THE STORY OF THE FIELD OF ANGELS[6]

THE STORY OF THE FIELD OF ANGELS[6]

Florence Morse Kingsley

In the deep valley below Bethlehem an undulating meadow stretches east and west, its grass starred thick with blossoms in the days after the autumn rains. The villagers call it the Field of Angels, though to some it is known as the Place of the Star. In the days of the Cæsars the turrets of Migdol Edar, the shepherds’ watch tower, still looked down upon the place, though shepherds had long ceased to watch their flocks there by night.

Six miles to the north, behind the scarred shoulders of the ravaged hills, lay shamed and desolate Jerusalem. There was no longer a temple therein whither the tribes of Israel could go up to praise and magnify the name of Jehovah. Of all that great and glorious Zion there remained only a place for wailing by a ruined wall.

But flowers bloomed again in the red tracks of the Roman armies, and again there were little children to whom the horrors of that time of death were only as a tale that is told between waking and sleeping. When the sun shines in unclouded heavens, and myriads of flowers wave in the sweet wind, and the lark floods his acres of sky with down-dropping melody, what young thing will lament ruined temples or yet vanished cities, be they never so glorious? And so, the children were plucking the first flowers in the Field of Angels with shouts and laughter.

In the dwarfed shadow of Migdol Edar sat an old man who talked with himself in the midst of his great silver beard, his blue eyes shining like twinkling pools amid the frosty sedge of a winter’s morning. “The young things crop the blossoms like lambs,” he muttered, and stretched his withered hand to gather a tuft of the white, starlike flowers. Then he smiled to see a troop of little ones running toward him fearless as the lambs to which he had likened them.

First came a tall girl of ten, her clear olive cheek shaded by a tangle of curls; she held a flower-crowned baby in each hand. Behind her lagged three or four smaller girls and half a score of boys, shyer and more suspicious than their sisters.

“Good sir, wilt thou gather flowers in the Angel Field?” demanded the tall girl fixing bright, questioning eyes upon the stranger.

“Thou hast said truth, maiden,” answered the old man.

“I have come from over seas to gather them. And I will also tell thee one thing. Seest thou how many blossoms grow in this low valley? There grows a shining thought for every flower; these also would I gather.”

The girl shook her head. “We have found no shining thoughts in this field, honorable stranger,” she said. “Here are star flowers, and blue lilies of Israel, and anemones purple and scarlet. There are no flowers like those of the Angel Field. But I would that we might see the shining things which thou hast gathered.”

“Sit ye down upon the grass, every child of you,” cried the old man, his blue eyes beaming with delight, “and I will show you my shining thoughts, for in truth they are fairer than the flowers which perish in the plucking. See, child, the blue lilies of Israel how they droop and wither, and the star flowers drop their petals like early snow; but I will show you that which can never perish. Look you, children, I was no taller than yon little lad—he with the scarlet tunic; and I wandered with the shepherds in this field—which in those days was known only as the valley of flocks—gathering flowers and minding the paschal lambs. They strayed not far from their mothers. Great Jerusalem was in its latter glory, and a marvelous bright star shone in the heavens. Wise men there were who declared that the star heralded the birth of Israel’s deliverer, He who should be King of kings and Lord even of the Romans. The shepherds talked of these things in the night watches, and I, folded in my father’s abba, listened between dreams.

“’Twas in this very spot we gathered on the night of which I will tell you. My father, the head shepherd, and very learned in the Psalms and Prophets, sat silent while the others talked softly of the flocks and of the weather, which was uncommon mild for the time of year, and of the pilgrims who had gathered out of all the provinces to pay tribute to the heathen emperor. The heavens were dark save for the great star which shamed all the rest into twinkling sparks. The young moon hung low in the west. I saw all this from the shelter of my father’s cloak, and was content even as the lambs which lay close to the warm hearts of their mothers in the soft, damp grass.

“Suddenly my father lifted up his great voice. ‘The Lord is in His holy temple: let all the earth keep silent before Him!’ So spake he, and the others, marveling, held their peace. My young eyes were just closing in a dream of peace, but they opened wide at sound of my father’s solemn voice: ‘Behold I will send My messenger, and he shall prepare the way before Me: and the Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to His temple. Behold, He shall come, saith the Lord of hosts!’

“Then did the earth swoon and tremble—or so it seemed to my young fancy—and the light of the star on a sudden blazed forth with myriads of sparkling rays, of all colors splendid and rare, and radiance presently took shape to itself and became the figure of a man clad in dazzling garments who stood over against the sleeping flocks. He spoke, and his voice was as the voice of Jordan when he rolleth his spring floods to the sea. Every man of the shepherds was fallen to the ground with fright; but I lay unafraid in the shelter of my father’s cloak and saw and heard all.

“‘Fear not,’ said the shining one, ‘for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’

“Then were the heavens and the silent valley and the heights of Bethlehem filled with shining ones, who lifted up their voices in songs the like of which never yet fell on mortal ears. ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men!’ The anthem rose and fell in glorious waves of melody toward the star blazing in mid-heaven. The voices passed singing into the silence, and the shining forms, blent once more with the celestial rays of the star, wavered for an instant before our dazzled eyes, and were gone.

“My father was the first to recover himself from that trance of wonderment. ‘Let us now go even to Bethlehem,’ he said, ‘and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known to us.’

“The shepherds girt themselves to depart, and I, creeping from the warm folds of the abba into the chill night, followed hard after them. Being low of stature—for I was no higher than yon little lad—I saw a thing which the others perceived not: the soft, damp grass was starred with snowy blossoms both far and near where the feet of the angels had trod. I lagged behind to gather of them a great handful.

“The dim light of the inn swung half-way up the rocky steep, and there we waited in the darkness, my young heart beating loud in my ears, whilst my father parleyed with the keeper of the gate. ‘There was no babe within,’ the porter said, and would have shut the door fast in our faces but that my father, being a man of authority and insisting that it was even as he had said, presently pushed by him into the khan. And indeed there was no babe in all the place, only pilgrims lying close to the sleeping-lofts and their beasts which crowded the courtyards.

“I pulled my father’s sleeve and whispered to him that the angel said we should find the Babe lying in a manger. And in truth, my children, when presently we were come to the place where the great oxen were housed from the winter’s cold, we found the young mother and the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger. He, the Salvation of Israel—the Messiah—the Desire of Nations! These eyes gazed upon Him in His beauty. These hands touched Him as He lay asleep in the manger nestled in His soft garments on the yellow straw.”

The tremulous voice faltered—ceased. The old man bent forward smiling, as if once again he gazed upon the world’s Savior asleep in His manger cradle.

One of the girls laid a timid finger on the border of the pilgrim’s cloak. “And was He—like other babies?” she asked in a low voice.

“Like other babies?” smiled the old man. “Yea, verily, little one, He was fashioned in all points even as we are—thanks be unto Jehovah! Yet was He unlike—so wondrous fair, so heavenly beautiful was that Babe of Bethlehem as He lay even as an angel asleep in that humblest bed of all the earth. The milk-white blossoms I had gathered shone faint in the half darkness like tiny stars. I laid them at His feet and their fragrance filled all the place as incense.”

The aged shepherd looked down at the flowers in his withered hands, his slow tears falling upon them like holy dew. Also he murmured strange words to which the children listened with wonder, albeit they understood them not at all. “Behold He was in the world, and the world was made by Him, and the World knew him not. For by Him were all things created that are in Heaven, and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers. These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness.”

Then the children stole quietly away one by one, till presently they were again at play amid the myriad blossoms of the star flower. But the old man rested beneath the shepherds’ tower, while the shadows lengthened across the Field of Angels.