The Revolutionary In Bethlehem
Sermon
Gospel Subplots
Story Sermons Of God's Grace
In the seven hundred and forty-seventh year since the founding of Rome, in the province of Judea, a man and woman ascended the slope to the hamlet of Bethlehem. When they saw the first Roman soldiers at the town's entrance, the couple stopped and the woman readjusted her weight upon the donkey. Then again they journeyed slowly up to the cluster of square houses on the top of the low ridge.
They came to register for the tax evaluation census ordered by Publius Sulpicius Quirinius, legate of Syria. Two auxiliary troops, javelins in hand, swords on hip, inspected every traveler into the city. While the woman sat on the donkey silently looking down, the man pointed out that she would soon have a child. The soldiers saw the humility expected in the presence of Rome's soldiers and waved them by.
Bethlehem was overflowing with people -- even the flat rooftops covered with sleeping mats. The man inquired at a few houses and asked some cameleers and donkey-boys, but each replied that no lodging remained. Finally, someone mentioned the caves outside the town which sheltered sheep. In the dim light of dusk the two walked stooped into a cave. The woman looked around quickly and spoke with a tight voice, "I was so frightened by the guard. If he searched us ... "
"I was frightened too, Deborah, but he didn't. Give me the sica."
Deborah reached under her clothing and pulled out a bundle of rags which wrapped the sica, a curved dagger.
Yarib received it and placed it in the belt under his tunic. He was one of the insurrectionists whom the Romans called Sicarii, named for the small knives with which they assassinated their opponents.
"But I'm still glad I came with you," Deborah said.
"Well," Yarib sighed, "your idea of hiding the sica and pretending you were pregnant kept us alive. If the soldiers saw us turn back when we sighted them, they would have chased us."
Deborah held her husband. "I told you when you tried to leave me in En-gedi that when you love someone, you cannot be apart."
Yarib said nothing. Regret it as he may, he had made up his mind only the day before to let Deborah accompany him. She convinced him that his part in the insurrection would be concealed better by traveling with a woman. Now he must hide her.
Deborah lay down in a crevice on the side of the cave and Yarib covered her with their extra clothing. He stacked limestone rocks in front and scooped dirt into the gaps between rocks. Yarib left to tie the donkey elsewhere. As he led it along he wondered if every Sicarius was following his sworn duty.
The Sicarii were the most militant of the groups resisting the Romans. They hated Roman statues. They would not handle, or even look at, a Roman coin with a human image on it. They opposed Roman taxes and the double blasphemy of counting God's people, because the census would set the amount of tribute Judea must pour into the Roman treasury.
Yarib had been recruited by the Papa Sicarius Mishael Bar Calphi. A huge, robust man, the old women sang a ditty about Mishael that he could talk you out of a sneeze, laugh away your indigestion, then steal your eye teeth.
"The Romans are just like the Greeks," Mishael exhorted Yarib. "Sure the Romans construct giant buildings, but only so young men can run around naked, study philosophy instead of the Scriptures, and learn twenty ways to swindle their countrymen." Yarib never questioned Mishael Bar Calphi. Mishael would quickly gasp another lung-full and continue: "The revenue from this holy land should not leave its borders. Besides," he added, as though the clincher for any half-persuaded revolutionary, "when we burn the archives, record of your debt will be canceled. The land you've worked for five years will be yours."
Yarib was convinced. At the next meeting Mishael brought his twelve disciples to worship. Kneeling, they swore to fight to the death. Yarib hardly had time to think before he heard himself chant the oath with the others. From that moment he believed his status with God depended upon keeping his vow to kill Rome's soldiers.
Now as Yarib tiptoed through the alleys of Bethlehem, he was determined to carry out his vow. The opportunity almost stepped on him. The sentry had been relieved shortly after dusk. Yarib had his sica drawn when the sentry stumbled into him in the alley. Yarib plunged as the soldier jumped and twisted away; but Yarib struck him in the thigh, and as the man fell, he said, "Claudia." Yarib hesitated at the name; but in disgust he assumed "Claudia" must be a prostitute.
