centre of the universe - the dreaming

"King Harod," says the first, "is not interested in a Messiah."
"He is afraid he'll be dethroned by the King of the Jews," says the second. "Murder," says the third, slowly shaking his head.
The first Magus rises to his feet. "Every firstborn son in Jerusalem," he begins nervously, "is to be killed."
The second Magus ...says, "His men are even now, searching for..."
"innocents," states the third.

"Who ARE you freaks?" Joseph blurts as the blood drains from Mary's face.
"When the Rabbis have circumcised Him," begins the first Magus after a brief incredulous glare,
"and named Him," continues the second, who has hidden the hookah in the folds of his robe, "we shall present Him with..."
"Gifts," says the third, who is now outside the barn.
Mary leans against the wall. "This is just freaking PEACHY," she gasps. "What the hell are we going to do?"
"We have to find a Rabbi," Joseph says absently.
"Bugger the Rabbi!" Mary shrieks. "How long do you think it will take Herod to find the damned sign at the damned Inn?"
"My family lives here, Mare. I'll find a Rabbi tonight." Joseph pockets a few coins and closes the door behind him.
"Well, fuck," Mary says as she sinks down into the straw to nurse her baby.

"Okay," Joseph pants as he bursts in the door. "Rabbi will do the brit milah the day after tomorrow!"
Mary is nervous. "Two days!? What are we going to do until then? That stupid sign will have every one of Herod's men here by dawn!"
Joseph runs his hand through his hair. "We could ask to stay with my cousins!" Mary's nervous glance turns to a glare. "You have cousins in Jerusalem and I gave birth in a fricken' BARN?"

Mary has That Look again. "See, it's like this: my cousins are my mother's cousin's aunt's kids, so it's not - look. You said 'stop now or I'll stab you with a stick'. I did what you said. They live all the way over on the other side of the city." Mary sighs. "Whatevs. What if Herod finds us before then?"
Joseph grins.... "Derek and Gerald are posted outside. If they see anyone, they're going to hide us in the fields."

"How will the Magi find us?" Mary asks later, when the baby is sleeping.
"Who?" Joseph asks, as he eyes up a couple of beams for a cradle.
"The MAGI, Joey. The Zoroastrians?"
"Huh?"
"The guys in fancy dresses."
"OH! Those weird dudes! I dunno. They'll probably follow that big flashing star that hangs around wherever the kid is."
"The...big...flashing...star..." Mary's face turns ashen white.

"DUDES!" Derek cries from just outside the barn. "Have you seen that creepy flashing STAR lately? I bet it's scaring the crap out of all the other shepherds!"
"Bad time, Derek," Joseph shouts, staring as Mary sinks heavily into the straw beside the manger.
"It's SO BRIGHT!"
"Not now, Derek," Joseph grits his teeth.
"We're gonna be able to see Herod's flunkies for MILES!" Mary and Joseph exchange a surprised glance.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, King Herod beats a servant. "You will do as I command!" he screams, his face purple. "I don't care WHAT'S happening in the sky! I want you to get out there..." he pauses as the servant expires. Quite rude of the filthy knave, Herod thinks, as he hollers for another servant. The one good thing about being king is of course an endless pool of servants to beat and firstborn sons to murder.

A little-known fact about the 7th day of Christmas is that it's the day Mary and Joseph spent at the Jerusalem library checking out the latest Tom Clancy novel. Herod's men didn't think to search the library. Mary gave up on Tom Clancy and checked out some "cooking in the desert" books by early evening.

"There we go!" Rabbi announces. "Just a little off the top, ha-ha! Have you chosen a name for the child?"
"Yes," Mary says reverently.
"It's not Derek OR Gerald!" Joesph proclaims proudly.
"Notderekorgerald?" The Rabbi asks.
"JESUS!" Mary shouts. "Just name him Jesus!"
"Has either of you ever heard the name, 'Immanuel'?" asks a familiar deep voice from a darkened corner of the temple.

