned for our little one. How are you feeling?”
“Ready,” she answered, almost a whisper. “I don’t think I will sleep until after I’ve held him in my arms.”
The woman in white looked around and realized she could no longer see the man in black. Where’d he slip away to? she wondered.
As the couple and their donkey continued, the woman in white kept encouraging them. She didn’t know how, but she knew her words had power, as if their spirits had ears.
Yosef and Miriam talked and laughed the whole exhausting way across town, but finally they approached the inn.
The woman in white’s eyes widened as she saw the man in black standing next to the door frame.
Yosef left his wife on the donkey, stepped up, and knocked on the door several times.
The man blew his mist on Yosef, and his knocking slowed. Yosef looked back at Miriam, his smile beginning to droop.
The woman in white touched Miriam’s shoulder and whispered encouragement. Miriam perked up and said, “Try again, Yosef. They’ll let us right in, I know they will. Please keep trying. For me.”
He nodded and knocked once more. He cried out, “Shalom! Shalom!”
The man in black reached out to touch Yosef, but with every swipe, his hands were deflected by a kind of invisible shield.
He can’t touch them, thought the woman in white. They’re protected. She cried, “Keep trying! Keep trying!”
The woman in white threw out her hand towards Yoself, and an almost-invisible tendril of cloud stretched out all the way to touch Yosef’s chest. He knocked even louder, his yell stirring the sleepy town.
The door finally opened to a man—tall, bulky, wrapped in a thick brown tunic. The man said, “Friend, why do you cry ‘shalom’? According to the wisdom of King Solomon, a loud blessing late at night shall be counted as a curse.”
“I believe he said so about early in the morning, not late at night,” Yosef countered.
The innkeeper scowled. “Why do you bother me?”
Yosef said, “Is this not the inn?”
“It is.”
“Are you not the innkeeper?”
“I am.”
The man in black put one hand on the back of the innkeeper’s head. The innkeeper’s expression hardened.
Yosef continues, “We need a room right away.”
“No,” the innkeeper said, unmoving.
“Please, sir. My wife is with child, and she’ll have the baby any moment now.” He motioned back to Miriam on the donkey.
“She seems fine to me,” the innkeeper said.
“We need a room. Now. We’re here to be registered…surely you prepared more rooms than normal for travelers, yes?”
“Yes, but even so, all rooms are in use. There’s no room.”
“My wife is having this baby tonight. Would you really prefer her to give birth in town square, in sight of all, in the cold of night? I assure you, that’ll be louder than my knocking.”
The woman in white’s power didn’t seem to touch the innkeeper, so she rushed forward and tried to touch him. The man in black smiled, and as she touched the innkeeper, a surge of power blasted the woman in white several meters away. She slid in the dirt. The donkey looked down at her, but Miriam was still oblivious to her and the man in black’s presence.
The man in black said, “See my power.”
He squeezed the innkeeper’s neck, but instead of choking, the big man started to shiver. The innkeeper said, “I wish I could help, but I really can’t. There’s nothing I can do.”
The woman in white stood and looked at the innkeeper; she’d observed him before, and she knew his heart was shrouded in loss, sadness, and darkness. Until this moment, she hadn’t understood, but now she saw what a grip the man in black had on him.
The woman in white yelled, “There must be a way! Ask again, please keep trying!” Though she didn’t quite know why, she knew this baby was important, and its safety was paramount.
Yosef said, “Please, sir. Where else can we go? Is there another inn? Surely you have room somewhere.”
The man in black laughed. The woman in white stepped closer and peered deeper into the innkeeper’s heart.
He felt alone. Ignored. Ashamed of the legacy of Bethlehem, barely a shadow of its former glory. How far had the city of David fallen…a place once the birthplace of a king now slept like a baby having a nightmare.
She knew from his heart and from the hearts of the rest of the town that Bethlehem was small, insignificant, powerless.
And another emotion creeped into the innkeeper, a shadow from the man in back’s breath. Shame wracked the innkeeper, though he forced himself to stand still.
He looked tough, but on the inside, he hated himself for turning Yosef away. He hated that he was as powerless as the village itself, useless to even the most vulnerable, a woman with child.
The innkeeper said, “I’m sorry, but there is no room. You must leave.”