He had no time to think further. A second soldier rounded the corner and stumbled upon his writhing comrade. Yarib turned and ran. With no spear or armor he could run fast. Still, the soldier was strong and stayed near, yelling curses. Their feet echoed in the narrow streets; and then like a falling star, the javelin flew by Yarib's head, scraping an arch of sparks against a wall. Yarib plunged between the irregular houses, up steps, and around a well. Finally he was free of his pursuer, yet he heard the garrison being called out.
If it were not for Deborah he would go back and fight. He took a long circling route to the cave, diving behind one rock to another, wondering if the rebellion would go as planned. His attack on the sentry was the beginning. By fomenting trouble in Bethlehem, Rome's auxiliary legion would dispatch troops from Jerusalem south. Similar skirmishes in Jericho and Modein would scatter more Jerusalem troops east and north. Then Mishael Bar Calphi and the nine others would make their bold stroke in God's holy city. With the Roman troops depleted at Jerusalem, but before more arrived from Caesarea, they would assassinate King Herod and lead the citizens in revolt. Even if the population of Jerusalem did not help, Mishael said, God would perform his greatest miracle and defeat the Romans without human aid.
Yarib was breathing hard as he crawled between boulders. His knees were ripped and bleeding. But he had not been followed. Entering the cave he whispered, "Deborah," knowing she could not hear him. Before he had had no time to be frightened; now fear flooded him. He wildly uncovered the alcove where his wife lay hidden. He kept whispering, "Deborah, Deborah." Just before she answered it struck him: Maybe "Claudia" was the name of the sentry's wife. Yarib and Deborah clutched one another atop the pile of stones that had hidden her.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Yes, but the Romans have one lame trooper."
Deborah did not reply. Yarib said, "If we all keep our vow the revolt begins in four days, and in a week there will be more light in the world, and fewer Romans. God will honor our war and establish his final kingdom."
The two sat now, holding hands. Their hearts slowed and their breathing quieted. After a long silence, Deborah spoke, "Yarib, I thought of pretending to be pregnant, because I am."
Yarib could not have been more shocked if a mountain had tumbled on him, or more pleased if every Roman legionnaire had drowned in the Mediterranean. He could barely see Deborah in the dark but he held her in front of him, hands on her shoulders. "Truly?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Deborah," he squeaked, grasping her tightly. In his mind he saw infants with mothers by lamp light, and fathers teaching children games. He saw the respect the village showed those who had strong sons, and himself growing old with grandchildren who asked to hear again the tales of the revolutionary war. "The revolution," Yarib said. "Great God, the revolution! We must keep the Romans from this cave."
Instantly he was hiding Deborah again. This time he spent more effort for her safety. As he piled rocks in front of her the two parents-to-be almost giggled, "A baby ... probably a boy ... of course a boy ... but maybe a girl ... all right, a girl ... yes, I love you too."
With Deborah safe and prepared to let herself out if he were not back in two days, Yarib left to search for a place for himself. If he were discovered and executed he could bear it, knowing Deborah was safe and they would have a child. Yet now Yarib was not so willing to die. He wanted to live, even if he did not own the field he farmed. He wanted to care for Deborah and children and take them to Jerusalem to worship in the great temple.
He crossed two gullies below the town and rounded a small shoulder on the ridge. No moon shone, but the sky was clear and what seemed the opening of a cave proved to be just that. The smell of sheep was fresh, but it was empty.
Yarib felt for an indentation in which to conceal himself. On one side he found where shepherds had hollowed out the limestone for a feeding trough, and opposite this he discovered a low overhang which could hide him if enough rocks were piled in front. He was hardly covered when he heard voices and through a small slit in his defense he saw a torch stuck into the mouth of the cave, then the body of a Roman soldier, last Yarib saw the sword in his other hand. A second torch appeared, a second soldier, a second sword. Outside a strong Latin voice yelled to the two men. Neither soldier spoke. Each peered with his torch into every crevice. The larger of the two moved towards Yarib, slowly, closer. Tiny slivers of orange light pierced Yarib's chamber. Directly in front of Yarib the soldier turned and continued to search to his left. Then without a word, the two exited the cave.
