Goodbye 2020

As the clock winds down on 2020 and we get ready for 2021, I thought I’d share a few thoughts from my foxhole. As a teacher the school year consumed me, so for much of the past few months, I simply watched as events unfolded. Here are my observations, such as they are.

We need to embrace what it means to be a culture of diversity. This necessitates a willingness to share our nation with those that view things differently. Different does not mean bad and to expect some sort of cultural homogeneity is unrealistic and unfair. Tolerance is a virtue and more of us need to exhibit it. Long ago, before we had considered forming a new nation, we championed a culture of plurality and with varying degrees of success have struggled to cultivate it. It is hard, but necessary, work. As long as we view those who are different as “the other,” we will not reach our full potential. Our Creator endowed us with choice, and all the perils it entails, we need to remember that. 

We need to eschew win at any cost politics and those that place party loyalty above serving the common good. Solving national problems requires a willingness to compromise. A successful, thriving, body politic requires a vigorous conservative and liberal wing. Each group brings something important to the work of crafting national policy. Those that hold a different political philosophy are not my enemy. We should stop punishing those politicians who willingly work across this aisle and instead reward bold initiatives that secure the best possible outcome for the most. Creative workable solutions will come from different places. Listening to others uncovers wisdom. We need solutions, not sound-bites. Successful solutions include the reality that I will not always get my way and that I may need to sacrifice some of my wealth and position in order to advance the blessings of liberty for others. 

We must invigorate the willingness to sacrifice some of what we have to lift others up. We do not lack resources. We lack a readiness to share with those that need help. We must jettison the failed idea that if only they worked hard enough, they would succeed, and instead set the conditions for uplift through equitable pay, affordable healthcare, high-quality affordable education, and the other hallmarks of a just society. And yes, this necessitates higher taxes, but that is a small price to pay for a more equitable and honorable society; a moral one that protects the weakest and most vulnerable.

We need the intellectual honesty to shun those echo-chambers which serve only to reinforce our prejudices and fail to educate. Those platforms which merely enflame and propagandize the faithful believers serve no useful purpose in crafting a thriving society. We need calm thoughtful voices that open windows to new vistas, ones that at times challenge our sacred cows but that ultimately lead us on to a better reality. In reality, those sources that work to reinforce a narrow set of thoughts mitigate against rational thought and enrich those who damage our republic. We should not haunt their platforms and generate their income. 

We need to relearn the lesson of good sportsmanship hammered out on dusty playgrounds and weedy sports fields. We should respect and honor a well-played game but abjure pettiness that leads to acrimony and distracts from solving the problems at hand. When we lose, we take our lumps, dust ourselves off, and move on to what’s next. None of us always win and how we handle defeat reveals the quality of our character, good or ill. 

Lastly, we need to spend more time in self-examination and less time criticizing others. My grandmother used to say, “Tend to your own knitting.” I understand what she meant, and I never took up knitting. Too much of our time is spent pointing the accusing finger at others, finding fault in what they think, say, or do. Perhaps, if we look in the mirror and address some of our own problems, we might spend less time tearing others down. 

I believe that, as a nation, our best days lie in front of us. The writer of Ecclesiastes reminds us that it is not through wisdom that we say the old days were better. 2020 was a challenging year, and that’s an understatement. But, if we take a deep breath and address some of the things that vex us, we will find the solutions necessary to make 2021 a better year.

Demetris' Story, Epilogue

Demetrius’ Story Epilogue

Enosh sat on the terrace, sipping a glass of wine. Years had passed since the night in the sheepfold near Bethlehem. Much had changed. Demetrius, Alter, and Timur still worked as shepherds taking care of the flocks. Enosh had given Demetrius his freedom, yet he still worked for Enosh. He still struggled with his anger, but the outbursts were fewer and further apart. He had embraced Jesus and his teachings. Alter had refused Enosh’s offer of freedom, saying that he was content with things the way they were. 

Things had improved between Enosh and Avishag as well. Enosh was not always comfortable with the changes in their relationship. She was still a very good wife, but more willing to speak her mind about things. She and Nuria had grown quite close, something that gave great pleasure to Avishag, but often proved difficult for Enosh. They seemed to enjoy sharing secrets, secrets that seemed to involve jokes at his expense. But, the joy they shared improved his life. Then there was Timur.

Timur filled the gap that a son would have filled. Enosh enjoyed teaching him about the wool business. Alter had trained him well as a shepherd and Timur had proved a very able pupil. Enosh took great pleasure in their growing relationship. Timur and Enosh enjoyed spending time together. Respectful and kind, Timur helped Enosh set aside his pain at being childless. In fact, Enosh planned on adopting him as a son. Of course, Avishag would demand the same for Nuria, something he was willing to do. They would have to discuss all the particulars. All of this because of a strange wandering Rabbi he’d never met.

Slowly, surely the teachings of Jesus seemed to infiltrate his world. He liked what he heard, though they were often strange. Forgiving one’s enemies, for example, did not seem to be practical. Alter shared the teachings in bits and pieces, as the need arose. Avishag and Nuria seemed particularly taken. And Enosh could not help but be drawn in as well. He could not deny the improvements in his own household. Indeed, things had grown much better over the past couple of years. Enosh drained his cup of the last dregs as the stars winked on. Yes, soon he’d need to speak to Avishag about adoption. 

Demetrius' Story, Step 28

Step 28

Silhouetted against a brazier full of glowing coals, Demetrius loomed over the prostrate Enosh cudgel raised, anger seething in visible waves across his face. Enosh cowered before the furious slave, his arm raised as a desperate shield. 

“Demetrius, stop,” Alter cried!

“I must, he deserves to die,” snarled Demetrius.

“Perhaps, but not for anything he’s done to you,” replied the older slave, “He’s not the best master, but he’s done nothing to you deserving death.”

“He owns slaves. That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not, and you know it. You’re still angry at your parents and former owners. Do not blame Enosh for all the wrong that’s been done to you by others. It’s not right.”

“It’s not fair,” moaned the young slave, his club dropping slightly. By now, the commotion had roused Timur who sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“No, it’s not fair. Life is not fair. The world doesn’t work right. But you cannot let your anger control you. You must learn how to forgive. If you do not learn how to forgive, then you will always be a slave…to your own anger,” said the older man.

“I never wanted to be a slave,” murmured Demetrius, the bludgeon dropping a bit more.

“We are all slaves, even Enosh. The only real choice we get is who will be our master, darkness, or light. Right now, your true owner is your dark anger. Enosh has no true control over you. Consider carefully what you do next. Will you let your anger control you or will you control it” cautioned Alter? 

With an incoherent cry, Demetrius hurled his club over the wall. It landed with an oddly hollow thud. He dropped to his knees, covering his face with his hands. Enosh slowly got up and started to say something.

“Be careful of what YOU say next Enosh. Your words and actions carry weight and will either create or destroy, your choice,” admonished Alter.

Enosh paused, turned, and stalked outside the fold without a word. Timur watched the exchange wide-eyed. 

