IN HONOR OF THE VIRGIN BIRTH OF THE MESSIAH
Shena Lee was small for her age, diminutive, but not weak by any
definition of the word. She lived in a small village in a small valley
which drew its water from a small river, and somehow this smallness
pleased her. She grew up loving that small village, small valley, small
river, all cradled between gigantic forever snow peaked mountains; and
below the heavens which hid the heavenly home of the God she worshiped.
When she was 13, and before she was betrothed, the village lords came to
her home, to her parents and to her, to nominate her to play the part of
The Virgin in the annual feast of the Birth of the Savior.
She was honored to tears.
But, then, they indicated that she would need to submit to an
'examination' to confirm that she was, indeed, virgin.
Shena lee bowed her head, so that they would not see the deep anger for
such personal insult which she felt all but over power her.
Without speaking, she rose and left the room. She returned with the
families most prised possession, handed down from her father's father to
her father; the entire Word of God, with notes and references, a
concordance, dictionary, maps and study guide, all printed in a single,
huge wood and leather volume, in their own language. It was older than
her father's father, priceless, beyond priceless.
With reverence, she laid it on the table before the gods of her village.
"With all due respect," she said, "please show me where the mother of
our Messiah submitted to such an examination."
The men were stunned, then angry, then apoplectique!
Several long moments of unspeakable tension stressed the air beyond its
forbearance, then the three men, purple faced, suddenly stood and left
the house in anger and insult!
The silence in the room was all but unbearable. It lasted a long, long time.
Then Her father rose, and said, "It is not good that a man correct his
children in anger," and he left the house.
Tears ran from her eyes and flowed as rivers down her face. She was
unaware of them. Her emotions and thoughts raged to and fro, between the
offered honor and the actual insult, between her act of robing her
parents of an honor due them and her belief that she had done what was
right before her God.
"Go to your bed, girl," her mother said, "you will eat nothing until you
stand before your father."
Hominin stomped and stalked and strode with long angry paces toward the
hills. One small part, and oh, be honest, it was a small part, of his
anger toward his daughter was that negotiations for her betrothal had
been almost completed -- and a fine marriage it would have been! Would
have been! Would have been, because now he knew beyond all doubt that
the offer would be withdrawn.
That is, be honest, O my soul, be honest, that is small compared to the
knowledge that the offer had been made and his daughter, Oh! Stubborn
child of my flesh! His daughter had insulted the village Magistrates,
the rulers, the gods of their city, with her rejection! Why?
The almost full moon having risen during the day and now set, he
returned to his home in moonless darkness.
His wife had prepared for his return, hoping to avoid any anger for her
own responsibility for "that girl's" conduct. "Your Daughter" they
sometimes accused each other, sometimes in jest, sometimes in anger. All
her feelings, her emotions, her hopes and expectations, her fears, her
concern for her husband; and yes, do not mistake it, it was all for her
husband and nothing for 'that girl.' All of it, I say, was crushed and
thrust aside in her concern for her husband. She, herself, was a
daughter of the old ways, as she had attempted to raise her daughter in
the old ways. Her husband was her lord, and she would slit 'that girl's'
very throat if she threatened to disturb her lord's house! And if,
if... She choked that thought.
She prepared for her lord's return, and waited. And waited.
It was far into the night, and the candle had burned out and been
replaced, and burned low again when the lord of His house returned.
"What have you done with 'that girl'?"
"My husband, I sent her to bed without her meal, to wait on your
correction." But, my husband, enough about her. Come, I have prepared a
meal for you."
"I am not hungry." She heard the sullen anger in his voice, even if he
thought nothing of it.
"If you wish. But please allow me to set something before you." She
touched him, then caressed him, and gentled him into a chair.
She hurried, then, and brought a small glass of rice wine and some
savory meat cakes.
She bowed her head so that her husband would not see the anger she felt,
and mistake it for himself. "Let me correct 'that girl', she thought."
But she did not speak it.
It was a long silence which followed. For some reason he could never
explain, he could not eat of those cakes. His daughter, that stubborn,
intelligent, stubborn, beautiful, stubborn get of his own flesh would
not eat until he corrected her, and he would not eat until he knew his
correction was just.
That silence followed them to bed. That silence was still present in the
morning when he rose to face the new day. They knew full well what this
day would bring. The "word" would have spread, and they would be known
as the parents of the daughter who had refused...
....Refused to be examined, to play the part of the most blessed woman to
ever walk upon the face of this cursed earth.
It was a long night with no supper. She remained in the tiny bedroom,
past breakfast, past lunch. Then, dinner time passed, and she received
no summons to stand before her father, or invitation to appear for the
evening meal.
It seemed, sometimes during the long wait, that she felt sorrow or
embarrassment or, sometimes, some vague joy and sense of approval. But
this all blended into a not exactly savory blend of, almost,
apprehension and sorrow.
She tried to grasp each of these feelings as they flowed through her. In
her prayers to her Lord and her God, she felt approval, which she took
for acknowledgment of her understanding that virginity is a matter of
honor and trust. Yes, not only self honor, but a woman's honor for her
future husband.
