Lucifer's True History of Everything
Sep 6, 06 12:10 PM
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The True Life of Jesus, continued
Not until the wee morning hours of that first Christmas morning was Joseph able to lie down and fall asleep. Mary, meanwhile, wrapped Jesus' bottom in swaddling cloth and put him down in a manger (Luke 2:7); which seemed, to me, to endanger the child, but I was mistaken, because as Jesus lay there in the trough, the goats and cows (and even the very fleas!) stopped eating, for fear of biting the holy babe. So the animals must have sensed that he was someone pretty special (Luke 4:7).
As for the old Christmas carol about how "the little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes," I found that not to be true: the little Lord Jesus had a powerful set of lungs; and when he was thirsty, or when his swaddling cloths became uncomfortable, or when the smell of the stable offended him, he howled like a bloodhound until Mary took care of him (which she was happy to do, because Mary was an excellent mother, a perfect mom in every way; but Joseph was no help – he just complained about not getting enough sleep).
About 3 a.m., weary from her weeklong donkey-marathon and from the hustle and bustle of giving birth, Mary in her kerchief finally settled down for a long winter's nap. She collapsed beside a dairy goat, and fell asleep.
Minutes later, a troupe of cheerful shepherds burst into the stable, jabbering so fast, and with such a thick accent, that I had a hard time catching all of it [Luke 2:8-20]). "Is this the Bethlehem Cowhouse?" one of them asked. "Hey, Mazel tov! we just heared the happy news! A trumpet-blowing archangel came through the clouds and scared the tar out of us when we was guarding our flocks by night!"
There was no "little drummer boy" among the shepherds, which is lucky. Grumpy Joseph was in no mood for "pa-rumpa-pa-pum." Joseph would have beaten any such drummer with the boy's own drumsticks, up one side and down the other, and sent him back home to the meadow in a JellO mold.
But then the baby started in, again: these unwashed shepherds were good-hearted men but they smelled like sheep. How little Jesus wailed at the smell!
Mary fed the holy child, to quiet him, but she stood near the door and prayed for something to freshen the air. (Her prayer was soon to be answered, in the most miraculous way.)
I had not seen the Son of God face to face in four thousand years, not since our miscommunication in the Garden of Eden. So I took a deep breath and slipped inside the stable, behind the shepherds – and how it warmed my heart to see the infant God there in Mary's arms, being fed! He was cute as a button! I whispered in his ear, in Hebrew: "Ben! [Son of God!] It's me, bro! Lucifer! Welcome to Earth!"
The infant gurgled and said nothing; but he stopped what he was doing for a moment, and he turned his head toward me and he gave me a look – a look of such icy disdain for having interrupted him, a look of such utter contempt! – that I felt suddenly demoralised. I knew, right then, that the baby Jesus could not be trusted. He had come down here to ruin my life.
– L.
Posted by Lucifer at 12:10 PM
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