Alter walked over, placing a gentle hand on Demetrius’ shoulder, “Come, get some sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow.” Without a word, Demetrius heaved himself to his feet, shambled over to the lean-to, and collapsed on his pallet. Quiet soon enveloped the fold.

Demetrius' Story, Step 27

Step 27

Demetrius seethed. The day started well enough, for a slave. Demetrius enjoyed the colder weather. Being a shepherd provided easy access to wool. He, and Alter, were able to trade raw wool for thicker cloaks, making the cool nights much more bearable. Then, late in the morning, Enosh arrived with a new slave. The new slave was a mere youth. His name was Timur, and Enosh planned on leaving him to help with the growing flock. It was evident that Enosh liked Timur. He gave him the best portions at mealtime and talked to him as if he were a favorite son. Demetrius resented the preferential treatment. He’d worked well for Enosh and believed that he deserved consideration instead of this new…interloper. Enosh’s presence put Demetrius in an awkward position.

He had been giving serious consideration to running away. He felt sure that he could join himself to a passing caravan and work his way back to his home. What he would do once he returned, he did not know, but he did want to try. Enosh’s arrival threw his plans into disarray. Soon, fewer caravans would pass through, making an escape problematic. Though their frequency would grow again in the spring. The more he thought, the greater his anger and frustration. He focused all of his stored up rage at Enosh. If he could just get rid of Enosh, he might just get away. He would have to act quickly.

Demetrius gently shook Alter, whispering, “Alter, wake up.”

Alter grunted and slowly sat up.

“Shhss, don’t wake Enosh,” Demetrius whispered, “We need to talk.”

Waking quickly, Alter asked, “What is it?”

Without preamble or explanation, Demetrius whispered, “I’m running away. Come with me. Two are better than one.”

Alter paused, “No, I cannot. I owe my master.”

“Enosh?! He’s a jerk,” alleged Demetrius.

“No, not Him. My real master,” replied Alter.

“Not more of that savior, great shepherd, talk. Now is not the time,” whispered Demetrius fiercely.

“Now is exactly the time,” said Alter, “This will determine what kind of man you will be for the rest of your life.” Suddenly, without any noise, Enosh loomed out of the darkness and grabbed at Demetrius. Dodging to the right, Demetrius stuck out his foot and tripped Enosh. Stumbling forward into the low stone wall with a thud, Enosh fell to the ground stunned. Demetrius raised his hardened cudgel to finish his tormentor off.

“Demetrius don’t,” shouted Alter!

Demetrius paused, club raised and chest heaving from exertion and excitement. 

Demetrius' Story, Step 26

Step 26

Demetrius considered his options. He did not believe that he could continue to remain the property of Enosh, or any other man for that matter. As a gentile, Enosh was under no compunction to free him. A few lucky slaves could earn their freedom through diligence and good service. No such possibility was open to him. He knew that if he continued to work for Enosh, sooner or later his anger would get the best of him…probably sooner. His thoughts returned to running away, a perilous course of action.

“Demetrius, what are you thinking?”

Demetrius glanced over to the older shepherd, wondering if he should tell him of his plans, “I was thinking of the future.”

“Near or far?”

“I’m not sure,” Demetrius mused.

“Be careful, Demetrius,” Alter replied, “Do not do anything rash, something you might regret.”

“I regret this life.”

“Yes, but here you are not a fugitive. Here you have food, shelter, honorable work, a place. If you run away, you will have nothing,” Alter said.

“I know, but I don’t believe that I can serve Enosh any longer. He’s a bad master,” muttered Demetrius angrily.

“I know, but if you would accept Jesus as your master Enosh’s issues would not trouble you so. You would see things in a different light,” said Alter.

“You make it sound so simple, old man,” replied Demetrius wryly, “How can I trust this craftsman turned into a teacher you talk about. Didn’t you say he was crucified for his teachings? That doesn’t say much for his teachings or reputation.”

“No, it doesn’t. But all the same, he’s a better master.”

“Alter! Demetrius! How do you fare?” 

Alter and Demetrius turned and saw Enosh waving at them from the small limestone studded rise just to the east. As they stared a small youth topped the rise and stood with Enosh.

“I did not expect him for a few more days,” muttered a shocked Demetrius.

“Nor I,” added an equally shocked Alter, “Nor I.”

Demetrius' Story, Step 25

Step 25

Avishag felt great peace, unexpected, and perplexing. Initially, she’d resented the presence of Nuria. She had never wanted a servant. She wondered, was Enosh somehow displeased with how she conducted household affairs? Did he want her to be more efficient? She dared not ask him. He’d become short-tempered and uncommunicative. Whatever the case, Avishag found Nuria pleasant and obedient. She completed the chores Avishag assigned quickly and without complaint. Slowly, without fanfare, bit by bit, step by step, Nuria and Avishag developed a relationship, one that seemed to provide both of them deep-seated contentment. A gentle spirit settled over the house. Avishag and Nuria enjoyed long companionable conversations as they took care of the household needs. She and Nuria learned about each other during these long exchanges.

“So, you are from a small hamlet near Jericho?”

“Yes,” Nuria replied, “Our parents belonged to a merchant there.”

“And were you treated harshly?”

“Not really. As little children not much was expected of us. Light housekeeping mostly,” said Nuria, “But there was not enough work for us as we got older. The steward recommended that we be sold off when we became old enough to start doing real work. Our owner agreed. He wanted to make a profit before we consumed too much food.”

Nuria’s matter of fact tone of voice surprised Avishag, “What did your mother think?”

“Well, she told us to be brave and pray for a good master,” Nuria said thoughtfully, “But I could tell that she was very sad. I think I heard her crying as we left. I guess that was very hard for our mother. But of course, you know that will eventually happen when you are a slave.”

“You don’t seem to resent it,” said an astonished Avishag.

“Well, God answered my prayer. He sent me to a nice home with a good master,” answered Nuria, her head bent over some lentils she was sorting. The little stones she picked rattled on the table, as she sorted the lentils for supper. The ensuing quiet weighed heavily on Avishag.

“Poor dear child,” she said, reaching out to gently stroke Nuria’s glossy black hair.

“My mother used to do that,” said Nuria quietly, looking up and gracing Avishag with a slight smile.

Avishag quickly turned away in order to hide the sudden, hot tears that trickled down her face.

Demetrius' Story, Step 24

Step 24

Enosh paused while stacking bales of wool, and watched Timur work, making bales out of the raw fleeces piled on one side of the room. He wiped the gathered sweat from his forehead with a small scrap of cloth and rested. Despite his status as a slave, Timur devoted himself to his labors. Enosh appreciated his young charges willingness to work hard at the tasks assigned. He worked hard and he worked with an equanimity that seemed beyond his years. Enosh found Timur had a joyful sense of humor. He and Nuria often laughed together in the cool of evening after the day’s chores had ended. Enosh wondered how they could face life as slaves and still laugh. They seemed to take pleasure in doing a job well, finding satisfaction in little things. As he watched, he noticed that Timur still struggled to get the binding twine tight.