Yarib's head was pounding. At each heartbeat he feared his head would burst his ears. For half the night he lay in his stone enclosure never wholly able to calm his fear. His body would shake though his mind was quiet. Every time his body's convulsions ebbed, his mind compiled an unending number of methods by which he and Deborah might be executed. Just as he began to pray, two more voices upset him. A dim oil lamp with two wicks entered the hollow. The man holding the lamp helped a young woman. The woman moaned and held her large stomach. "Oh, I need to lie down."
"Here, Mary," he said as he perched the lamp on an outcropping. "Lie here. I'll cover you."
"Thank you. I kept wondering if we'd ever get here. I know you're disappointed we don't have a room, but, Joseph, I'm so glad we arrived."
"At least we have warm clothes, a lamp, and plenty of oil."
Yarib watched the couple briefly, then collapsed into exhausted sleep. He knew it was near dawn when he awoke to an infant's cry. Propping himself on his elbow he found a slit to look through. He saw Joseph prepare the stone manger with straw. Mary wrapped the twitching infant in cloths, and laid him there for a bed.
"Jesus," they agreed was his name. At the name, "Jesus," Yarib remembered "Claudia" that the wounded soldier had uttered. Yarib was disturbed to think that maybe Claudia was the sentry's daughter. For the first time he felt guilty about the attack. He wished he and Deborah were home, and he could find a better way to rid the land of Romans. Seeing this new family, violence did not seem appropriate. And Yarib was embarrassed, believing himself to be witnessing something that should not be seen by anyone else.
A bustle occurred outside the cave; but before Yarib could fear soldiers, in came four working men. They said nothing.
"Who are you?" Joseph asked.
One stepped forward, "We're shepherds."
Husband and wife and four shepherds faced one another as though someone else had invited them all and each was waiting for another to explain why.
"What do you want?" Joseph asked again. "The inn keeper said anyone could use these caves. Do you need shelter?"
"No," another man said. "We're looking for a child."
The third shepherd added, "We've seen angels tonight, lighting the sky with songs about a savior."
The shortest among the shepherds stepped up and said, "At first there was one angel and we were terrified; but he told us not to be afraid, that he had great news for everyone about a savior, the Lord's Messiah born today in David's city."
"And that's why we came here," the first man explained. "The angel said we'd find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. That's when the sky split with all these angels praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.' "
Yarib was aglitter at the talk of a Messiah. Mishael Bar Calphi was right. Now starts the war in which God saves his people. Yarib was ready to dig himself out. But he winced at the word "peace."
The parents brought the shepherds to the infant in the manger; and they talked more of the peace expected through this child. "Peace" struck Yarib as hard as a sword. He was not preparing for peace, but war. Yet in the presence of this gentle family and these joyful messengers, peace seemed so clearly to be God's purpose. Yarib believed what the shepherds said, and at the same time he was in turmoil over his assault upon the soldier. He felt covered with shame for his violence. But he did not know what to do. He wished he could grasp for a way out of his guilt as easily as he could throw aside the rocks behind which he hid.
He began to pray -- for himself, for Deborah, for their child, for the child Jesus in the manger, for the wounded trooper, for Claudia (whoever she was) -- that sometime, some way, he could make up for what he had done, although he had no idea how. As he prayed he trusted the shepherds' message and the good news of the message grew within him -- this child, this helpless child, was to be the promised savior. He asked God to save him, not merely save him from his guilt and the consequences of his deed, but save him for a new life -- for peace.
He had not decided what to do about the injured soldier, but he knew that the next day he would crawl from his cave to live for peace. However he would do it, he now had the power of peace in his heart.
Now, near the infant Jesus, Yarib, one of the Sicarii, slept again. That night in his chilly crypt he had made a new vow that wherever he went or whatever happened he would do everything he could to bring about God's peace into this world.
Discussion Questions
Text: Luke 2:1-20
1. What immediate responses do you have to the story?
2. If you could have a conversation with one of the characters in this story which would you speak with and what would you ask or say?
