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Classic Literature
The
Holy Night
By Selma Lagerlof
There was a man who went out in the dark night to borrow live coals to
kindle a fire. He went from hut to hut and knocked. "Dear friends, help
me!" said he. "My wife has just given birth to a child, and I must make
a fire to warm her and the little one."
But it was way in the night, and all the people were asleep.
No one replied.
The man walked and walked. At last he saw the gleam of a fire a long
way off. Then he went in that direction and saw that the fire was
burning in the open. A lot of sheep were were sleeping around the fire,
and an old shepherd sat and watched over the flock.
When the man who wanted to borrow fire came up to the sheep, he saw
that three big dogs lay asleep at the shepherd's feet. All three awoke
when the man approached and opened their great jaws, as though they
wanted to bark; but not a sound was heard. The man noticed that the
hair on their backs stood up and that their sharp, white teeth
glistened in the firelight.
They dashed toward him.
He felt that one of them bit at his leg and one at this hand and that
one clung to this throat. But their jaws and teeth wouldn't obey them,
and the man didn't suffer the least harm.
Now the man wished to go farther, to get what he needed. But the sheep
lay back to back and so close to one another that he couldn't pass
them. Then the man stepped upon their backs and walked over them and up
to the fire.
And not one of the animals awoke or moved.
When the man had almost reached the fire, the shepherd looked up. He
was a surly old man, who was unfriendly and harsh toward human beings.
And when he saw the strange man coming, he seized the long, spiked
staff, which he always held in his hand when he tended his flock, and
threw it at him. The staff came right toward the man, but, before it
reached him, it turned off to one side and whizzed past him, far out in
the meadow.
Now the man came up to the shepherd and said to him: "Good man, help
me, and lend me a little fire! My wife has just given birth to a child,
and I must make a fire to warm her and the little one."
The shepherd would rather have said no, but when he pondered that the
dogs couldn't hurt the man, and the sheep had not run from him, and
that the staff had not wished to strike him, he was a little afraid,
and dared not deny the man that which he asked.
"Take as much as you need!" he said to the man.
But then the fire was nearly burnt out. There were no logs or branches
left, only a big heap of live coals, and the stranger had neither spade
nor shovel wherein he could carry the red-hot coals.
When the shepherd saw this, he said again: "Take as much as you need!"
And he was glad that the man wouldn't be able to take away any coals.
But the man stopped and picked coals from the ashes with his bare
hands, and laid them in his mantle. And he didn't burn his hands when
he touched them, nor did the coals scorch his mantle; but he carried
them away as if they had been nuts or apples.
And when the shepherd, who was such a cruel and hardhearted man, saw
all this, he began to wonder to himself. What kind of a night is this,
when the dogs do not bite, the sheep are not scared, the staff does not
kill, or the fire scorch? He called the stranger back and said to him:
"What kind of a night is this? And how does it happen that all things
show you compassion?"
Then said the man: "I cannot tell you if you yourself do not see it."
And he wished to go his way, that he might soon make a fire and warm
his wife and child.
But the shepherd did not wish to lose sight of the man before he had
found out what all this might portend. He got up and followed the man
till they came to the place where he lived.
Then the shepherd saw the man didn't have so much as a hut to dwell in,
but that his wife and babe were lying in a mountain grotto, where there
was nothing except the cold and naked stone walls.
But the shepherd thought that perhaps the poor innocent child might
freeze to death there in the grotto; and, although he was a hard man,
he was touched, and thought he would like to help it. And he loosened
the knapsack from his shoulder, took from it a soft white sheepskin,
gave it to the strange man, and said that he should let the child sleep
on it.
But just as soon as he showed that he, too, could be merciful, his eyes
were opened, and he saw what he had not been able to see before, and
heard what he could not have heard before.
He saw that all around him stood a ring of little silver-winged angels,
and each held a stringed instrument, and all sang in loud tones that
tonight the Saviour was born who should redeem the world from its sins.
Then he understood how all things were so happy this night that they
didn't want to do anything wrong.
And it was not only around the shepherd that there were angels, but he
saw them everywhere. They sat inside the grotto, they sat outside on
the mountain, and they flew under the heavens. They came marching in
great companies, and, as they passed, they paused and cast a glance at
the child.
There was such jubilation and such gladness and songs and play! And all
this he saw in the dark night whereas before he could not have made out
anything. He was so happy because his eyes had been opened that he fell
upon his knees and thanked God.
What that shepherd saw, we might also see, for the angels fly down from
heaven every Christmas Eve, if we could only see them.
You must remember this, for it is as true, as true as that I see you
and you see me. It is not revealed by the light of lamps or candles,
and it does not depend upon sun and moon; but that which is needful is
that we have such eyes as can see God's glory.
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