A Christmas in Time

It all started when the posts began to follow one after the other. You know, like the old-school “Burma Shave” signs:

Stop.

Before.

It’s.

Too Late.

I thought it must be a prank. But I scrolled on.

Get.

Ready.

For.

It.

That was weird. But the posts kept going.

Stop.

Wasting.

Your.

Time.

It doesn’t seem possible, but I swear it happened. Then the posts demanded that I…

Close.

The.

App.

Now!

I closed the app. My phone rang. Unidentified number. I answered, “Hello?”

A recording said, “To proceed, press one. To go back to wasting your life, hang up.”

After several long seconds, I pressed one. My phone began to vibrate. The sound transitioned to a polytonal whirring which grew almost deafening. Then I was surrounded by a shimmering blue-violet light. The next thing I knew, everything was silent. The room was gone. I was no longer staring at my phone. It didn’t exist. Right in front of me stood a figure in a white robe with what seemed to be blue fringes. Maybe that was the light coming from the pure white of the robe? The figure couldn’t have been real, yet there it stood, more striking than anyone I’ve ever seen, yet I still can’t describe it. It was tall and…quietly confident…that’s a good word. I’m certain about that much. It had no need to brag or show off. It just…was. But was its complexion fair or dark? What color was its hair? Were its eyes blue, green, brown, or steel grey? Was it male or female? I just don’t know! It seems to me his or her voice was not of this world, nor was the feeling I had in its presence.

I was alone in a room, or more accurately, in a seemingly infinite space, with an unknown presence. I was no longer in charge, like I thought I was when I scrolled through post after post. My pride went the way of my phone. I couldn’t speak or cry for help. God knows, I tried. After a few minutes, it was the presence who broke the silence.

An ineluctable voice declared, “All is not lost. You have chosen to proceed. You are to be a part of the story,” but I don’t know if these words were spoken or were planted in my mind.

After a minute, I found enough courage to reply, “What story?”

“THE story,” the voice said.

“The story of what?” I asked, sheepishly.

The voice was jubilant, “The story of renewal. The story of a young woman who believed.”

“Believed what?” I’m ashamed to say at this point I still had no clue.

The voice, undeterred, said, “She believed higher things are possible.”

“What things?” I had to ask.

“Things of the spirit. Things that are beyond time.” The presence must have thought I needed a little help, and added, “forgiveness, redemption, salvation, hope.”

“But how? Why me?” I asked.

“You and many others have roles to play,” the voice continued as a matter of fact.

“What role am I to play?” I asked.

“A minor, but significant one,” the voice remained patient.

Now the next part of the story is embarrassing, but I’m going to tell it anyhow. You know how every kid wants to play a main character in the Christmas pageant? I was foolish enough to ask, “If this is what I think it is, am I to be an innkeeper?”

“No.” The voice replied in an even tone, almost like an automated response.

“A shepherd?”

Another simple “No.”

“One of the Magi, then?” I asked.

An unwavering “No.”

“A traveler on the road?”

“No.” All the replies sounded like a recording.

“A servant?”

“No.”

“Not King Herod, I hope?”

“No.”

At last, I let go of the absurd guessing game and said, “Please tell me who I must be.”

“Now that you are ready, we shall begin,” the voice sounded neither annoyed nor condescending. I think the presence had a right to be one or the other. I felt strangely at ease, though, uncertain but somehow comforted that the presence had so much patience with me.

“Begin what?” I had to ask, even though I sensed something was already happening.

The voice replied simply, “You shall see.”

In an instant, the presence was gone. No white robe. No softly persistent voice. It was suddenly late spring. Early in the morning. An ancient village seemed to rise out of the ground. There was a young couple standing in front of me. They were dressed in robes and sandals and spoke to me in a language I didn’t recognize. The man addressed me as “Khmaarraa,”and at first, I had no idea what that meant. I felt…disembodied, not like myself at all.

Then I looked down and noticed two things: a pair of hairy nostrils…and hooves. I froze, trying not to panic. Again, speaking was out of the question. Slowly I realized that “Khmaarraa” was the man’s way of saying, “donkey.” I was indeed a donkey and apparently, I had a job to do. The Aramaic vernacular spoken by the couple soon became clear in my mind, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to speak a word of it. When I tried to talk, all I could manage was a whimper and a squeak. The man tried to comfort me as he placed a woolen blanket and couple of sacks of supplies on my back.

The man whispered in my ear, “We must reach Bethlehem by next week, my friend. I’m counting on you to be gentle with Mary. She needs you to keep your footing. Don’t worry. We’ll take our time. We all need to be brave.”

The man helped Mary climb on. Mary called him, Joseph. I was surprised by my strength. I felt like a superhero. There was no way the human version of me could carry another person on his back – for, what was it going to be, 90 miles? But the week was just getting started. It dawned on me that I had acted like a jackass in the 21^st century and now in the 1^st century I had become one. At least my new role made me responsible for something greater than myself.