“Here let me show you again,” Enosh interrupted, “When you pull the twine tight, give it another twist. The friction will hold it long enough for you to make the cross tie. It takes that extra twist to make it work.”

“Like this,” Timur copied Enosh’s example with surprising skill?

“Yes, exactly.”

“Thank you,” the young boy seemed very pleased with the neater bundle.

“You’re welcome,” Enosh replied, surprised that he too felt pride at the youth’s success. That was another thing. He found that he enjoyed working with Timur. Timur was not surly or a complainer. He paid attention, accepted instruction, and took pride in a job well done. He was not like any slave that Enosh had known. He was singular…well almost singular.

Enosh thought of Alter. Alter and Timur were similar in their quiet demeanor and careful attention to detail. But there was a difference. Though Alter was completely competent and trustworthy, he carried a deep emotional wound, one that occasionally showed itself in a flash of dark anger. Timur would do well under the tutelage of the older shepherd. Soon Enosh and Timur would visit the fold near Bethlehem and inspect the flocks. Enosh would leave Timur with Alter to help with the growing flocks. He trusted Alter to do a good job teaching Timur the ins and outs of being a good shepherd. Timur would learn quickly and thrive in that environment. And Enosh, well Enosh found he would miss the young boy.

Demetrius' Story, Step 23

Step 23

Strange thoughts from their earlier conversation swirled through Demetrius’ mind as he stared up into a night sky, alive with stars. Much of what Alter said did not make sense. Alter had spoken of a God who loved His creation so much that He wanted to save it. In order to save it, He even sent His son. And that was not all, there was this talk of loving those that hated you. What kind of God wanted you to love the very people that hurt you? And why would He let His son be born into a Jewish family, and a working-class one at that? Then to top it all off, why did He let His son be crucified? None of it seemed to make any sense. But Alter seemed to accept it all as true. The sleeping sheep occasional snuffing and snorting sounds in the fold behind him.

Demetrius always enjoyed the time spent in the fold near Bethlehem. The fold kept the sheep safe and they were able to get good food here. Also, Bethlehem was near Jerusalem and this afforded him opportunity, opportunity for escape. Demetrius had been looking for a chance to escape ever seen Enosh had purchased him. He’d initially considered running away when they were out in the country but did not want to have to make his way through the hill country. He believed that he could slip into the crowds of Jerusalem, disappearing and joining some caravan heading away from here and hopefully down to the coast. There, he would try to join the crew of a ship headed to a port in Asia and then make his to Galatia and home. But he had a problem.

Lying there in the doorway, Demetrius realized he cared about Alter. He worried about what Enosh would do to Alter if he were to run away. Enosh had made it quite clear that he held Alter responsible for what happened with the sheep, and he could be quite volatile when provoked. Demetrius did not like thinking about the punishment Enosh would inflict in his rage. And, in a strange way, he felt sorry for Enosh as well. Demetrius didn’t know what it was, but he knew that Enosh carried his own grief. It bothered him that he might add to the strange man’s pain. He was not used to such thoughts and no matter how hard he tried to dismiss them, they returned. 

Demetrius' Story, Step 22

Step 22

Alter and Demetrius led the flock toward the fold a short distance from Bethlehem. Enosh rented a small field from a local farmer in which he’d constructed a fold for his flock. Consisting of a low wall constructed of stacked stone with a small gate, the fold served as a base of operations for his wool operations. A small lean-to in one corner provided a bit of shelter for Demetrius and Alter. A cistern enabled them to store water drawn from a nearby creek during wet weather or hauled in during periods of drought. A few mangers were scattered around the fold to hold fodder for the sheep. As always, the sheep, recognizing their environs, moved with greater speed, anticipating fresh food and water.

“So, who was this shepherd and teacher you’ve been talking about,” asked Demetrius?

“Well, I heard him teaching on the side of a hill north of here, near Nazareth. His words, quietly spoken, reached deep inside all who heard him,” remembered Alter.

“Which flock did he lead,” asked Demetrius?

“Oh, he wasn’t a shepherd. He was a craftsman. But, when I heard him speak he was a wandering rabbi, leading a small flock of followers,” recalled Alter, “He traversed the land teaching all who would listen. There were reports of healings and other miracles. It was a strange and wonderful time.”

“What did he teach that was so wonderful?”

“Well, many things, but one thing that sticks out in my mind was how we needed to love and serve those that persecuted us,” mused Alter.

“Love those that hurt us! That’s insane teaching,” barked an astonished Demetrius.

“I know, but it frees us if we’re able to embrace it. Doing good to them helps me lay down my anger and live in more peace,” Alter said, “It doesn’t sound possible. But to those that accept his teachings, the great shepherd gives surprising help in our time of need; but, the most important is the freedom laying down our anger brings.”

“That’s just crazy!”

“Yes, but true.”

Star Making

Star Making

    Pablito, the young angel came upon the Lord in His workshop.  The Lord bent over a project on the bench.  Pablito liked the workshop.  It was full of interesting tools and scraps of diverse materials.  Over against one wall stood bolts of unimaginably beautiful cloth.  Next to it were several bins holding a wide variety of items.  Some shone with inner fire while others gave off a smoldering smoky glow.   A huge shelf and cupboard held vials, jars, and urns of all sizes and shapes.  Each held a different element or compound.  Some were light others, tightly stoppered gurgled mysteriously when he shook them.  Some He used on a regular basis while others rarely used gathered dust.

Once, Pablito asked the Lord why He used some things so rarely?

    “Well, some things contain so much power you need very little of them to get your desired effect, love for example,” He replied, laying a gentle calloused hand on the young angel's shoulder.

Pablito liked examining all the different things in the workshop.  He enjoyed the feel of urns, running his fingers up the gentle curve and along the graceful sweep of the lip.  Sometimes he plunged his hands and arms up to the elbows in the bins of mysterious powders.  Then, lifting his hands up toward the ceiling he let the powder sift back into the bin while he watched the light sparkle on the drifting grains.

Yes, Pablito liked the worship.  Full of light and interesting tools, it invited young angels to come, see, and play.  Occasionally as some projects bubbled away over burners the Lord asked him to stir carefully.  That was the most fun of all.  He would lift the lid, sniffing the fantastic smells drifting up from the bubbling liquid.  Sometimes the vapors gave off sweet cinnamon smells.  Other times, he got whiffs of sharp unnamed spices that tickled his nose.  Yes, he liked the smelly, light-filled, noisy workshop.  It was a place of joy and discovery.

Pablito stood and silently watched the Lord for a while.  He labored on this project intently, working a lump of strange material with a mortar and pestle.  For some reason, this material resisted His efforts.  He pushed this way and that grinding hard with the pestle.  Amazed, Pablito noticed beads of sweat on His forehead.  On a corner of the bench, a pot over burner bubbled fiercely.  When each bubble popped a brilliant flash of light spilled into the workshop accompanied with a wild sweet smell.

“Pablito, come here I need you.” said the Lord without looking.