The door slammed.
Yosef returned to Miriam in tears. “I tried, really I tried.”
“I know, my husband. I know.”
“How are you feeling? Any pangs?” He asked.
“I’m fine for now. The pains are getting closer together. We don’t have much time.”
The woman in white invisibly lead the way. She cried, “We’ll find a spot! Do not lose heart.”
Miriam and Yosef still felt the effects of her words.
“I won’t lose heart,” said Yosef, barely audible to his wife.
“I know,” Miriam responded, holding the donkey tightly.
Yosef lead Miriam seemingly aimlessly through the streets. He knew there wasn’t another inn, but he wanted to find any home that could possibly have room for them.
In truth, the woman in white led the couple. She knew the residents better than anyone, and she ran from house to house trying to wake the ones most likely to help.
The man in black, however, was waiting inside each home, and no matter how loud Yosef knocked, the sleeping citizens would not wake as long as the cloaked man stood over their bedsides.
After several tries, the woman in white sighed. “This isn’t working.”
She knew they were quickly running out of time. She knew that in less than an hour, the child’s time could be complete. Would he come greeted by the bitter chill of the desolate streets? Could a child—or even a mother—survive such a setting?
The woman in white began to pace as Yosef and Miriam wandered aimlessly.
“Yosef, we’ve been all over the city. I don’t know what options we have.” She groaned with a sudden pain.
Yosef also paced, but his eyes remained on his wife and her donkey. He stopped, walked up to her, and touched Miriam’s pregnant belly.
He prayed, “Lord of Hosts, hear us now. We need your shelter. Let us dwell in your shadow.”
As he prayed, the woman in white glowed brighter, as did Miriam’s belly. And the woman in white saw another light coming from a further hillside.
She pointed to it and yelled, “There! There! Look!”
Yosef said, “Wait, I think I have an idea.” He looked towards the hill and smiled.
The woman in white touched his shoulder, and for a brief moment, she saw into his memories. Yosef, a young boy exploring Bethlehem, stumbled upon cave just outside the village. A cave filled with animals…
Miriam said, “What is it, Yosef?”
“I just remembered. I know at least where we can find shelter. If it’s still there. It’s not much, but it’ll be better than here. Can you wait just a few more minutes on the donkey?”
She nodded. “I think so, but not any longer than that.”
“Let’s go.” He lead the donkey as fast as he could, and the woman in white walked ahead of them, helping find the quickest path.
I can’t believe I didn’t know about that cave, thought the woman in white. It was the opposite side of Bethlehem from her hillside perch, just beyond her prior sight. But now, she knew it would prove to be the most important spot in all the region, if not the world.
They rounded a corner around the last house and a small hill with the cave came in sight.
Yosef cried, “It’s still there! We’ll make it!”
The man in black appeared on the path just between them and the cave. “How did you know of this place?” he demanded.
The woman in white said, “I didn’t, Yosef did. Actually, it was the Lord of Hosts who gave us the idea.”
“Impossible,” the man in black said. “I see the dreams of this town. The shame, the torment. The Lord does not hear their prayers. He is silent to their disappointment.”
“No longer,” the woman in white declared.
“It’s still a difficult walk up,” the man in black said. “You still won’t make it in time.” He threw his hand out and a tentacle of thin black smoke shot out and touched the minds of both Miriam and Yosef. “There is not reason to continue. Stop here.”
Miriam groaned. “Yosef, I don’t feel well. We need to stop here.”
Yosef said, “I don’t know…if we can make it. I’m sorry.”
The woman in white cried, “You can, you can!”
Miriam said, “It’s a cave for animals, isn’t it? No place for a baby.”
The black tentacle twisted around her more tightly.
The woman in white first jumped to Yosef. The moment she touched him, his connection with the man in black was broken.
She held his spirit tightly and said, “It’s not too late, Yosef. Believe. For your wife and son, believe and take heart. Take courage; you’re almost there.”
Yosef said, “There will be room, my wife. The boy will be safe, I promise.”
“I’m in too much pain,” she replied. “I can’t stay on this beast.”
He helped her off the donkey, unaware of the darkness choking her spirit. “Lean on me, my wife. One step at a time, and we’ll be there.”
