Embedded. Marc Knutson
making eye contact and pointing at each one of them with the back of my pen. I thought it was interesting that as my eyes panned their faces, I came to Ashars face. He was looking at them as if he were the one asking the question. He was quite amusing at times.
“What did you do? How did you react to such an eerie event?” I asked.
“Please Mr. Stanton, this was not eerie, it was spectacular,” defended Azariah. “Of course, we were taken aback at first, a bit spooked, but the lead angel calmed us right away, assured us that they had been sent by God to deliver a fantastic message.” His face lit up as he concluded his sentence. Actually, the countenances of all three men were lit up at this point. It was as if the whole tavern had silenced in reverence. I actually looked up to see that nothing had changed, the crowd continued to revel. Yet to me, it seemed as if the whole world focused on Azariah’s.
“What did this spokes-angel say to you? What was this fantastic message? And, how did you know they weren’t locals trying to steal your sheep?” I knew that last part of the question was going to get their ire up. Men that are this convinced of receiving heavenly guests are not going to take a challenge to a personal event without an ardent defense.
“Sir,” came Hananiah’s terse retort, “We are here because someone informed us that you were interested in the glorious event that occurred to us.” His tone told me that I had struck a nerve. “And if what you are really interested in is trying to write a story to challenge or debunk our experience, then we will part company at this time.” Along with a collective nod, and a slight movement from Hananiah, the three men began to move as if to get up.
“No, now wait a minute,” I exclaimed holding out my right hand as if I were halting traffic. “Please understand, I wasn’t there. So I have to ask you questions that others would ask and perhaps questions that would be going through my mind at that time too. Please forgive the frank questions, but I must think of how readers would view the event and anticipate their challenges.” They seemed to appreciate my apologetic reasoning and re-seated themselves. “Surely, you men must have received some resistance to your story over the years, haven’t you?”
For the first time, Mishael interjected, speaking in a calm, resigned voice, “Yes, not everyone believes us, but quite frankly, that challenge has gotten old. We’re tired of people thinking that for the past thirty years we are out of our minds. But I tell you this, and my brethren here will support this statement; we received a host of angels that night. They approached us personally. And that is a fact!”
“What did they say to you?” I asked with genuine concern.
“First, they had to reassure us that they were sent from God and not the evil one. Second, they were excited to tell us that the long awaited king had arrived. The King of the World, the Meshiach Nagid – the Messiah!” responded Hananiah with reverence, adding a tone of exuberance as he said “Messiah.”
“But why did these angels come to you? Why not Herod, he was in charge at the time. Couldn’t they, shouldn’t they, have gone to the leadership of the land? Why didn’t they go to Rome and announce this new King?” I could tell that they took a little offense to my emphasis on the word King.
“Well, it was quite obvious once we put two and two together, using the events and what we knew of the prophetic scriptures,” began Hananiah in defense of my comment. “The Holy Scriptures speak of a messiah that is to come, to free the Hebrew people from their slavery to worldly empirical rule. The new king, we are told, would be born in Bethlehem. And that is what the angels were there to tell us that the event had occurred, that indeed this King was born to a couple in Bethlehem that very night. That was the ‘glorious experience!’ We had received a calling card, or what you would call, a baby announcement, in person – from God to us – through his messengers!” Hananiah’s voice was beginning to crescendo a bit. The other two were reveling in hearing the story one more time.
Looking me straight in the face, being deadpanned serious, Haniniah said, “And, to address your question about why lowly shepherds, instead of monarchy; we are still unsure, however our reasoning is: Why not us? If God would have made this announcement through royalty it would have been more ignored by the populace, another royalty event to glorify more royalty. As it were, shepherds weren’t the country’s favorite people; treated pretty rudely by most; what better group of people to announce a new king to; and to have shepherds go out and tell the world! At least that’s what we think.”
“So, what happened to the angels?” I asked.
Azariah took the lead. “They stayed with us as we allowed the message to sink in. They told us that that night the messiah had been born to a virgin in Bethlehem not far from our camp. We wanted to go see, to check it out, but we were afraid to leave the flock unattended. They were the Temple sheep after all.”
Azariah’s voice remained reserved and seasoned with reason. They had dealt with this experience for thirty years, and while they were excited, it appeared that they had reached the part the stories recollection that others have scoffed at or scorned them for so long. It was obvious that Azariah was making sure that a reasonable voice would minimize my rebuttal. He continued, “They offered to tend the flock as we went to check out their story. We were half-scared and half-excited. Could it have been that during our lifetime, the promised Messiah had actually arrived? And these troubadours of God were heralding the news right before our very eyes?”
Looking down at my notepad, I began to recite a summary of the story as I had heard it. I was taking measures to assure that I really was catching the gist of the story and getting the facts correct. I surprised myself with my ability to concentrate, apparently the din of the tavern barely affected me. “Okay, so I have written here that you are shepherds, not societal elites, doing what you are hired to do and minding your own business in the fields. You are debating the significance of some sort of ‘unusual’ star overhead when angels, sent by God, apparently thousands of them, surrounded your camp to announce that this promised messiah you have been waiting for, for thousands of years, had finally arrived. Coincidentally he was born in Bethlehem, not far from your campsite. And they were inviting you to abandon your flocks to witness this event at the place where he had been born. Is that correct so far?”
The three men looked at each other as if to see which one was going to answer. Hananiah was accustomed to being the spokesperson for the three, but the others had been doing a fine job of contributing, and he looked as if he were willing to yield to one of the other two. My eyes scanned back and forth to see who was going to speak up, no one was, so I did. “Look, it’s an easy question. Do I have it all correct so far? It’s simply a raw summary of the facts. When I start writing my article, I will fill in the details.”
Hananiah perked up. “Steve,” that was the first time anyone in Judah had called me by my first name since I’ve been on this assignment, “with all the due respects to you and your tenured professionalism, we don’t believe that you really have all the facts, nor do we trust you – no personal offense,” holding out his hand toward me in a conciliatory fashion, he continued, “but, since this glorious experience occurred, again, some thirty years ago, we have shared it with many a journalist – and none have gotten it right. You are the first reporter from the World Observer Gazette that we shared this with, and quite frankly, we don’t expect you to get it right either.”
In my career of collecting data for stories, I have been put in my place. So, this sudden turn wasn’t either offensive nor unexpected. After all, most reporters enter an interview with a black mark against them. A reputation caused by the few obnoxious reporters that ruined it for the many.
Looking at each one of the men, including Ashar, I began a defense of myself that I really didn’t think was warranted. “Hananiah, no offense taken. Listen, I know that you have been burned by reporters in the past, and in your eyes, I am no different – until proven different.” They nodded as if to agree with and understand the logic. “And you probably have discovered that most journalists are trying to find the sensational angle, their thinking is, ‘how can I really make this story bigger than it is,’ but haven’t you noticed that my questions, even my recital from my summary notes, show you that I want to down-play,