“Yes, Father,” replied Pablito.  The Lord was like that.  You never knew exactly where He would turn up or what He would do.  It was always interesting and wonderful, but just as frequently surprising and occasionally disquieting.

Pablito hurried over and picked up the indicated whisk and started stirring the burbling pot.  As he stirred more bubbles rose to the surface and popped.  For a few moments, the flashes and strong smell surrounded Pablito in an incandescent sweet cloud making him a bit dizzy.

“Careful there, you don’t want to bruise that or overexcite it,” instructed the Lord.

“Oh, yes Sir,” replied Pablito stirring a bit less vigorously.

“Do you like helping in the workshop, Pablito,” asked the Father?

“Yes Sir, I do.  It is a lot of fun,” said Pablito.

“I do too, it is fun making things,” said the Lord, “That’s enough stirring.  Will you bring me a bit of royal chromium from the shelf?”

“Yes, I will,” said Pablito turning to the shelf of ingredients.  He walked over to the shelf and stood there looking for royal chromium.  With a start, he noticed that none of the containers were labeled.  How could he tell which one was royal chromium?  

        He turned to the Lord, “Which one is it?”

“Well, here let me show you how to find it.  Clear your mind and picture royal chromium.  Do you have a good picture of it in your mind?”

“Yes Sir, I do,” said the young angel, eyes screwed tightly shut.

“Okay, now open them and look.”

Pablito opened his eyes and looked once again at the shelf full of ingredients.  As he ran his gaze over the bottles, one caught his eye.  It glowed with an inner light!  So that was how He did it.  This workshop was truly a mysterious and wonderful place.

“Wow, I always wondered how you could just reach over and pick out an ingredient on the first try,” said Pablito.

“Well, this system only works when I am around.  It helps keep young angels out of trouble.” said the Lord, laughter crinkling the corners of His eyes.

Pablito handed him the royal chromium.  Watching with great interest as the Lord added a drop to the mass in the mortar.  And so, the day went, the Lord working away on this mysterious object with Pablito running back and forth for a wide variety of ingredients.  He found such things as deep midnight blue, and mountaintop green.

“Now go and get me a cupful of starlight.” said the Lord handing him a battered tin cup.

Pablito took the tin cup and went to the shelf.  He closed his eyes thinking of pure silver starlight falling like rain on his face as he stood gazing up while the Lord carefully placed lacey pinwheels in space.  A battered clay pot at one end of the shelf glowed softly.  

“Gottcha,” he whispered triumphantly.

As he picked up the clay pot it moved!  The starlight inside surged against the walls of the pot making it shift in his hand.  When he set the pot down on the workbench it bumped and rattled a bit.  He glanced up at the Lord who smiled back and nodded for him to continue.  Carefully, he slipped off the lid.  As he did a wonderful glow filled the room.  He dipped the measuring cup into the gently swaying mass.  Carefully he handed the cup to the Lord as it gently surged in his hand.

“Wow, why does that move so much,” he asked?

“Oh, starlight must travel a long way so it must be especially powerful,” replied the Lord.

“So, we are making a star,” said Pablito.

“Yes, we are,” said the Lord somewhat quietly.

“But I thought we did that a long time ago.  I remember standing there watching you fling them into the sky.  That was a fun day,” said Pablito.

“Yes, that was a fun day.  But this is a special star for a special purpose,” He said quietly.

Pablito noticed that the Lord was very quiet and thoughtful, somewhat sad now.  That was a bit unusual.  The Lord rarely was sad.  He took the cup of starlight and gently poured it over the lump He worked in the mortar.  He took the pestle and started grinding slowly working the quivering starlight into the stiff lump.  As He did the lump changed.  It softened and started glowing with an inner fire.

Once He finished working it all together He stepped back, “Now, let’s finish up the liquid.  How is it coming, Pablito?”

“I think it is coming along fine,” he replied.  Pablito looked into the simmering pot.  Soft bubbles of light gently rose from the deep blue liquid.  Each bubble was a slightly different color, some red, others maroon, occasionally a crimson or yellow one scrambled up from the bottom.  Pablito’s favorites were the green ones.  They seemed to take longer to get to the surface and when they popped an especially sweet smell filled the air for just a moment.

The Lord took the whisk and gently stirred the pot while Pablito watched.  Pablito stared as a single tear slipped out of the Lord's eye!  Where did that come from?  Pablito had never seen the Lord shed a tear, not once.

The tear slid down the Lord’s cheek and then off.  It hung in the air for just a moment, a diamond-like jewel.  Then, just as quickly it fell into the burbling liquid in the pot.  When it did, the liquid changed.  It still burbled with wonderful colors.  The smells still filled the room for a moment when the bubbles burst.  But something was quite different.  Somehow, Pablito could never quite explain it; the liquid was tinged with deep sadness or sorrow in the background.  It was still joyful and happy, but way in the back bubbles of deep blue sorry occasionally popped.   When they did just a hint of bitterness filled the air and then it was gone.

“Well, it’s ready.” said the Lord.  He took the gently sparkling pot and carefully poured it over the glowing lump.  When He did the lump glowed brightly quickly growing in intensity.  Soon its’ brilliant light filled the room.  The Lord carefully tipped the mortar over and a star rolled out onto the workbench.

“Wow.” said an awed Pablito, “That is the most beautiful star I have ever seen.”

“Thank you.” said the Lord, “I like it too.  Would you like to come with me to place it in the heavens?”

“Yes, that would be fun.” replied the young angel.

“Come then let’s go,” said the Lord.

As the two of them padded down the hall out toward the terrace the Lord’s son joined them.  

“Is it ready, Father,” the Son asked?

“Yes, it is.  Would you like to see it?” the Lord replied offering the brilliantly glowing star.

The Son took the star and rolled it back and forth in His hands.  As He did so, the star slowly changed somehow becoming even more beautiful.

“Ah, I was hoping you would add that touch,” said the smiling Father, “Now it is ready to place.”

The small group arrived at the edge of a vast abyss.  Pablito glanced down the face of the cliff.  He never could quite make out the bottom.  The Lord stood there for a moment gently tossing the star in the palm of His hand.  Suddenly, He drew back, and with a mighty heave, He flung the star out across time and space.  

The three watched as the wonderful star arched across the deep black of space.  It scribed a perfect arc across the sky missing the spinning galaxies and constellations.  With a gentle plop, it landed on the far edge of space.

“Well, that’s just right.” said the Lord.

“Yes.” replied the Son, “It is.  It looks just the way we pictured it.”

With that, the three of them turned around and headed back into heaven.  Pablito scratched his head in wonderment.  The Lord and His Son did deep things, mysterious things.

“It is the King’s star,” said Gassur, “I think we should go and see.”

“I think you are right,” replied Bin-Maher, looking up from his parchments, “It is mentioned in this prophetic scroll.”

“Well, then, let us prepare for a long journey.  We must go and see this, the king of kings the star announces,”  said Al-Sadek.

The three men stood looking at the brilliant star glowing in the West for a few moments.  The star glowed so brightly that it cast a light shadow on the darkened balcony.  