“It’s too far.”
The woman in white tried freeing Miriam as she’d done with Yosef, but the shadows were too strong.
The man in black cackled. “This town is mine, as is this woman and her child.”
The woman in white touched Yosef’s mind again, looked through his memories, and she saw something that made her smile return—something which Yosef and Miriam had used to take heart during their long journey.
She whispered in Yosef’s ear, bringing the memory to the surface, and his eyes grew wide, and he chuckled.
“Miriam, remember our psalm. Our favorite. I say one line, you say the next, and I promise we’ll be there before the psalm is done.”
She said nothing, but Yosef began:
“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High
Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”
Miriam smiled and said:
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress;
My God, in Him I will trust.”
The shadowy tentacle exploded at her words, and the man in black stumbled to the ground.
Yosef said:
“Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler
And from the perilous pestilence.”
Miriam said,
“He shall cover you with His feathers,
And under His wings you shall take refuge;
His truth shall be your shield and buckler.”
Yosef said,
“You shall not be afraid of the terror by night,
Nor of the arrow that flies by day,"
Miriam said,
“Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness,
Nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.”
With each line, they drew closer and closer to the cave. They could hear the braying of animals within, and Miriam ignored the waves of pain.
Yosef continued:
“A thousand may fall at your side,
And ten thousand at your right hand;
But it shall not come near you.”
Almost there, thought Miriam, and she said:
“Only with your eyes shall you look,
And see the reward of the wicked.
Because you have made the Lord, who is my refuge,
Even the Most High, your dwelling place,
No evil shall befall you,
Nor shall any plague come near your dwelling;”
A stone covered the cave’s opening. While pushing it aside, Yosef said:
“For He shall give His angels charge over you,
To keep you in all your ways.
In their hands they shall bear you up,
Lest you dash your foot against a stone.
You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra,
The young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot.”
As they entered and made Miriam a bed of straw, she said:
“Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him;
I will set him on high, because he has known My name.”
Together, Yosef and Miriam said:
“He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble;
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life I will satisfy him,
And show him My salvation.”
Outside the cave, the woman in white beamed with joy. The couple was settling in, and soon the sounds of childbirth began.
The man in black stomped over to the woman in white. “Get out of my region. This is my domain, and you’ve trespassed long enough.”
She laughed. “Don’t you see you’ve lost? The child will be born whether you like it or not.”
“A lot can go wrong in childbirth, especially when the mother is in a stable. My grip on this town is stronger than you know.”
The woman stood her ground. “I don’t know who you are, but your time ruling this place is over.”
The man in black levitated from the ground in a whirlwind of shadow and proclaimed, “I am Fear! The fears of all the years… I am the longstanding darkness you felt in each of the villagers. My hold runs deep, deep.”
The woman in white shined bright and also floated by twisting ropes of light. “I am Hope! The hopes of all the years…I am every person’s prayer, every child’s glimpse at the stars, every man and woman’s longing for the Messiah’s coming. My hold runs deeper still.”
Fear attacked Hope, and they struggled, wrestling in the dust, every stab of dark deflected by blades of light. They fought and fought until Fear stood upon Hope.
Hope lay still, fatigued, but undoubting. Fear raised his arms and weapons of death to strike his final blow, but Hope simply smiled.
“I win,” she said.
Fear paused, confused, but he raised his weapons once more. Before he could bring them down, a sound cut through the night air.
The cries of a newborn baby.
Fear was frozen.
Far off, Hope could hear an angelic messenger declare “Fear not” to stunned shepherds many hills away.
She smiled and said the same. “Fear not.”
Light from the cave burst out like a comet and collided with Fear, disintegrating him in a cloud of stardust.
Hope stood and noticed that with the absence of Fear, her skin and clothing shined even brighter. She rose to the sky and found her new watch-post among the stars.
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Thank you for reading my Christmas story for 2021! It’s become a tradition for me to write a fantasy Christmas short story based on a Christmas carol. If you liked “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” you can also check out “I Saw Three Ships” and “The Friendly Beasts.” Also, if you haven’t seen it yet, I have a video for my Christmas spoken word poem “The Word.” If you like any of these stories, I invite you to spread the Christmas cheer and share it with a friend!
