Eli cursed once again. This was the fourth time in a day sheep had passed behind him and he, unaware, had tripped backwards into the mud. This last time had Eli struggling to stand back up, tripping again, falling down a hill as he tried to get his footing, and then slipping again. The sheep had done a good job of clearing anything that might give him the least bit of footing. He hoped that none of the other shepherds had seen him.
He looked up the hill. Samuel half-smiled. Samuel wouldn’t make fun of Eli but the
one-handed shepherd always seemed to catch him at his worse moments. Each time Samuel would tell Eli, “Time to
move on. I think the Most High has
different plans for us.” He pointed with
his good hand to the north. It was
Samuel’s way of saying that the sheep had grazed long enough on this land. Nothing left.
This last time Eli shouted back up to Samuel, “Well, it’s all mud! I don’t know how we’re supposed to . . . “
And Eli’s feet went out from underneath him, straight up in the air, as he went
straight to his back and slid further down the hill. Half-embarrassed and half-frustrated, Eli
got up, pounded his staff into the ground, and promptly fell again.
Samuel observed and shouted
after Eli, “Ah, it would appear the Most High’s good earth did not enjoy being
punished by your staff. Your feet must
make peace with the earth, tiny one.”
They had been safe
here. The property owner was nowhere to
be found, they were high enough to spot predators, and there was just enough
wind block from an adjacent cliff so they could sleep even when the temperature
dropped. But the mud said so. As Samuel had said, the Most High’s good
earth had said so.
Eli still had little say in
the group of shepherds. He was the
youngest, his family having recently sold him to the sheep owner so that they
all could eat one more week. Samuel was
the oldest but not the loudest. Samuel
would observe, suggest, and then wait for the rest of the group to agree. Eli was drawn to Samuel because the first
thing Samuel did was to make him a scrip for food he might secure, share from
his own scrip, and then teach him how to drink ewe milk. “The Most High does not want any of the
people to die, tiny one. It is the Most
High’s good wish that you know tender mercies.”
Most of the shepherds steered clear of Samuel because he was always
trying to teach them old Hebrew songs.
Eli didn’t know all of their meanings but he wasn’t going to leave Samuel’s
side because he sang loudly and not too well.
The shepherds had all agreed. The sheep no longer had anything to graze on
in this spot. They would have to move,
carefully choose another spot where they were unnoticed by the property owner, somewhere
out of the way and off the regular path and road. This could mean walking for days. Eli took one of the pieces of meat from his
scrip, and quickly chewed on it before running ahead to walk by Samuel. “You ok?”
Samuel asked. “Your clothes are
the color of mud. I don’t think I’ve
ever seen someone fall with such regularity.” Samuel smiled.
Eli, not recognizing Samuel’s tone, defended himself, “These sheep are
so dumb. They have no idea where they
are walking. I always end up tripping
over them. They’re just stupid animals.”
“And yet, tiny one, I have
not seen one of them trip over your legs and fall.” Samuel’s grin broadened. “You have begun to talk about the sheep like
the one who owns the sheep. This is not
how the Most High sees them. Days and
nights they provide the milk, the warmth, the meat for us to walk. The first time I shared ewe milk with you . .
. how did it taste to you? It was the
goodness the Most High intends for you.
Warm in your belly the ewe milk was, right? The sheep watch over us. We watch over them. The Most High watches over us all.”
Eli walked some time without
responding. He knew that Samuel also
watched over him. He did not want to
offend Samuel, lose his protection. But he
did not see the evidence of the Most High watching over him. He wanted to respond. Eli finally did ask, “We are Jews, shepherds
below that, what does the Most High have to do with us? We live in the fields. I was sold into slavery by my family. You have children you have never seen.”
“Tiny one, do you think this
is ordained by the Most High to be so? You
and I are both Jews. We know something
most don’t. Though there may be times
when the Most High is revealed in miracle and burning bush, often the Most High
is found when we struggle. Moses was a
shepherd. Yet the Most High walked with
him. Do you know how many times Moses
tried to get out of his divine mission?
Five times. Five times. Being a
leader doesn’t mean you’re not terrified.
Miracles change things one moment in time, tiny one. Walking day by day, sometimes in struggle,
changes things forever. Today the Most
High revealed to me you are hungry for bread.”
He pulled a scrap of bread
from his scrip and extended it to Eli.
Eli looked at Samuel, not sure what to say. Samuel nodded for him to take it. Eli slowly took it from Samuel’s hand, felt the
dryness of it in his hand, traced over it with his thumb and he considered
Samuel’s words, and then quickly ate the bread.
“There,” Samuel said, “in the day to day I changed you forever. In the day to day. Bread that came from the earth, the earth you
pounded with your staff, provided by the Most High.”
Samuel began to sing one of
his old songs, “Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech . . .”
Eli smiled as he chomped. “Again with the songs! All night and day with the songs! Do you think God gives you answers when you
sing like that?”
“Tiny one, a bird doesn’t
sing because it has the answers. A bird
sings because it has a song.” Samuel
said, extending his hands outward to the horizon.
“You have a song all day!”
“I am a bird!” (pointing the index finger of his good
hand to the sky) Samuel pulled more bread from his scrip and ate it with Eli
as they walked. “Lean into this cold
wind, tiny one, the Most High is on the move.”
Samuel pointed like the wind with his bad hand.