Demetrius' Story, Step 21

Step 21

Nuria and Avishag sat across from each other. Avishag stared at Nuria, who sat with head bowed. “Look at me,” Avishag said quietly. 

    “Yes Ma’am,” Nuria replied looking up expectantly.

    “Where are you from?”

    “A small town outside of Jericho.”

    “How did you become a slave?”

    “My mother was one.”

    “And Timur?”

    “My brother.”

    “Well, I’m sorry,” said Avishag quietly.

    “For what,” Nuria inquired?

    “That you and your brother were taken from your mother. It must be painful,” said Avishag looking at Nuria with sad eyes.

    “We always knew it would happen. My mother told us. We’re just lucky that we were sold to the same owner. Most brothers and sisters are separated and never see each other again. I’m happy that we belong to the same owner and I work for someone so nice,” Nuria replied softly, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

    “That’s nice of you to say. How will we do this?”

    “Do what?”

    “Well, divide the work for one thing.”

    “You tell me what to do, and then I do it.”

    “I’ve never had a servant before. I never wanted one,” mused Avishag.

    “Why not,” asked Nuria in wonder, “Doesn’t everyone?”

    Avishag paused, “I suppose most people do. I guess they either need the help or want the status. I don’t really know. I never talked to anyone about it before. But that’s beside the point. The real question is, what am I going to do with you? I don’t know where to start”

    “I could sweep the floor. It’s rather dusty in some spots,” Nuria pointed toward a corner.

    “A slave and a critic,” Avishag noted wryly. 

    “I’m sorry mistress,” Nuria replied quickly looking down.

    “No child. Don’t worry. You’re correct. Perhaps Enosh knew what he was doing. Let’s start by tidying up the place. We’ll see how things go from there,” Avishag smiled at the strange little girl. 

Demetrius' Story, Step 20

Step 20

Demetrius and Alter walked on in silence, Alter wishing he had words to ease the burden Demetrius carried and Demetrius seething in hurt, anger, and resentment. It seemed as if the sheep, sensing their bleakness, bleated mournfully. Clouds blew in from the northeast, shedding a smattering of rain, sharing in the overall gloom of the small party. 

Alter sighed, “I am sorry. That must be a painful memory.”

“It’s not the only thing,” slowly, haltingly with great sigh filled pauses, Demetrius told the rest of his story. Life as the slave of Manius started well. Demetrius' duties, while many, were not odious. His days were filled with chores, centered around the maintenance of Manius' personal equipment and clothing. Manius was often gone for days, taking care of Roman governmental business across the region. Those days were pleasant. But, then things slowly changed.

Manius came back from a trip wounded. Though serious, his wounds were not life-threatening. But something had wounded his spirit. His laid-back personality slowly slipped away, replaced by a darker, more brutal, spirit. He drank more. He punished instead of taught. He resorted to physical violence instead of chastising. Then one night, after a day of binge drinking, Manius had beaten Demetrius…savagely. He’d bided his time, and when Manius went on one of his trips, he escaped fleeing into the wilderness.

Unfortunately, Manius had caught him and branded him. Unable to trust Demetrius any longer, he’d sold Manius to a passing caravan. Eventually, he’d been sold to Enosh, made a shepherd, and now spent his time wandering the Judean hills, smelling like sheep. 

“Well, I admit that you’ve endured more than your share of bad fortune,” mused Alter. 

“More than my share,” Demetrius said incredulously, “No one has been treated as badly as I!”

“Well, I know a man that, like you, was forced into a degrading circumstance, losing his status and place, and then had those he loved turn on him. Eventually, they killed him out of spite.”

“Who is he? I’ll bet he’s angry as well.”

“No, he’s not. He’s a good shepherd. The best I’ve known.” 

Demetrius' Story, Step 19

Step 19

Alter and Demetrius walked along, leading the sheep toward their fold near Bethlehem. As they walked, they talked quietly.

“Why are you so angry,” Alter asked?

    “I’m a slave, what else does it take,” Demetrius replied.

    “Well, many people are slaves, and most do not harbor such reserves of anger. You, however, contain so much anger that you cannot function effectively. What happened to create so much anger in you?

    Demetrius looked far off on the horizon, running his fingers through his hair, “I don’t know if I can explain.”

    “Well, why don’t you give it a try.”

    “I’m from Thyatira.”

    “Go on.”

    “Well, my parents were cheesemakers. They sold their product in local markets, making a nice living. As taxes increased, they found it hard to make ends meet. Then, one day my sister came down with a fever. My parents spent all they had on finding a cure. Still my sister, Nuria, slowly wasted away and perished in the end, leaving my parents sorrowing and broken. Their debt was so great that they sold me to a passing slave-trader. He took me to Ancyra and sold me to a Sergius Paulos, a Primus Pilus. So that is how I became a slave. My parents sold me to pay off a debt,” said Demetrius. His voice flat and unemotional did not match the anger and pain written on his face. 

    “I’m very sorry,” Alter said. It sounded weak, anemic, but what else was there to say?

    “It’s not your fault,” whispered and anguished Demetrius, “But how could they sell their son? How could they send off their son into such a degrading life as slavery?”

    “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Demetrius' Story, Step 18

Step 18

“Come with me, Timur,” directed Enosh, walking back into the kitchen area, “I want to show you some things about what I want you to do.”

“May I come to,” asked Nuria brightly.

“No, stay here. Avishag might need you,” replied Enosh, a bit brusquely. He turned so quickly that he did not see her crestfallen face and slumped shoulders. Timur smiled at her, patted her on the shoulder, and jogged out of the room keeping up with Enosh.

Nuria looked around the room, picked up a small handful of almonds, sat down on a small stool, and munched on them one at a time. She sat there quietly, feeling nervous and a bit scared, wondering what kind of household she’d been sold into. She sat there pondering until Avishag came into the room. The two of them stared at one another for a few moments until Avishag shrugged and went over and started examining some of the spices hanging to dry. Nuria watched for a few minutes and then got up and stood behind her, watching quietly. Eventually, Avishag turned around and jumped when she found Nuria standing so closely. 

“Little girl, don’t stand so close,” she barked, “Just go over there and sit still!”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” she replied quietly, “I just like the smell of the basil and other spices.”

Avishag sighed, leaning on the counter. Why had Enosh done this thing without talking to her? That was so like him now. She missed their discussions, deciding their future together. Now, Enosh was so self-absorbed that he just made decisions like that without even talking to her, just assuming that she wanted what he brought home. She sighed again, turned, and sat down on the stool at the table. 

“Little girl,” she motioned, “Come here and bring the stool with you.”

Nuria brought the stool over and sat down. 

“Yes ma’am,” she said expectantly.

“Let’s start over. My name is Avishag. You may call me…Avi.”

Demetrius' Story, Step 17

 Step 17

Enosh watched Avishag storm out of the room, leaving him with Nuria and Timur in strained silence. 

    “Well,” he mumbled, “that could have gone better.”

    “Can I have something to eat now,” Nuria asked?