3. Do you identify with any character in the story?
4. What is the "nearest" you have been to Jesus' birth?
5. Have you been mistaken about God's purposes, and have you had an experience where you came to understand the meaning of Jesus' peace?
6. Have marriage and children changed your faith?
7. In that Christ rewrites our lives, what from this story would you like to have happen in your life?
They came to register for the tax evaluation census ordered by Publius Sulpicius Quirinius, legate of Syria. Two auxiliary troops, javelins in hand, swords on hip, inspected every traveler into the city. While the woman sat on the donkey silently looking down, the man pointed out that she would soon have a child. The soldiers saw the humility expected in the presence of Rome's soldiers and waved them by.
Bethlehem was overflowing with people -- even the flat rooftops covered with sleeping mats. The man inquired at a few houses and asked some cameleers and donkey-boys, but each replied that no lodging remained. Finally, someone mentioned the caves outside the town which sheltered sheep. In the dim light of dusk the two walked stooped into a cave. The woman looked around quickly and spoke with a tight voice, "I was so frightened by the guard. If he searched us ... "
"I was frightened too, Deborah, but he didn't. Give me the sica."
Deborah reached under her clothing and pulled out a bundle of rags which wrapped the sica, a curved dagger.
Yarib received it and placed it in the belt under his tunic. He was one of the insurrectionists whom the Romans called Sicarii, named for the small knives with which they assassinated their opponents.
"But I'm still glad I came with you," Deborah said.
"Well," Yarib sighed, "your idea of hiding the sica and pretending you were pregnant kept us alive. If the soldiers saw us turn back when we sighted them, they would have chased us."
Deborah held her husband. "I told you when you tried to leave me in En-gedi that when you love someone, you cannot be apart."
Yarib said nothing. Regret it as he may, he had made up his mind only the day before to let Deborah accompany him. She convinced him that his part in the insurrection would be concealed better by traveling with a woman. Now he must hide her.
Deborah lay down in a crevice on the side of the cave and Yarib covered her with their extra clothing. He stacked limestone rocks in front and scooped dirt into the gaps between rocks. Yarib left to tie the donkey elsewhere. As he led it along he wondered if every Sicarius was following his sworn duty.
The Sicarii were the most militant of the groups resisting the Romans. They hated Roman statues. They would not handle, or even look at, a Roman coin with a human image on it. They opposed Roman taxes and the double blasphemy of counting God's people, because the census would set the amount of tribute Judea must pour into the Roman treasury.
Yarib had been recruited by the Papa Sicarius Mishael Bar Calphi. A huge, robust man, the old women sang a ditty about Mishael that he could talk you out of a sneeze, laugh away your indigestion, then steal your eye teeth.
"The Romans are just like the Greeks," Mishael exhorted Yarib. "Sure the Romans construct giant buildings, but only so young men can run around naked, study philosophy instead of the Scriptures, and learn twenty ways to swindle their countrymen." Yarib never questioned Mishael Bar Calphi. Mishael would quickly gasp another lung-full and continue: "The revenue from this holy land should not leave its borders. Besides," he added, as though the clincher for any half-persuaded revolutionary, "when we burn the archives, record of your debt will be canceled. The land you've worked for five years will be yours."
Yarib was convinced. At the next meeting Mishael brought his twelve disciples to worship. Kneeling, they swore to fight to the death. Yarib hardly had time to think before he heard himself chant the oath with the others. From that moment he believed his status with God depended upon keeping his vow to kill Rome's soldiers.
Now as Yarib tiptoed through the alleys of Bethlehem, he was determined to carry out his vow. The opportunity almost stepped on him. The sentry had been relieved shortly after dusk. Yarib had his sica drawn when the sentry stumbled into him in the alley. Yarib plunged as the soldier jumped and twisted away; but Yarib struck him in the thigh, and as the man fell, he said, "Claudia." Yarib hesitated at the name; but in disgust he assumed "Claudia" must be a prostitute.
He had no time to think further. A second soldier rounded the corner and stumbled upon his writhing comrade. Yarib turned and ran. With no spear or armor he could run fast. Still, the soldier was strong and stayed near, yelling curses. Their feet echoed in the narrow streets; and then like a falling star, the javelin flew by Yarib's head, scraping an arch of sparks against a wall. Yarib plunged between the irregular houses, up steps, and around a well. Finally he was free of his pursuer, yet he heard the garrison being called out.