"It is the name by which we know the Messiah," says the second Magus.
"Messiah!?" The Rabbi shouts, "what **Messiah**!"
"Um," Joseph says, glancing around nervously.
"What, this Jesus baby? That's putting the cart before the horse." The Rabbi laughs with derision.
"Wait," the third Magus whispers, and his voice fills the room.

"Wait!?" the Rabbi sneers, "I've been *waiting* for a thousand years. I'll *wait* for a thousand more if I must. Messiah." He scoffs and offers a quick blessing before he leaves the temple, shaking his head.
"Quickly," the first Magus says quietly, emerging from the shadows, "You must leave this place."
"It is no longer safe for you in this city," says the second.
"Herod," says the third, his voice full of disgust.

"We have brought gifts," the first Magus gently guides Mary by the elbow.
"They will help you on your journey," the second Magus walks at Joseph's side.
"Frankincense," the third Magus whispers as they pass him at the temple door.
"I've heard of gold..." Mary says.
"Very dear commodities," the first Magus answers.
"...In very high demand," says the second.
"Sacred," finishes the third, who closes the temple door.

Mary and Joseph follow the Magi through Jerusalem. "Frankincense is used by holy men; you can use it to pay them, should you need a hiding place in their temples," the first Magus says.
"Myrrh is sacred in Egypt and in Rome. You can trade it for money in either place," says the second.
The third Magus steps forward and removes the veil from his face. He holds out a silk bag that seems very heavy. "Gold," he says.

And so Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus join the Magi's caravan, their gifts wrapped in sackcloth and packed in their saddlebags. The caravan exits Jerusalem and begins the long trek across the desert. As they exit the city, the Magi announce: "Behold! The Lord God made man. Immanuel, who is called Jesus!" Everybody in the caravan bows their heads. In the distance, the screaming of mothers can be heard.

Thus endeth the lesson.

Labels: Christmas, stories, true story

It came to pass that a Sodom of Shepherds were elbowing each other in a tiny barn. Joseph was passing out cigars; Mary was glaring.
"Dude! What're you going to name him?"
"We were thinking maybe Derek," Joseph says, puffing away.
"We are NOT naming Him Derek", Mary spits.
"Derek is a great name!" Joseph replies.
"Yeah, Dude, that's *my* name!"
"We are NOT naming the Messiah Derek," Mary says through gritted teeth.


"How about Gerald?" someone says. A lamb bleats plaintively.
"Right," Mary smooths her skirt. "Thank you all for coming. We have a name chosen. You will learn it in" she appears to check the time, "five days. Go Away." She folds her arms over her chest and watches them self-consciously file out. She sighs heavily. "Thank God that's over," she mutters.
"Shalom," rumbles a deep voice in the dark doorway "We are here"

"Joey, as God is my witness..."
"Whoa, Mare, I totally don't even know these dudes."
"Then who?"
"Zoroastrian Magi, milady," the deep voice replies.
"Who, with the what now?" Joseph stutters.
"Magi, sirrah," a second voice answers. "Followers of Zarathustra. We have come to see the Anointed One."
"Goyim?" Mary asks.
"Hardly," a third voice answers. The shadows begin to move.

"Shalom," Mary says. The rustle of robes betrays the Magi's movements. Shadows unfurl into brilliant satin colours: purples, reds, blues, and layers of cotton in shades of sand and sky.
"His birth was foretold", the first Magus' voice deep as night.
"By Messengers from...", the second's voice is like pebbles dropping into water. "Heaven." The third Magus finishes.
"WHERE are you dudes from?" Joseph asks.

Mary sighs deeply and rolls her eyes. "I hope you don't mind...er...sirs?...but you see, I've only just recently given birth, and..."
"Ah," the first Magus gasps, drawing back slightly.
"You are..." the second continues.
"Unclean," says the third.
"NO," Mary insists. "I'm TIRED. Could you come back tomorrow?" The Magi bow deeply and seem to simply disappear from the barn.