          “What, oh, yes of course,” he replied. He looked around the kitchen, spied the small bag of almonds sitting where he’d left them, and handed them to her. She took the proffered bag and started munching them rapidly, small pieces of almond dribbling out of her mouth as she ate. He had to think of some way to get through to Avishag. He’d already spent the money and Nuria could help around the house. He would take Timur out to Bethlehem when he went out to oversee the shearing in the next day or two. You two can also eat some of the fruit and a piece of bread apiece. Leaving Timur and Nuria, he followed Avishag out to the terrace.

    “Avishag?”

    “What,” she replied, waves of anger emanating from her.

    “I want you to take care of Nuria. You can do that can’t you?”

    “You know that I do not approve of slavery.”

    “Why not? They give us more time to enjoy ourselves.”

    “But to own a person, it’s heartless.”

    “You would not be heartless. You’re kind.”

    “That’s beside the point. Owning a person seems so wrong.”

    Enosh sighed, “The law allows it, and as I said, they will help us by giving us more free time.”

    Avishag finally turned around, “We don’t need more free time.”

    Enosh sighed, “Look I’ve spent the money. The boy is needed with the flocks and I think the girl will be useful around the house, especially after the shearing. You’ll have a lot to do. You can train her to help prepare the wool. That way, we can get our wool to market early and get the best price.”

    “I still don’t see why we need them,” Avishag pouted.  

    “Well, we have them. Let’s make the best use of them possible,” Enosh replied doggedly. Perhaps this was the best result he could get. At least Avishag had not stormed off, though her glare could kill. 

Demetrius' Story, Step 16

 Step 16

Enosh walked through the streets of Jerusalem with his new property, Timur and Nuria. Now that he had completed the transaction, He felt no sense of urgency. He walked on contemplating how to introduce Avishag to Nuria. He hoped that she would appreciate having a young girl to help her around the house, not that there were too many things to do, but having a pair of extra hands during the busy times would ease her load. With his growing flocks, he needed an additional worker. The young boy would fit the role well, growing into a good shepherd within a year or so. The route home led him past one of the smaller markets.

He stopped and looked over some fresh fish, purchasing a few Pavenders. Both Avishag and he enjoyed the small rainbow-colored fish, especially grilled. Their flaky flesh was delectable with olive oil and salt. He also picked up a few oranges and a small bag of almonds. As they walked through the narrow streets, he considered how to introduce the new slaves to Avishag. She was not entirely comfortable with slaves and would probably not receive them gladly. That was part of the reason he’d purchased the Pavenders. Avishag liked them and enjoying a good meal would soften her…perhaps. A small voice interrupted his musings.

“May I have some almonds please?”

“Nuria, no,” Timur barked!

“But I’m hungry,” she whined.

“Listen, little girl. Just be quiet and follow me,” Enosh growled, “I’ll get you something to eat later this evening at home.” Enosh felt a small twinge of guilt at treating the young girl that way, but one had to take a firm hand with slaves, lest they forget their place…or you forgot their place. He was concerned that Avishag would become too close to the little girl. That had happened to more than one childless woman with slaves. He’d have to keep a careful eye on both the girl and Avishag. Soon they would be home and he’d have to introduce Avishag to the new slaves. Perhaps he should have talked to her first, but it was too late now.

Demetrius' Story, Step 15

Step 15

The early morning sun gently pushed back the night, stars slowly giving way to the greater light of the day. Alter gently shook Demetrius’ shoulder, “Come, Demetrius. It’s time to get up and move the sheep to the fold at Bethlehem.”

Demetrius groaned and sat up, stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Too bad we can’t stay here longer. I like this place. It’s quiet.”

“Yes,” Alter agreed, “But, unlike the sheep, we can’t eat grass and we’re almost out of human fodder.”

Demetrius laughed quietly, “Well then, I guess we’d better get going. Let’s see what we have to eat.” He reached for the worn leather satchel and started rummaging through it. “Well, here’s some bread, a bit of cheese, and what’s left of a packet of figs.”

“We can eat along the way. The earlier we leave, the sooner we get there, and the more time we will have to rest,” Alter said, extending a hand to help Demetrius up. Soon the flock of sheep, led by the two shepherds moved slowly across the Judean hills in the cold morning.

Demetrius watched Alter as he strode along, choosing his steps carefully, not wasting any energy. “How do you do it, Alter?”

“Do what?”

“Remain so pleasant and serve so well.”

“Oh, I don’t know that I serve so well.”

“You treat these sheep as if they were your own,” Demetrius said.

Alter paused in his walk, staring off into the distance waiting for a long time before speaking, “Well, I have a different understanding of ownership.”

“What do you mean,” asked a bemused Demetrius?

“It’s hard to explain, but I believe that Adonai owns it all. We are merely stewards of those things that He sends our way, including our lives. I treat the sheep as He would.”

“But Enosh owns them.”

“No, he is only a steward just like us,” returned Alter, “Only a temporary guardian of those possessions that the Lord sends him.”

“So, what does that make us, possessions or stewards?”

“Perhaps both,” smiled Alter, “Perhaps both.”

Demetrius' Story, Step 14

 Step 14

Enosh and Sergius faced each other across a small table. Sergius picked up a date stuffed with almond paste, examined casually, and then popped it into his mouth. Lounging in his chair, he eyed Enosh waiting patiently. Enosh ate several dates rapidly, considering his options. “Well,” he said, “I suppose the price is acceptable.”

“I expect so,” Sergius mused, “I have little problem finding customers. Of course, if you’d rather wait for a while, I’ve always got new merchandise moving through. It’s your choice.”

“No, I think these two will do. Here’s your money,” Enosh replied, shoving a small bag across the table. It clinked and shifted as he shoved it.

“Stay for a mid-day meal,” Sergius waved a languid hand toward the dining area, “My cook is quite good.”

“No, thank you. I must get home with these slaves. I need to have the young man ready to join the flocks tomorrow and I want to introduce the young girl to Avishag. That will be a bit tricky.”

“Are you sure? Cook has some fresh Stripped Mullet to grill. They are quite good.”

Enosh mused for a few moments, considering his options. “No, thank you. I really must get these new servants settled.”

Nuria glanced at Timur, eyes wide with fear and red-rimmed from crying. Her hand stole into his. “I’m scared,” she whispered, “What if I don’t like my master?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Timur whispered back, “Just be thankful to Adoni that we have the same master. That is a blessing.”

“I know,” she replied, chin quivering and tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes, “But I’m still afraid.”

Timur squeezed her hand, “Be brave. That’s all we can do. Be brave.”

Demetrius' Story, Step 13

 Step 13

As he walked on, leading the flock, Alter considered his options. How could he help Demetrius, who carried such a deep wound and nursed it instead of seeking healing? How could he help when he also suffered greatly? There were days when his anger burned hotly, especially when his labors brought him in the proximity of the powerful leaders from Jerusalem. He’d read the same Torah they did. He knew of the passages which limited the amount of time a Jew could keep a fellow Jew in bondage. Yet despite this, Alter knew of many Jewish slaves like himself that remained in servitude long after their six years. Such flagrant disregard for the tenants of the Law of Moses, yet these same men were accorded honor and respect as righteous leaders of the Jewish people. Deep in thought, Alter lost track of time. As Alter turned these things over in his mind, he did not notice Demetrius sidling up to him. He jumped when Demetrius spoke.

