The following is written in the timeless spirit of holiday fictional stories.
My name is Kelev. Not a common name for a dog. Around my community it is commonly used as an insult. The young sheep herder Levi named me, or rather called out, “Hey Kelev,” the first time we met.
The second time we saw each other was on the street in town. He yelled out to me again. His older brother, some feet away, spun around towards him thinking Levi had just called him a dog in public. Levi innocently pointed in my direction, but his brother’s irritation didn’t diminish.
Levi chuckled as he knelt down and gave me a bit of cheese and bread, whispering, “You are HaKelev HaYehudi, and I am Levi. I give you permission to aggravate my brother Ze’ev, anytime you see fit.”
Levi was the first to speak to me as a friend and give me a gift.
At that time, I lived in a hollow under a stone wall where livestock were kept. It was a secreted place where I was left alone by people, the property master and his family not knowing I was there. When the oxen began stirring in pre-dawn light, I would leave and begin my rounds through the town looking for food and avoiding the shouts and occasional objects being thrown in my direction. My cousins’ unruly behavior often accounts for the animosity I encountered.
Lately, the town has been more difficult to navigate. A steady stream of travelers and extended family members have been arriving at all hours. Beasts of burden, children, and armloads of assorted sundries fill the streets, making my rounds difficult. My scouting circles (ever wider) often take me to the hills where the sheep are kept this time of year. That’s where I met Levi and old Lev.
That day they were eating their lunch. Lev, between and during mouthfuls of bread, was dramatically telling stories of young King David. I was intrigued by their conversation and the smell of food.
I quietly climbed a stone pile behind them where a soft wind carried the scent of cheese. The sun on my withers and the cool breeze lightly kissed my muzzle.
I began to drift off when suddenly Levi shouted, “Hey Kelev!” I looked up to see a ball of cheese and bread flying towards me. It bounced off my ribs and rolled on to the grass. Lev, not understanding why Levi wadded up his lunch and tossed it over his shoulder, stopped talking.
While I was making quick work of my fortuitous gift, Levi stood up and stretched. He turned in my direction and said, “You’re welcome to visit, but if you chase the sheep, Lev will catch you and feed you to a bear.”
Lev, still sitting, turned toward me, grimaced, and bared what was left of his teeth. They both laughed.
This afternoon however, (thanks to young children who drop food), I headed back to my hiding place with a full belly before dark.
At the lean-to next to the cave where the livestock were kept, a stranger was helping a young woman down from a donkey. Lightly covered in road-dust, she looked as if their journey had taken a toll. She moaned a few times from the movement and effort.
The property master and his wife came out to help the couple carry their things into the cave. When the master noticed me watching, he ran me off.
There was only one place I could think of to go.
Up on the hills, Levi and Lev were lying in the grass, staring at a twilight sky.
“That star looks like it’s right over the town.” Lev turned to Levi. “It’s been in the night sky for two seasons or more.”
Levi turned to the sound of my approach. “Kelev, what are you doing out so late?”
He reached in his bag and tossed a bit of cheese to me. I listened to them debate the meaning of the star for a while until their voices faded and sleep overcame me.
A bright flash woke me, woke Levi and Lev. It woke everyone on those hills. The second and third flash were even brighter and coming from above us. I was waiting for the rumble of thunder and thought about finding shelter. Levi and Lev were both standing and scanning the sky.
Lev’s voice trailed off, “There are no clouds…”
The next and brightest flash interrupted Lev. Immediately above the hills appeared the largest most powerful being I have ever seen. Lightning-like shafts emanated from all around him, and I felt weakened by his presence.
We all fell to the ground with our eyes staring up at him. He spoke words that resonated through my body. The echoes of the trumpet-sounding words couldn’t be made out with dog’s ears and had barely faded when suddenly the trees, the rocks, and the air above us were filled with a multitude of glowing beings that resembled men, but larger. They burst into singing with voices raised. Many were dancing.
Lev jumped up with his arms raised and began whirling in circles and proclaiming words about a King of the Universe.
Levi scrambled to grab their robes and shouted above the roar of the aerial celebration, “C’mon, let’s go, Lev! C’mon, Kelev!”
We began running into town. Old Lev was having no trouble keeping up.
Levi, as if reading my confusion yelled, “We’re looking for a newborn baby in a manger.”
I slid to a stop and grabbed a mouthful of Levi’s robe, pulling him to a stop also. They were going the wrong way. I gave them both a sharp and scolding bark, then turned to the right and ran with all my might towards my home.
Behind me, Lev, between heaving breaths, shouted, “Keep up with Kelev, Levi. Don’t lose sight of him.”
With the sound of singing in the distance and the slap of shepherds’ sandals on dirt behind me, I wondered. What would we find? More importantly, what does it mean?
For more on the hillside events and what followed, see Luke’s letter to his friend Theophilus.