If it were not for Deborah he would go back and fight. He took a long circling route to the cave, diving behind one rock to another, wondering if the rebellion would go as planned. His attack on the sentry was the beginning. By fomenting trouble in Bethlehem, Rome's auxiliary legion would dispatch troops from Jerusalem south. Similar skirmishes in Jericho and Modein would scatter more Jerusalem troops east and north. Then Mishael Bar Calphi and the nine others would make their bold stroke in God's holy city. With the Roman troops depleted at Jerusalem, but before more arrived from Caesarea, they would assassinate King Herod and lead the citizens in revolt. Even if the population of Jerusalem did not help, Mishael said, God would perform his greatest miracle and defeat the Romans without human aid.
Yarib was breathing hard as he crawled between boulders. His knees were ripped and bleeding. But he had not been followed. Entering the cave he whispered, "Deborah," knowing she could not hear him. Before he had had no time to be frightened; now fear flooded him. He wildly uncovered the alcove where his wife lay hidden. He kept whispering, "Deborah, Deborah." Just before she answered it struck him: Maybe "Claudia" was the name of the sentry's wife. Yarib and Deborah clutched one another atop the pile of stones that had hidden her.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Yes, but the Romans have one lame trooper."
Deborah did not reply. Yarib said, "If we all keep our vow the revolt begins in four days, and in a week there will be more light in the world, and fewer Romans. God will honor our war and establish his final kingdom."
The two sat now, holding hands. Their hearts slowed and their breathing quieted. After a long silence, Deborah spoke, "Yarib, I thought of pretending to be pregnant, because I am."
Yarib could not have been more shocked if a mountain had tumbled on him, or more pleased if every Roman legionnaire had drowned in the Mediterranean. He could barely see Deborah in the dark but he held her in front of him, hands on her shoulders. "Truly?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Deborah," he squeaked, grasping her tightly. In his mind he saw infants with mothers by lamp light, and fathers teaching children games. He saw the respect the village showed those who had strong sons, and himself growing old with grandchildren who asked to hear again the tales of the revolutionary war. "The revolution," Yarib said. "Great God, the revolution! We must keep the Romans from this cave."
Instantly he was hiding Deborah again. This time he spent more effort for her safety. As he piled rocks in front of her the two parents-to-be almost giggled, "A baby ... probably a boy ... of course a boy ... but maybe a girl ... all right, a girl ... yes, I love you too."
With Deborah safe and prepared to let herself out if he were not back in two days, Yarib left to search for a place for himself. If he were discovered and executed he could bear it, knowing Deborah was safe and they would have a child. Yet now Yarib was not so willing to die. He wanted to live, even if he did not own the field he farmed. He wanted to care for Deborah and children and take them to Jerusalem to worship in the great temple.
He crossed two gullies below the town and rounded a small shoulder on the ridge. No moon shone, but the sky was clear and what seemed the opening of a cave proved to be just that. The smell of sheep was fresh, but it was empty.
Yarib felt for an indentation in which to conceal himself. On one side he found where shepherds had hollowed out the limestone for a feeding trough, and opposite this he discovered a low overhang which could hide him if enough rocks were piled in front. He was hardly covered when he heard voices and through a small slit in his defense he saw a torch stuck into the mouth of the cave, then the body of a Roman soldier, last Yarib saw the sword in his other hand. A second torch appeared, a second soldier, a second sword. Outside a strong Latin voice yelled to the two men. Neither soldier spoke. Each peered with his torch into every crevice. The larger of the two moved towards Yarib, slowly, closer. Tiny slivers of orange light pierced Yarib's chamber. Directly in front of Yarib the soldier turned and continued to search to his left. Then without a word, the two exited the cave.