“Alter, what do you think of Enosh,” Demetrius asked?

“Well, he’s our master. What else is there to think about?”

“I hate him!”

“You have to be careful with such powerful emotions,” the old man replied, “They will consume you.”

“He only cares about himself.”

“Yes, that is true,” the older man mused.

“He doesn’t provide for us,” Demetrius groused.

“No, he doesn’t. Not well at least. But that doesn’t really matter.”

“How can you say that,” returned an astonished Demetrius?

“Well, it’s hard to explain. But I serve another master.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said the astonished young man.

“No, it doesn’t. But it would take too long to explain right now. Look here’s where we will graze for the day. It looks like the recent rains have brought new growth. The sheep will do well here for today. We can spend the night here and head for the fold tomorrow morning. Enosh told me to bring the flack down so he could examine them to see when they will be ready for shearing. We haven’t lost any of last year’s lambs, the ewes are getting ready to give birth, and the fleece looks good. He should be pleased,” said Alter.

“What do we care,” grumped Demetrius.

“They are his sheep, and we are responsible for them. He trusts us, and we’ve done a good job.”

“A fat lot of good it does us for all the gratitude he’ll show.”

“Yes, but we should take satisfaction for a job well done. That’s enough,” Alter said, a slight grin crinkling his eyes.

“Alter, I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay. Sometimes I don’t understand myself,” smiled the grizzled slave.

Demetrius' Story, Step 12

 Step 12

Alter strode along, splitting his attention between watching the ambling sheep and the ridgelines and crevasses for possible trouble of the four or two legged kind. He knew the hilly area where he wanted the flock to grace today. It was just through that low saddle just off to the west, a small valley formed by three hills. It offered enough grazing for their flock for the day and few other shepherds knew about it. In fact, unless you looked closely you would miss the good grazing between the boulders and crags of the hills. The small valley captured just enough moisture to support a good growth of plants. It had been several weeks since they’d been there, long enough for the foliage to recover from the days grazing. As long as no one else had grazed there, they should find enough fodder for their needs. He’d thought of sending Demetrius ahead to scout out the valley but had decided against it. Demetrius was in one of his dourer moods and while in the grip of his smoldering anger liable to seek confrontation with any he met. 

Perhaps today might offer a chance for conversation. Ever since Enosh had purchased and delivered Demetrius, Alter felt drawn to help the young man. Almost every slave felt some level of resentment at their lot in life. But Demetrius harbored a deeper hurt, and the resulting fury would destroy him if left unchecked. Besides, his volatile nature clashed with Enosh and threatened to spill over into their relatively peaceful existence. Self-centered and impulsive, Enosh was given to capricious acts of cruelty. If Alter could help it, he’d like to avoid such violence. No good would come from it. If only he could find the right words to help Demetrius. But what were those words? Perhaps some of the words he’d heard on that sunny hillside some years ago, words of forgiveness and forbearing. Words that somehow spoke healing into his soul, helping him find a way to release his own anger and hurt.

Demetrius' Story, Step 11

 Step 11

Enosh hustled through the crowded busy streets of Jerusalem, running over his earlier conversation with Avishag. Their relationship bemused him. He wasn’t sure what to do about it. He loved Avishag but was frustrated by their lack of children. He’d always wanted a child or two, a little boy and a little girl. Why had Adonai closed her womb? What grievous sin did she harbor? He had long since given up hope for progeny. He knew that they faced a long decline into old age and eventual death. That was what drove him on in the business. Without children and grandchildren, they would have to hire servants to care for them, and that took money. He needed to save enough to care for them when he could work no longer.  Meanwhile, he tried to fill the void in their lives with pleasure; however, Avishag did not seem to really enjoy any of the pleasures he brought home, not the fine foods, not the colorful silks, and not the comfortable furniture. Perhaps a servant to help with the work around the house would soothe her? That was where he was headed.

Ignoring street vendors selling dates, pomegranates, apricots, almonds, and other nuts, Enosh headed toward the upper city, near Herod’s palace. His friend Sergius would be able to provide him one, or maybe two servants. He’d already purchased one slave from Sergius. That had caused quite a stir with Avishag. She did not approve of slavery, merely tolerating the presence of surly Demetrius. She seemed to like Alter, but then, she almost never saw the shepherds. Perhaps a young girl to help her with household management. If they got along, that might ease things around the house. Yes, that might be just what they needed. Avishag seemed to resent his pleasures. It could be that she wanted more time to enjoy herself. This rationalization emboldened him, spurring him on. His sandals fairly slapped the cobblestones and the fringes of his robe swept imperiously as he hurried on toward the tony homes near Herod’s palace. 

Demetrius' Story, Step 10

 Step 10

Dissipated and bleary, Enosh shambled in from the bedroom. Avishag looked up from preparing apricots for drying. This year’s weather produced an abundant harvest of apricots that would soon dry out under the bright Judean sun. “How are you, love,” She asked watching him shuffle across the room to pour himself a drink of water. 

Enosh mumbled a reply and gulped down water.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”

“I said, I’m fine,” he replied sharply.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. What are you planning to do today,” Avishag asked turning back to her work?

Mopping his face to sop up the water that had dribbled into his beard from the cup, Enosh sighed, “I have some business to take care of. I’ll be gone all day and into the night.”

“I was hoping that we might spend some time together,” she said, “It’s been a long time since you and I enjoyed a day together. Couldn’t you take a break? You know, it’s not like we need more. You could rest here while I finish preparing the apricots. I could fix some of your favorite lamb and lentil stew while we talk. Remember, we used to do that and enjoy ourselves. We could eat our supper on the terrace and talk as the sun sets. It would be pleasant.”

Enosh glared at Avishag’s back as her shoulders worked rhythmically pitting the apricots, “I said I had business. All of these nice things you enjoy require denarius and you don’t get denarius without work. I’ll see you later!” And with that barked retort, Enosh turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving Avishag alone with her pitting. Soon her shoulders heaved with a new, distressed rhythm.

Demetrius' Story, Step 9

 Step 9

Demetrius watched Alter as the older shepherd led the flock across the Judean hills. Alter was one of those ageless men. His face lined by a long life out-of-doors. His hair gray and a little thinning on top. His beard full and like his hair the color of salt and, what was that strange and rare spice from Cathay, pepper. Despite the years, Alter seemed never to tire and was possessed of great reserves of strength. Demetrius remembered once when he had moved a boulder of surprising size to free a lamb that had somehow managed to wedge its leg in a small cleft near the bottom of the boulder. Though he moved with the easy stride of someone used to walking and standing for hours on end, Alter could move quickly when the moment required. Alters bright brown eyes twinkled as he often laughed, something that puzzled Demetrius. He knew that Alter carried a great wound in his heart; something very dark had happened long ago, something Alter never spoke of. But occasionally when he was alone, Alter stared off past the horizon with a haunted look that spoke of deep pain. And that was not all.