It is a matter of trust, she knew, that we believe the mother of the
Child of God was a virgin -- to think otherwise -- No, no, it was NOT
thinkable to think otherwise!
It is not just my honor, she thought, it is the honor I do to my
parents, their trust in me, that my husband's family trusts my parents
and thus my husband trusts them, and me. To betray that trust... to...
to... words would not come!
But then the loss of the honor of being selected, of playing that part
of the Virgin Mother of God's Only Begotten Child, which honor would
reflect on her parents... and then doubts would assail her again.
It seemed, that, sometime between lunch and the evening meal (before
which she expected to be corrected by her father) she came to a
compromise, a resting place between the loss and the ... no, it was just
a loss. But, it was a loss balanced by her understanding of honor and
trust, and she preferred the honor to the dishonor which was offered.
But, then the time for the evening meal passed, and the house was quiet
as a tomb. She waited for the judgment of her father.
He rose without speaking, refused, with no words, to brake his fast and
left his home to face those dragons and tigers and robbers and enemies
of Truth and honor, indeed, the enemies of God, where he might find them.
And find them he did.
Rumor is a vapor which passes through walls, but news of another's fall
is a shout that leaps walls with glee.
When her husband refused to eat, Yelena also refused to eat. When the
two servants were offered food, they, being wise, also refused to eat.
While 'that girl' waited the correction of her father without eating,
while the Master of the house refused to eat, while her mother refused
to eat, let not a soul eat. So be it. Those fine savory meat cakes were
thrown to the dogs.
It was three days. Three unbearable days. Three days while the rumor and
innuendo and ridicule and insinuation and accusation and libel and
slander and all hell unknown to man or virgin swirled around their
heads, and in their very face! He had been forced to hire a body guard
for his family!
Sometime in that three days, Hominin came to a realization: No, two
realizations.
First, that his impulsive decision not to correct his daughter until he
could do it with Justice, had been correct.
Standing on a hill, looking across the valley he loved with all his
being, at his home, his land and possessions, the river, the grand
forever snow capped peaks, and the heavens above which hid the heavenly
home of the God he worshiped; he knew:
He knew that Justice, Equity, Truth and Honor were all ingredients in
what men call "Holy." Looking across all he loved, under that God he
loved, he knew that to render judgment and correction with love, truth
and honor is to honor the God one serves.
And, and, he knew he loved 'that girl' -- who was of his flesh and so
like his own father! Why could she not be like other females of the
family!? What is it, he raged, why, he pondered toward God (and received
no answer); why, I say, why must 'that girl' be so damn intelligent and
sharp and so Damn Quick to put her finger exactly on a truth!
And so, at long last, he came to the second realization: the very point
of the Truth; that very point on which his daughter had so deftly placed
her finger; the very point, he knew, of mankind's relationship with God.
Faith. Trust. No, now he saw with a clearer mind; she had not refused to
serve, she had just asked to be shown where the Mother of The Saviour
had endured such an insult.
It was, in a very real way, a relief! He had withstood the doubts and
false accusations. It was empowering! He stood, then, and admired and
loved all which revealed itself to his eyes and to his mind; and then,
his heart filled to overflowing, he went to his knees, bowed his head to
his God, and blessed Him.
It was three days, with a glass of water in the morning, at noon and at
evening.
Those three days had blended together; being almost pointless after that
first night and day. Then, on the third day, mid afternoon on that third
day, something changed. There were sounds in the house.
In mid afternoon, old Tricia came into the room, smiling, "Prepare," she
said, "I am to prepare you to stand before your father!" She was
smiling! She held out a new dress for her inspection. It was white!
White with magnificent lace and white ribbons! "Bathe! We will do your
hair and prepare you!"
When Shena Lee came from her room into the main room, all her family was
there, dressed in fine clothing of every color of the rainbow as if to
celebrate. The table was set out, with flowers and decorations, with
wine and candles, with the families finest serving.
And there was her father, seated in his chair, with his sons on each side.
She came to her father, her head bowed.
"My daughter," he said, "you are no longer a child, that you should look
down before me. You are a woman now. Look into my eyes."
Those words stunned her. They were words used of a married woman, mother
or widow! She felt confusion, and a little fear. She listened again to
his words... there was a smile in his voice!
She looked up to see her father's eyes. There was love in his eyes!
"It taken me too long, far too long, to understand the dishonor which
offended you."
The rest of the evening seemed to blur, for, indeed, there were tears,
and tears cloud sight in equal proportion as they sharpen vision.
It was three long years, then, which followed. Three long, hard years,
one long hard year after the other. Long years. Hard years.
Spring came early, or late, or not at all. Harvest came late or early,
or not at all. Drought, Famine, Storm and Flood -- all followed one
another for three long, hard years.
That does not include the bolt of lightning which destroyed the roof of
the Temple. Then we should also mention the meteor, or asteroid, or
whatever men call it.