Yarib's head was pounding. At each heartbeat he feared his head would burst his ears. For half the night he lay in his stone enclosure never wholly able to calm his fear. His body would shake though his mind was quiet. Every time his body's convulsions ebbed, his mind compiled an unending number of methods by which he and Deborah might be executed. Just as he began to pray, two more voices upset him. A dim oil lamp with two wicks entered the hollow. The man holding the lamp helped a young woman. The woman moaned and held her large stomach. "Oh, I need to lie down."
"Here, Mary," he said as he perched the lamp on an outcropping. "Lie here. I'll cover you."
"Thank you. I kept wondering if we'd ever get here. I know you're disappointed we don't have a room, but, Joseph, I'm so glad we arrived."
"At least we have warm clothes, a lamp, and plenty of oil."
Yarib watched the couple briefly, then collapsed into exhausted sleep. He knew it was near dawn when he awoke to an infant's cry. Propping himself on his elbow he found a slit to look through. He saw Joseph prepare the stone manger with straw. Mary wrapped the twitching infant in cloths, and laid him there for a bed.
"Jesus," they agreed was his name. At the name, "Jesus," Yarib remembered "Claudia" that the wounded soldier had uttered. Yarib was disturbed to think that maybe Claudia was the sentry's daughter. For the first time he felt guilty about the attack. He wished he and Deborah were home, and he could find a better way to rid the land of Romans. Seeing this new family, violence did not seem appropriate. And Yarib was embarrassed, believing himself to be witnessing something that should not be seen by anyone else.
A bustle occurred outside the cave; but before Yarib could fear soldiers, in came four working men. They said nothing.
"Who are you?" Joseph asked.
One stepped forward, "We're shepherds."
Husband and wife and four shepherds faced one another as though someone else had invited them all and each was waiting for another to explain why.
"What do you want?" Joseph asked again. "The inn keeper said anyone could use these caves. Do you need shelter?"
"No," another man said. "We're looking for a child."
The third shepherd added, "We've seen angels tonight, lighting the sky with songs about a savior."
The shortest among the shepherds stepped up and said, "At first there was one angel and we were terrified; but he told us not to be afraid, that he had great news for everyone about a savior, the Lord's Messiah born today in David's city."
"And that's why we came here," the first man explained. "The angel said we'd find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. That's when the sky split with all these angels praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.' "
Yarib was aglitter at the talk of a Messiah. Mishael Bar Calphi was right. Now starts the war in which God saves his people. Yarib was ready to dig himself out. But he winced at the word "peace."
The parents brought the shepherds to the infant in the manger; and they talked more of the peace expected through this child. "Peace" struck Yarib as hard as a sword. He was not preparing for peace, but war. Yet in the presence of this gentle family and these joyful messengers, peace seemed so clearly to be God's purpose. Yarib believed what the shepherds said, and at the same time he was in turmoil over his assault upon the soldier. He felt covered with shame for his violence. But he did not know what to do. He wished he could grasp for a way out of his guilt as easily as he could throw aside the rocks behind which he hid.
He began to pray -- for himself, for Deborah, for their child, for the child Jesus in the manger, for the wounded trooper, for Claudia (whoever she was) -- that sometime, some way, he could make up for what he had done, although he had no idea how. As he prayed he trusted the shepherds' message and the good news of the message grew within him -- this child, this helpless child, was to be the promised savior. He asked God to save him, not merely save him from his guilt and the consequences of his deed, but save him for a new life -- for peace.
He had not decided what to do about the injured soldier, but he knew that the next day he would crawl from his cave to live for peace. However he would do it, he now had the power of peace in his heart.
Now, near the infant Jesus, Yarib, one of the Sicarii, slept again. That night in his chilly crypt he had made a new vow that wherever he went or whatever happened he would do everything he could to bring about God's peace into this world.
Discussion Questions
Text: Luke 2:1-20
1. What immediate responses do you have to the story?
2. If you could have a conversation with one of the characters in this story which would you speak with and what would you ask or say?
3. Do you identify with any character in the story?
4. What is the "nearest" you have been to Jesus' birth?
5. Have you been mistaken about God's purposes, and have you had an experience where you came to understand the meaning of Jesus' peace?
6. Have marriage and children changed your faith?
7. In that Christ rewrites our lives, what from this story would you like to have happen in your life?