Alter treated everyone, even Enosh their master, with the same quiet gentleness that he lavished on the sheep. Enosh was a self-centered, bitter, and mercurial man, given to capricious acts of cruelty. Despite this, Alter served him well, as if he were a gracious and kind man. Demetrius just did not understand. Most slaves did just enough to avoid the lash, but not Alter. He served Enosh as if he were the best owner you could find. That did not mean that Alter did not possess anger. Demetrius remembered one day in particular. Alter was lost in one of his reveries.  Alone with his musings, Alter did not hear Enosh come up behind him. Enosh accosted him and getting no response struck him on the back. Alter wheeled around, brown eyes flaring with fury, and swept Enosh off his feet with a blindingly fast swing of his staff. Alter stood there a moment with staff raised, quivering with rage. Demetrius thought he would kill Enosh, not that Demetrius would have raised a hand to stop him. But, bringing himself under control, Alter lowered his shepherd’s staff and extended a hand to help Enosh up. A frightened Enosh took the proffered hand and scrambled to his feet. He gave Alter a severe tongue-lashing, but after that kept his distance from the older slave. Demetrius often remembered that and wondered. Today was one of those days. He watched the curious slave carefully, gently guide the sheep to fresh grazing.  

Demetrius' Story, Step 8

 Step 8

Demetrius poked the slowly moving sheep with his staff, attempting to hurry it along. It trotted a few steps and then, distracted by a small clump of greenery, it paused to browse at the tender shoots. “Move on you stupid animal,” he barked as he applied another rough stroke. 

“Demetrius, you don’t have to be so harsh. It is, after all, a stupid animal,” Alter said, adding in sotto voice, “Just like you.” Together, Alter, Demetrius, and the small flock moved slowly across the hills moving up toward higher ground. “Why are you so angry?”

“I’m a slave. Isn’t that enough?”

“How did you come to be a slave?”

“It’s not important,” Demetrius glared intently at the far horizon, fuming at some far distant place and time.

“I was forced into slavery,” Alter mused.

“Isn’t everyone,” Demetrius scowled.

“Yes, for the most part, though I’ve known of some who volunteer,” Alter replied.

“Really, I can’t imagine doing something like that,” Demetrius looked scandalized.

Alter sent his mind back in time years, decades. He saw an eager young man, looking for a better life for his family plunge into debt to build a nicer home.  He saw the same young man desperately seeking some way to save his family. He saw a beautiful willowy wife, holding a toddler girl with a worried-looking little boy holding onto her other hand. He saw fields heavy with nodding heads ready for harvest consumed by a raging fire. He saw creditors demanding payment. And then in dark bitter pain, he saw his beautiful family shuffling sadly away with her brother as his creditors took him as a slave, payment for his debts. And last of all, he saw a young shepherd listening as the strange preacher spoke of love and forgiveness on the side of a hill north of here. 

Demetrius' Story, Step 7

 Step 7

Alter looked over at the bundle of gray rags on the ground. The sun slowly poked up above the dark blue Judean hills. Morning frost covered the ground, each frost rimmed blade of grass, shrub, or rock slowly glowed apricot as the sun inched higher into the day. He always enjoyed this time of day. It was the reason he usually volunteered for the early morning shift. He enjoyed the quiet before the hustle of the day’s activities. He had a few moments to himself, moments he used to pray and meditate, thanking the Lord for yet another day. Soon it would be time to wake the sheep and lead from the fold. After watering them at the spring, they would head out into the hills searching for fodder. Despite the generally slow pace, a shepherds’ day was filled with responsibility and activity, leaving little time for introspection or contemplation. During these few minutes, Alter let his mind wander. He often went back in time, to a much better happier time, a time before sheep and slavery. In those quiet moments, he often saw his wife and daughter. They waved to him from the green hills in his mind. But he couldn’t cross the chasm carved by time and depravity. Sighing, he returned to the morning and his duties.

Bending over, he gently nudged the pile of rags, “Come Demetrius. It’s time to get up.” 

“Ungh,” the rags moaned and slowly sat up. “Is it morning already?”

“Yes,” Alter, replied, “Come on. We’ve got to get the sheep moving for the day.”

Demetrius' Story, Step 6

 Step 6

Sergius basked in the honey-gold light of the early morning sun. Never given to early rising, he lolled considering his options for the day. He enjoyed his life here in Palestine. Though the summers could roar in rather sultry, the mild winters ambled aimlessly on into spring. The mild sunny weather ensured some of the best pomegranates, figs, and melons he’d ever eaten. And then there were the mounds almonds. He’d never eaten better almonds in all his travels, and he’d been from one end of the empire to the other. But this was not what kept him here at the far end of the empire. No, he had bigger dreams, much larger than a tasty meal.

Sergius was a merchant and a prosperous one. He’d found a lucrative market and exploited it. He found a need and he knew how to fill the need and turn a handy profit at the same time. He was able to live well and set aside some for his ultimate goal, a small villa in the hills east of Rome. One with a terrace that faced west, warmed by the setting sun. There a man could work the land, enjoy the fruits of his labor, and take his ease. A year or two more in the markets and he’d have enough to buy his farm and settled down. Still, he needed to continue his labors for a while yet and this required travel to Alexandria in Egypt and Antioch and Tarsus. Sergius found the profits remarkable, but the moans and cries of the slave market stayed within his mind, echoing loudly disrupting his few quiet moments, moments like this.

Demetrius Story, Step 5

 Step 5

Avishag set on the porch as the gloom settled around her. Soon the darkness surrounding her matched the darkness insider her. How had her life grown so empty and, and, and…well lifeless? Oh, she liked their home on the western side of the city. While not the largest and most opulent, she enjoyed the comforts it afforded. She enjoyed nice clothes, especially the feel and bright colors of silks from Cathay, but they did not fill the emptiness of her heart. It was more than just the lack of children. Enosh had grown so distant and self-absorbed with seeking out every new or interesting food. They no longer enjoyed long conversations, lingering over sweet-meats and fruit as the sinking sun slowly painted the buildings in soft yellow, gold, and pink pastels. His ingrown churlish nature had carved a chasm so deep they could not cross, simply standing on different sides staring at each other in the darkness. Now, they shared a name and home, but little else. Sitting in the dark as silent tears trickled across her cheeks, lost in her grief and pain, she did not notice Enosh standing in the dark doorway.

Enosh leaned against the doorway, watching his wife quietly weep. He wanted to care, but could not summon the strength to do anything about it. He’d worked so hard to provide for her and build a good life yet nothing seemed to please her. But she was not the only one who felt empty. Nothing seemed to provide pleasure that lasted. Oh, he might enjoy a new food or wine a few times, but then all the joy or pleasure evaporated, leaving emptiness behind. Enosh had nothing left to offer. Avishag would have to just figure this out on her own. Sighing, Enosh turned and reentered their comfortable, but darkened, home, leaving Avishag in her own darkness.