"With all these visitors, SOMEBODY might have offered us a place to stay that doesn't have...poop...on the floor." Mary says, yawning.
"Wait," Joseph says. He cradles his wife, who cradles the Son of God, and spreads his robe on the straw behind her.
"Thank you," Mary says, eyes glistening.
Joseph sighs. "I just wish...the kid LOOKED like me, you know?"
"He'll be a carpenter, just like you," she replies, smiling.
"Yeah," Joseph whispers in her ear as she closes her eyes. "A solid education in nails and wood is a fine way to make a living."
For reasons she would not understand for 33 years, Mary shivers at Joseph's words.

Mary's been able to bathe in the trough, and now that her bleeding has stopped, she wants a proper bath. Joseph asks at the Inn. "He, uh, said you could go and bathe there."
"What is it?" Mary asks.
"You'll see," Joseph says. Mary tucks Baby God into her sling and tentatively approaches the Inn. She frowns when she spies a newly-painted sign dangling above the door: הבית של מלך היהודים

After the washing-up, Mary returns to the barn, where she finds Joseph inhaling smoke from a hose attached to a fancy pot. Sitting opposite him, on three low milking stools, are the Magi in their jewelled satin robes. One wears a rolled turban, one wears a veil over his face, and one wears a sort of crown. The fancy pot makes a bubbling sound every time they inhale. Each of the Magi rises to bow at her entrance.

"Greetings, Most Holy Mother," says the one with the deep voice.
"Blessings upon thee," says the second Magus.
"Shalom," says the third. Mary bows her head in return.
"We have been to see the King," the first Magus says sadly.
"There is news," the second shakes his head.
"Terrible news," the third finishes as he coils the hose over the fancy pot.

Labels: Christmas, stories, true story

It is morally wrong, I say...
...It is wrong, morally, I correct myself.
Morally speaking, I begin...
how can someone be 'morally speaking'? Really. Either you've a set of moral behaviours that you adhere to all the time, in which case you are *always* 'morally speaking', or you do not have a set of moral behaviours that you adhere to, in which case you are 'amorally speaking'. OR, I continue, you have a set of *immoral* behaviours to which you adhere, in which case you are 'IMmorally speaking'. Like, all the time.

There is a pause. I realise, people are staring at me.

I'm just saying, I say. I'm just saying that you can't really start a declaration of judgement, from a morals point of view, by saying "Morally speaking". I mean, you *can*, but it's not really accurate, so you *shouldn't*.

The pause is still there. It's waiting like the first after-dinner fart that no one wants to let go. The pause shifts uncomfortably in its chair.

It's just that, someone else says, glancing furtively around the room. It's just that I think no one here...I mean, I don't presume to speak for *everyone*...

Oh, but you *do*, someone else says.

Thank you, the first person says. Not the first person as in the narrator...I mean, I don't mean the first person narrator says "Thank you". I mean the first person who spoke up after that great uncomfortable pause. That person speaks again, and says, Thank you. What I *meant* to say...that is, what I was going to say before...well, it's just that I don't think anyone...

Knows what you're talking about, the second speaker says.

Well, I should think that's obvious, I say. I'm talking about how it's inaccurate to say "Morally speaking" when what you really mean to say is something like "from the standpoint of an argument in which a particular moral position is to be considered". Or something.

Well, someone else says. This is someone completely separate from the first two someones, neither of whom are the narrator, first OR second. But I think the issue is that no one is really sure where that statement *came* from.

It came from me! I exclaim. I'm *very* good at dispelling confusion.

Er, said someone. This was the first someone.

Um, said someone else. This was the third someone.

You see, the second someone said, it's just that...well...we're not really sure what *sparked* that statement. Its...

Genesis? I asked.

Yes, its genesis. Exactly! Said the second person.

Is that important? I asked.

Again, a pause filled the room. I suspect it had been at the berries and cream, which would explain how it grew so large so fast.

I mean, is it important where the statement came from? What its genesis might have been? The statement is true regardless.

At this point, everyone else in the room stared blankly at me for some time, then each of them, each of them **to a man/woman/child** began a spontaneous conversation with the person to his/her immediate left.

Coincidence? I think not.

Labels: fire sinks, ring made from a spoon, stories