They walked for hours,
Samuel singing, and Eli sated, trying to join Samuel in song when he recognized
repetitive choruses. There they were
walking on land that was not their own with sheep that were not their own. Samuel would stop, throw his chest out, and
proclaim, “All this is part of the Most High!
Rich with goodness.” It became their regular practice. Eli would stop with him, wait, and the two
would walk again--Eli with changed heart and the bird. Evening was soon coming. They would need to find a place soon.
While he could still see
Samuel’s face, Eli asked, “What happened to your hand?”
“My hand? My hand.
My hand. It happened because the
sheep owner and I had a disagreement about the sheep?”
“A disagreement?”
“Yes. Sadly, the sheep owner
believes the sheep belong to him and I believe the sheep belong to the Most
High. Have you ever had sheep tail, tiny
one?” He smacked his thick, dry lips.
“Mmmmm….so good. With eggs, you taste heaven. Shepherds will tell stories about why a sheep
lost its tail so that the sheep owner does not become angry. It became damaged when the sheep fell on the
path. It backed into a shepherd. Any of a number of gentle lies to justify
having cut off the tail. I had worked a
long day and knew that the Most High would want me to celebrate and have sheep’s
tail with my eggs. One of the sheep
owner’s hired hands saw me cut off the tail.
So we had a disagreement.”
“But your hand . . .”
“Yes, my hand was held over
the fire until it melted. This
disagreement was very painful.” Samuel
ran his middle finger of his good hand over the scarred mangle of what used to
be his hand. He turned the mangle over
and back again. (long pause and
change of tone) “I think the Most High agreed with me though. It is a reminder that the sheep owner’s way
is almost never the way of the Most High.
The sheep owner wants the shepherd to be terrified, tiny one. The Most High gives us milk, warmth, meat,
and divine mission. Day by day. Day by day.”
The sun had set and evening
came—a new day. Each of the shepherds
found a place with sheep in sight, out of the wind, to sleep for the
night. Samuel and Eli huddled together
underneath a huge outcropping of rocks opposite the other shepherds. Eli pulled a crust of bread from his scrip he
had found on the edge of the market in the city two days ago. He handed it to Samuel. “I change you forever.”
Samuel took the bread with
his smile and said, “You changed me forever.
Bread from the earth, given by the Most High, tiny one. Baruch ata
Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz.” Eli sang along as best he was able. “Now, tiny one, the sheep watch over us
again,” Samuel said, as he reversed his woolen mantle to the warm side. Eli followed and both of them blew on their
hands as they leaned in on one another to sleep. “You keep watch first, tiny
one. I shall sleep. Day by day the Most High, tiny one. Day by day.”
Suddenly, an angel of the
Most High stood in the middle of the flock, and the glory of the Most High
shone around them all. Eli slowly stood,
his mouth open, seeing that shepherds from the opposite side of the field, were
also standing, deciding whether to run, wondering why the Most High would want
to punish them beyond their worldly existence.
“Do not be afraid,” the angel said, “look at the world and see what the
Most High is doing in this moment, I bring you good news of great joy for all
people. For today in the city of
Bethlehem, is a savior who seeks to liberate and free the people. And this will be a sign for shepherds, that you
will find a child in a humble place, a feeding trough, wrapped in bands of
cloth.” Even more suddenly, Eli looked
around and there were an army of angels, brightening the air, filling the earth
with the Most High’s glory. “Glory to
God in the highest,” they sang, “and on earth peace among the people with whom
God wishes goodwill.”
When the angels left just as
suddenly, Eli came together with the other shepherds, full of excitement, almost
unable to speak, their eyes wide open.
“We must go!” Eli shouted first.
“We must go to Bethlehem!” It was
the first time the other shepherds did not shun him for speaking. Instead, they nodded in agreement and
collected their things to make the trip to Bethlehem.
Except . . . Eli turned to
where he had found refuge for the night with Samuel. Samuel was not there. “What do you think, tiny one? Is the air not filled with the Most High?” He followed Samuel’s voice to see him in the
dark, leaning on his staff. “Go and
learn what I know, tiny one. The Most
High wants goodness for Jewish shepherds, celebrates with sheep tails and eggs.”
“You are not coming with
us? Samuel, you must come! Samuel, you have to come with me. Who will sing terrible songs?”
Samuel shook his head. “Remember everything. Tell me of the Most High and the divine
mission given once again to shepherds.
You must remember everything to tell me.
I need to hear once again that the Most High fills the air with
goodness, watches us over us with sheep--milk, warmth, meat, tail.”
“Bread.” Eli said softly.
“Tiny one?”
“Bread.” Eli said louder.
Samuel smiled and shook his
head, “Bread from the earth.” (long
pause) “The sheep have to look after
someone. I will remain.”
“I am afraid. I am so afraid.” Eli silently turned to head in the direction
of Bethlehem. His shoulders had fallen
with his excitement. In his short life,
Eli had only known goodness in the world through Samuel. Now to leave him . . . but he began walking.
“Tiny one.” Eli did not hear Samuel. (louder)
“Tiny one!” Now Eli refused
to hear him as he brushed away tears on his sleeve. “Eli!” Eli finally turned to Samuel . . . now in the
distance. “Being on divine mission
doesn’t mean you aren’t terrified. Day
by day. Remember everything. Return to tell me. Remember everything.”
Eli shouted back. “You changed me forever. I will remember everything.”
And with that, Eli ran up
ahead to join the other shepherds . . . in divine mission. Amen.
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