“Steady, my friend,” Joseph said later. “We are making good time. I know the sun is rising higher. We will stop for water soon. Then, a little supper at nightfall. I brought some of the barley you like. And there will be grass tomorrow and hay the day after that.”

I thought…Barley. Grass. Hay. My diet for the next week. That’s assuming a week is all I’ve agreed to. What if I don’t like what donkeys eat? Didn’t the family go to Egypt too? One day at a time…

Every hour or two, Joseph carefully helped Mary to the ground so she could rest awhile. I got a little rest too, except for the fact that I still had two large packs on my back. Such is the life of a beast of burden. I figured I must get used to it. It’s a simple, straightforward job, and it must be done. All I needed to do was make it 12-13 miles a day. I could do that as a human. It would be a lesson in humility. What could go wrong?

I began to like the couple. Joseph was kind to me, and Mary prayed for my strength and wellbeing. No one had ever done that before. The first night I nuzzled Joseph after he removed the burden and the blanket. Joseph told me, “No need to thank me, my friend. You did well today. That is thanks enough.”

The first night I couldn’t sleep. Who could after being transformed into a donkey who lived 2000 years ago? I watched over the couple as they slept. Somehow, I got the feeling that someone or something was watching over me as well. I’m not used to that either.

I recalled a line from the song of Mary, “he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.” I was proud. I followed my desires – my precious feed – and not words of wisdom. And I was wasting my time. I was certain I knew everything I needed to know. How could I have been so sure?

The next day we were up at sunrise and on the road. That was the day I found my voice. We were walking in a rocky area, and I saw a snake up ahead. I stopped in my tracks and shouted out a loud bray. I now know firsthand what a donkey hears when he speaks. Joseph urged me on, but I wouldn’t move. Then he saw it too. “Stay here,” he told Mary. That brave man proceeded to strike the snake with his walking stick and scoop it off the path. He turned to me and said, “Good eye, my friend,” and stroked my neck. Mary told me she was glad they brought me and gave me a kiss on my forehead.

You know, Mary could have complained. But she never did. She prayed and sang and kept her eyes on the road ahead. It was as if she could see the end of our journey from the beginning. She had no fear that we wouldn’t make it. Joseph trudged on, carrying part of the burden on his own back. His voice encouraged me. I got the impression he would have done anything for Mary. He was a man of his word. He treated me well too. I could tell it wasn’t just because they needed me, but because he cared for animals and didn’t want me to suffer.

There is a lot to tell. The taste of the water in the Jordan River. The sights and sounds Beth Shean and Bethlehem. The climb from the Dead Sea to Jerusalem. Our view of the old city as we passed by. That was a hard two days. I did my best to make Mary’s ride easy. Being around such good people made me want to be a better donkey.

There was one dark moment. It happened late in the day before we made a right turn at the north end of the Dead Sea. Two men approached and I could tell they were not to be trusted. One of them told Joseph that if he would give them Mary, they would leave him alone. Joseph, of course, wouldn’t hear of it! The man’s companion inched closer to Mary while he threatened Joseph, “If you try to fight me, my friend will kill the woman.” I just couldn’t put up with that. When his “friend” got within a few paces of Mary, I charged the man and brayed as loud as I could, shouldering him off his feet. He got up, but then I gave him my best kick in the chest, with both back hooves! Let’s just say, I heard a few ribs crack. The man fell back, unconscious. Joseph used the distraction to swing his walking sick squarely between his attacker’s legs and then across his jaw. He wasn’t going anywhere either. We moved to a safer place for the night. I don’t know whether the men lived or died after that. I do know that I got an extra portion of barley that night and Mary hugged my neck. I could even feel the baby kicking a little, as if to tell me, “You did well.”

I don’t know if I’m ashamed that I hurt a human. I can tell you that sometimes humans act like animals and sometimes animals show more humanity than they get credit for. Joseph and Mary seemed to understand. They said they had no inkling that I was such a “smart donkey.” I only did what I felt I had to do. Maybe that’s part of the role I was called to play.

It’s interesting that while I was a donkey, I didn’t feel any of the angst or indecision that we all experience as humans in our time. I had a job to do, and I did it. There’s a lot to be said about following through and doing a simple thing well. There’s also a lot to be said about traveling with people who support you and appreciate you. On the other hand, there’s not much to be said about just getting by or amusing yourself to death on the internet. I was perhaps more alive as a donkey in the first century than many people these days. I’ll leave that to the judgement of others who are wiser than I am.

To make a long story short, we made it to Bethlehem. To have a little privacy, Mary had her baby in a stable, surrounded by other animals like me. We all watched over her, as did Joseph. That night I learned the true meaning of peace. It’s not the absence of war, but the presence of mutual support and love. There was no way any of us would have let anything bad happen to Mary or her child, Jesus. Just as Joseph held Mary and told her how much he loved her, the scene faded away and I returned to my time. I put down my stupid phone, breathed a sigh of satisfaction, and said a prayer of thanks.