Every year around this time, we prepare to celebrate Christmas. This year we heard the story of the shepherd boy Daniel. He was visiting the stable in Bethlehem that night, more than two thousand years ago.

Daniel tells us: My father, my friend Lucas, three older shepherds, and I were camped in the hills near Bethlehem with our flock. We were on night watch. The night was calm and cool. The moon shone brightly. The sky was clear and full of stars.

Our conversations had already ceased when, suddenly, everything lit up. From that light emerged a figure. We were frightened; we had never seen anything like it. And this unknown being spoked to us. At first, in our shock, we understood nothing. Little by little, I understood: this being brought a message for us. It spoke of a child who would be our Savior. Everything was strange. It seemed that even the celestial creature itself was fascinated by the news it was announcing; it radiated immense joy. It told us that we would find the child very near there. And then other beings appeared, a multitude. As suddenly as they had come, they disappeared.

When that vision ended, I looked at my friend Lucas. He was also overwhelmed. And the older shepherds were the same. Only my father showed no emotion. Once the beings had left, we talked about what had happened and what we should do. My father wanted to stay with the flock; Lucas and I should go with the older shepherds to look for the boy. And so we did.

After about an hour, we saw a light coming from a stable in the valley. Could the boy be there? We ran toward it. Before knocking, we peered inside. We saw people and animals. We couldn’t make out much else; only a small candle was burning. One of the older shepherds knocked on the door. Lucas and I held our breath: What will happen now? A man’s voice answered, “Come in!” And we went inside.

In the stable, there was a man of about twenty-five and a young woman who couldn’t have been more than twenty. And in the manger, a newborn baby. There were also animals there: a donkey and an ox.

The man—probably the father—welcomed us. His accent wasn’t Judean. The woman—probably the mother—looked at us kindly. Her face expressed both weariness and joy. Lucas and I watched these strangers intently. Everything was just as the being on the hill had announced: a young family with a newborn baby. Nothing more. And yet, our hearts were filled with a profound joy. Why? I don’t know.

One of the older shepherds explained the reason for our visit and how we had learned of the birth of the child, the Savior. Upon hearing this, broad smiles spread across the faces of the father and mother. Their initial surprise at our arrival vanished, replaced by intense emotions and great joy. They were visibly moved, especially her.

I was seven years old then. So was Lucas. I had brought my favorite little sheep, Emmy, with me. I left her with Lucas and went over to the manger where the baby Jesus lay. He was asleep. Reckless as I am, I asked the mother if I could kiss him. She nodded. I knelt down and placed a kiss on his forehead. At that, the baby woke up and smiled at me.

Then I looked at the mother and introduced myself: “I’m Daniel; I’m seven years old.” The mother replied: “My name is Mary.” And the father added: “I’m Joseph,” pointing to the little boy: “And this is Jesus.”

Then Mary asked me, “Do you want to hold the baby ?” I blushed and answered, “Yes, gladly, if I can.” “You may,” she replied. Even today I hear her voice in my heart: melodious, affectionate, with a northern accent. She took the baby from the manger and placed him in my arms. I was still kneeling. And then I held the baby in my arms. I don’t know for how long. With that, a long-held dream was fulfilled: I had long desired a little sister or brother; I dreamed of one day holding a baby in my arms. And there it was. No one knew of that dream. Only God. And now I held in my arms the promised Savior of the world. Inside, I began to cry. Outwardly, I tried to hide it. Only the mother perceived my feelings. I had the impression that she could read my heart. She understood me. I don’t know how long I held him. It was surely a brief moment, but it left a deep mark on my soul.

One of the older shepherds said brusquely, “We have to go. We don’t want to bother you any longer. Daniel, your father is waiting for us.” The mother took the child from my arms. I had kissed him several times during that time. He was so adorable. My sense of time completely vanished.

I got up. I went to Lucas, took the little sheep Emmy, and gave it to Joseph. “It’s my gift to you,” I said. He didn’t want to accept it at first. But I insisted. Finally, he gave in. Mary was watching the scene from the other side of the manger, where the baby was resting. She gave me a tender look and said, “Daniel, come here.” I went to her. She added, “Daniel, thank you so much,” and gave me a kiss. I blushed again, even more than before.

The head shepherd repeated his call for us to leave. And so we did. We said our goodbyes, left the stable, and began the journey back to our flock.

I didn’t want to show it, but Lucas sensed what was happening to me. I was so moved that I could barely hold back tears of joy. After about ten minutes, I began to cry. I could no longer control my emotions. I was deeply touched. I had never experienced anything like it. Not even today, after all these years. It was an unforgettable night, that one in the hills of Bethlehem, more than two thousand years ago.

The night was calm and cool. The moon shone splendidly. The sky was radiant, full of stars.

Author

Dr. Karl-Maria de Molina studied engineering, philosophy, and theology, and earned his doctorate in automotive technology. He has written books on automotive technology and work methodology, and has edited works on workplace culture and skills development. He has held several teaching positions at German universities; he leads seminars on leadership development; he has founded several companies; and he has developed and marketed innovative products.

The author acquired the knowledge necessary for this series of articles of faith through the study of philosophy and theology, daily reading of the Gospel and spiritual books, as well as daily attendance at the Eucharist.