The temple was bad enough: What, with the priest damning the
congregation, the entire city, the entire population of the valley, for
abandoning the celebration of the Virgin (which, of course, had been
caused by his daughter's refusal to serve, and the furor which
followed). The controversy which followed -- and while the priest yet
spoke, lightning struck the roof of the temple! It is a wonder that only
three were killed!
And the asteroid, or meteor, or what ever you want to call it... which
pointed like a flaming finger of God across the valley, and erupted in
brilliant flash of light and unspeakable thunderous roar against the
mountain!
Standing on a hill looking across the valley he loved with all his
being, at his home, his land and possessions, the river, the grand
forever snow capped peaks, and the heavens above which hid the heavenly
home of the God he worshiped; wondering about the changes...
Over the last three, hard, years, he had come to a realization. He was
not exactly sure when, or how, but, one day it was just... there. In
pondering upon God, His Nature, His Ways, he had realized that He knew
something of Him which was not written in that priceless book, but was
written in the pages of life, on the pages of the world, on the pages of
his mind, in his heart.
Oh, not that he could articulate this well enough to say it aloud,
especially not to someone educated as a priest, but he knew it. He knew
that one begins their walk with God by learning of Him from a teacher or
parent, then reading of Him and His ways in the Bible. But, he also
knew, now, it is in living with Him every day, in walking with Him
everywhere, that one learns the final lessons of Who He Is.
He turned his thoughts, then, to what he thought he knew of Him, and
pondered on what drastic changes had come upon his beloved valley, and
wondered how, or why, Shena Lee's refusal of ...
.... While he pondered toward God, not questioning God's right or
authority or Just Judgment... only seeking some understanding...
....The ground begin to shake!
He thought to run... but where, in which direction?
It began with a vibration and became a shaking.
No, it was not 'a shaking' -- it was a rag held in the hand of an angry
God; shaken as a woman would shake her dust rag!
He fell to the ground, but the ground was not there!
Then the ground rose up to strike him as if he were a rock bounding down
the face of a cliff! Again, it struck him, Again he fell! He hoped to
lay on the ground, if the ground would but allow him!
There was no strength in him! Indeed, indeed, no thought to stand!
It stopped.
Then the ground before him exploded and flew into the air! It was an
eruption of water! It blew as high as any tree he had ever seen, and
that high again! The spout of water flowed into the sky, then it began
to widen, to broaden, to calm (if that is the right word) a little, so
that it just flowed, finally, from the ground and began to flow down the
hill.
He came to his senses, then, and rushed home. The village was all but
destroyed. When he reached his own home, it was fallen into a heap, and
he felt terror clutch at his heart.
But, The Lord had been kind, and his wife, daughter and servants had run
out of the house as it collapsed.
It was only hours until someone noticed that the river had began to
lower, and, in a day, it was dry.
It was 3 days before the death toll was counted.
Then, someone noticed that a spring had opened on his land, and flowed,
on his land, down to the dry river bed. When someone came to ask for
water, Hominin said, "It is a gift of God."
It was soon discovered that a landslide had damned the river. So, in
time, they were able to cut a channel into that slide, and the river
returned to its course.
It was, then, almost a year after the earthquake that the Elders of the
village sent a servant with a request that they be allowed to visit.
They came to the home of Hominin, and to his daughter. The entire family
was present when they, the gods of the village, came to present their
respect to the lord of the house, to his family, and to his daughter:
"May we offer honor to you, and to your family: please allow us to be
brief; we know it has been too long since our village gave honor to the
Virgin Birth of our Savior, and we wish to correct that error;
Therefore, we hope to prevail upon your daughter, Shena Lee, to serve in
the capacity of the Virgin Mother in this celebration of His Birth. May
we then, offer that honor to your daughter?"
Hominin glanced at his daughter, and if there were any communication
between them, none know it but father and daughter.
"We are honored by your request. However, we need to agree that as the
Virginity of the Mother of our Messiah was a matter of Trust and Honor,
so is the virginity of my daughter."
"We acknowledge that, and respect your honor, and your daughter's honor."
"My daughter will be honored to serve her Lord."
It was if Life were breathed into the village! The horrors of the past
years were forgotten in their preparations for the festival. The memory
of man is a tricky beast at best, but some do learn, and remember, the
lessons of life.
Spring erupted with explosive exuberance. Flowers and trees and blooms
of every kind shouted for attention and sunlight!
It was a magnificent festival! Indeed, in the midst of the festival, a
warm, gentle rain began, welcome and refreshing.
The next few years passed almost too quickly for Hominin and Shena Lee.
She received many proposals of marriage, and was married early in the
spring following the renewal of the Festival of the Virgin Birth. He was
elevated to an Elder of the City.
Hominin lived longer than any man in his village's memory, and held his
daughter's children on his lap into their third generation. Indeed, it
is said that when he went to be with his God, his children to the fourth
generation sat at the foot of his bed, and he suddenly sat up in his bed
and said, "my Lord!" Then fell to sleep.
Glenn
--
www.thelittlebookopened.org [Key words:] "The Little Book";
Glenn McClary, servitum, gaedhealic, oldwetdog
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