Excerpt from the novel: BEN-HUR, by Lew Wallace

Christ is born

In ancient Judea, at a certain hour each evening, every Israelite stood and looked toward Jerusalem, crossed his hands upon his breast and prayed. It was the sacred ninth hour when sacrifices were offered in the Temple on Moriah, and God was supposed to be there. A little later, the lights were put out, and there was silence and then sleep.

About midnight someone on the roof cried out, “What light is that in the sky? Awake, brethren, awake and see!”

The people, half asleep, sat up and looked; then they became wide-awake, though wonderstruck. And the stir spread to the court below. Soon the entire tenantry of the house and court enclosure were out gazing at the sky.

A ray of light, beginning at a height immeasurably beyond the nearest stars was dropping obliquely to the earth with its sides blending softly into the night darkness, its core a roseate splendor. It seemed to rest on the nearest mountain southeast of the town, making a pale corona on top of the summit. In its light, those upon the roof saw each other’s faces filled with wonder.

Steadily, the ray lingered, and wonder changed to awe and fear. The timid trembled, and the boldest spoke in whispers.

After that there was silence on the house-top, broken only once again as the mystery continued.

“Brethren!” exclaimed a Jew of venerable mien, “what we see is the ladder our father Jacob saw in his dream. Blessed be the Lord of our fathers!”

Two miles southeast of Bethlehem there was a plain separated from the town by an intervening swell of the mountain. Besides being well sheltered from the north winds, the vale was covered with a growth of sycamore, dwarf oak, and pine trees, while in the glen and ravines adjoining there were thickets of olive and mulberry, all at this season of the year invaluable for the support of sheep, goats, and cattle, of which the wandering flocks consisted.

At the side farthest from the town, close under a bluff, there was an extensive sheep shelter, ages old. The sheep-pen attached to it was of more importance to the shepherds who drove their charges thither, than the house itself.

On the morning of the night of the angels appearance, a number of shepherds seeking fresh walks for their flocks, led them up to this plain. When the sun at length went down, they led the way to the sheep shelter, and by nightfall had everything safe in the field. Then they kindled a fire down by the gate, partook of their supper, and sat down to rest and talk, leaving one of their number on watch.

The night, like most nights of the winter season in the hill country was clear, crisp, and sparkling with stars. There was no wind. The atmosphere seemed never so pure, and the stillness was more than silence; it was a holy hush, a warning that heaven was stooping low to whisper some good thing to the listening earth.

By the gate, hugging his mantle close, the watchman walked. The midnight was slow in coming to him, but at last it came. His watch was over; now for the dreamless sleep with which labor blesses its weary children. He moved toward the fire, but paused. A light was breaking around him, soft and white like the moons. As he waited breathlessly, things before invisible came to view. He could see the whole field and all it sheltered. A chill of fear smote him. He looked up. The stars were gone; the light was dropping as far from a window in the sky. I became a splendor; then in terror, he cried, “Awake, awake!”

Up sprang the dogs and howling, ran away. The men clambered to their feet, weapons in hand.

“What is it?” they asked in one voice.

“See!” cried the watchman, “The sky is on fire!”

Suddenly, the light became intolerably bright, and they covered their eyes and dropped upon their knees. Then, as their souls shrank from fear, they fell upon their faces, blind and fainting, and would have died had not a voice said to them:

“Fear not!”

And they listened.

“For behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people…”

The voice, in sweetness and soothing, was more than human, was low and clear and penetrated all their being, filling them with assurance. They rose upon their knees and, looking worshipfully, beheld in the center of a great glory the appearance of a man in a robe intensely white. Its hands were stretched toward them in blessing; its face was serene and divinely beautiful.

They had often heard and, in their simple way, talked of angels, and they doubted not now, but said in their hearts, “The glory of God is about us, and this he of old came to the prophet by the river Ulai.”

“…for unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a savior, which is Christ the Lord!”

Again there was a rest while the words sank into their minds.

“And this shall be a sign unto you,” the enunciator continued, “… Ye shall find the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”

The herald spoke not again. His good tidings were told, yet he stayed for a while. Suddenly, the light of which he seemed the center, turned roseate and began to tremble, and up as far as men could see there was flashing of white wings, and coming and going of radiant forms, and voices as if from a great chorus:

“Glory to God in the highest; and on earth, peace, good will toward men.”

And the herald was gone.

When the shepherds came fully to their senses, they stared at each other stupidly, until one of them said,” It was Gabriel, the Lord’s messenger unto men.”

None answered.

“Christ the Lord is born, said he not so?”

Then another recovered his voice and replied, “That is what he said.”

“And did he not also say, in the city of David, which is our Bethlehem yonder? And that we would find him a babe in swaddling clothes?”

“And lying in a manger?”

The first speaker gazed into the fire thoughtfully like one possessed of a sudden resolve.

He said, “There is but one place in Bethlehem where there are mangers and that is in the cave near the old khan. Brethren, let us go and see this thing which has come to pass. The priests and scribes have been a long time looking for the Christ. Now he is born, and the Lord has given us a sign by which to know Him. Let us go and worship him.”

“But the flocks…?”

“The Lord will take care of them. Let us make haste.”

Then they all arose and left the sheep shelter.

Around the mountain and through the town they passed and came to the gate of the khan where there was a man on watch.

“What would you have?” he asked.

“We have seen and heard great things tonight,” they replied.

“Well, we too have seen great things, but heard nothing. What did you hear?”

“Let us go down to the cave in the enclosure, that we may be sure, then we will tell you everything. Come with us and see for yourself.”

“It’s a fool’s errand.”

“No! The Christ is born.”

“The Christ! How do you know?”

“Let us go and see first.”

The man laughed scornfully, “The Christ indeed! And how are you to know him?”

“He was born this night and is now lying in a manger, so we were told, and there is but one place in Bethlehem with mangers.”

“The cave?”

“Yes, come with us.”

They went through the courtyard without notice, although there were some up even then talking about the wonderful light. The door of the cavern was open. A lantern was burning within, and they entered quietly.

“I give you peace.” the watchman said to Joseph. “Here are people looking for a child born this night, whom they are to know by finding him in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”

For a moment, the face of the stolid Nazarene was moved. Turning away, he said, “The child is here.”

They were led to one of the mangers, and there the child was. The lantern was brought, and the shepherds stood by mute. The little one made no sign; it was as others, new born.

“Where is the mother?” asked the watchman.

One of the women took the baby and went to Mary lying near, and put it in her arms. Then the bystanders collected about the two.

“It is the Christ!” said the shepherd at last.

“The Christ!” they all repeated, falling on their knees in worship.

One of them repeated several times over:

“It is the Lord, and His glory is above the earth and heaven!”

And the simple men never doubting, kissed the hem of the mothers robe and with joyful faces departed.

In the khan, to all the people aroused and pressing about them, they told their story. And through the town, and all the way back to the marah, they chanted the refrain of the angels:

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will to men!”

The story went abroad, confirmed by the light so generally seen, and the next day and for days thereafter, the cave was visited by curious crowds, of whom some believed, though the greater part laughed and mocked.