Christmas And The Shepherd Boy
By DEREK BECHER
Madelyn slipped on her black dress shoes, tying the black buckles behind her ankles. With her white stockings and her red dress, and the pretty little white and green bow in her dark hair, she looked Christmassy and classy as she sat patiently waiting to go to the Christmas Eve service. Along with her parents, for the first time since she was a baby, she was visiting her grandparents for the holidays, and she was excited about going to Mass on her grandparents’ sleigh to the old country church, and listening to her grandfather sing in the Christmas Eve choir.
It was a short trip to the church, under than 20 minutes, and it was just below zero — the warm coats, mitts, and earmuffs made the ride comfortable for all of the riders, and the heavy wool blankets that were shared by the members of each row of the sleigh made it very cozy indeed. The horses knew the way, so Madelyn’s grandfather asked her parents to take the reins in the front row, letting the horses follow the tracks through the rolling countryside to the church, so that Madelyn could enjoy the ride in the second row with her grandparents.
They were going early, so that Madelyn’s grandfather could join the choir members in some last-minute rehearsals before taking their places and beginning the opening carols before the start of the Mass. As the horses turned away from the lane and into the country, Madelyn thought of the carols that the choir would be singing, and she said to her grandparents, “I’m so happy to be joining you for Christmas. It is my favorite time of year, for so many reasons; but I think most of all, I love Christmas because of the music and the carols. They are all so wonderful, especially the ones that talk of peace, joy, love, and remembering that holy night in Bethlehem when Jesus was born!”
“Oh, Madelyn,” her grandmother answered, “Your love for Christmas is very admirable. You are wise beyond your eight years for seeing and understanding the true reason for celebrating Christmas!”
Her grandfather then added, “Yes, Madelyn, your grandmother and I are very happy that you are spending Christmas with us, and that you and your parents can join us at the Christmas Eve service. It is my favorite Mass, and I just love being able to share my voice and to help to lead the singing of the wonderful carols of Christmas!”
Madelyn replied, “I’m so excited, Grandpa, to hear you sing, and to sing along too with you, Grandma, Mom and Dad, and the choir.” And then, Madelyn thought of something. Looking up to her grandfather, she said, “Say, Grandpa, there are so many beautiful carols that are sung at a Christmas Eve service, from Silent Night and O Holy Night to O Come All ye Faithful and Joy to the World, and even others, that are really lovely. But, I was wondering, is there a song that might mean just a little bit more to you? Perhaps one that is just a little bit more of a favorite for you?”
Madelyn’s grandmother smiled, for she knew the answer, and she winked at Madelyn, as her husband began, “Yes, Madelyn. It’s true — I love to sing all of the carols at Christmas. But there is one that means just a little bit more to me. It’s called Transeamus Usque Bethlehem. It’s a Latin song whose title means ‘Let us go to Bethlehem.’ Not many churches sing it, but I’ve known that carol for more than 60 years — most of my life; it tells of the Christmas Eve shepherds and how they responded to the Word of the angel and hurried to Bethlehem to see the Holy Family. It was my grandfather’s favorite Christmas song. He used to sing it in his church’s Christmas Eve choir, and it is one that our choir will sing tonight. We have been singing it on Christmas Eve for as long as I’ve been in the choir, over 40 years!”
“Wow! That is quite a tradition that started with your own grandfather and that you’ve been carrying on all these years! I can see why this song means so much to you, Grandpa! Maybe I will get to sing it in a choir when I get older.”
“That would be wonderful,” Madelyn’s grandmother replied, adding, “You have a beautiful voice, and you will be a welcome addition to any choir! Your grandfather really does love that song, and he has for a long, long time.” Then, looking at her husband, and winking now to him, she said, “And I think he might share with you another reason why it means so much to him.”
“What is it, Grandpa?” Madelyn inquired, adding, “Why else is this song so special to you?”
“Madelyn,” her grandfather replied, “As I told you, my grandfather used to sing that song in his church’s choir, and he is the one who introduced it to me. But my grandfather once told me a story about the song, a very special story. And yes, it is time now that you hear it.”
Madelyn’s grandparents smiled at each other and at their granddaughter, and hearing their conversation, Madelyn’s parents looked back towards her and also smiled at their daughter, and then they all sat attentively to listen to Madelyn’s grandfather’s story.
“My grandfather sat me down one Christmas Eve morning,” he began, “when I was eight or nine, just as old as you, Madelyn. He said he had a story to tell me about the priest at his church, Father Eli. He was an elderly man, but he still played the guitar and the organ, and he helped to direct their choir.
“Well, Father Eli spent one Christmas in the Holy Land, in the city of Jerusalem. In the afternoon of Christmas Eve, he was walking on a path a few kilometers south of the city, among olive groves, shrubs, and low rolling hills of sparse vegetation; he was on his way to Bethlehem for the Christmas Eve service. He saw a young shepherd boy approach with his walking pole. When they met, the young boy noticed the man’s collar and said to him, ‘Hello Father, and Merry Christmas. If you have a few moments, there is a story I would like to tell you. Today is the anniversary of something very special that happened near here last year, on Christmas Eve.’
“Father Eli was intrigued, and he said to the boy, ‘What is it? What has happened that you speak of?’
“The boy answered Father Eli, telling him his story.
“ ‘I was in these hills last Christmas Eve, with my father, his two brothers, and three of their cousins, all of them shepherds. The sheep were in the fields, and I was helping to watch over them. Behind that olive tree on the hillside before us, a peaceful figure came out, glowing in the evening twilight, and it smiled at us. He moved toward us slowly and steadily, but none of us were afraid. Instead, the figure spoke to us with a gentle voice; he told us that his friends were coming, and that they wanted to celebrate the anniversary of Christ’s birth. He said that shepherds in these very hills were approached by an angel on the first Christmas Eve, and upon hearing its words, they hurried to Bethlehem to see the Holy Family that would be resting there.
“‘He then said that he and his friends wanted to sing a song to celebrate that first Christmas Eve, and he began to speak the lyrics to my father, my uncles, and their cousins; the words were in Latin, but the men quickly learned them, and the figure told us the meaning of the words. All of them happily agreed that they would help the glowing figure; with its direction, they rehearsed the song several times, and then the figure started leading us down the hills toward Bethlehem. Just as we began walking behind it, dozens of other glowing figures — Heaven’s angels — appeared and hovered overhead, following us. Some of them had harps, some had flutes, and some even had guitars. At one point, the figure leading us stopped, turned to face everyone, spread his arms wide overhead, and simply nodded. At once, the music began, and not long after, lovely voices filled these hills.
“ ‘The shepherds started out; their voices were clear and strong, floating toward the little town and spreading throughout the valley, as they first sang these words that the glowing figure taught them: Transeamus usque Bethlehem, Et videamus hoc verbum quod factum est — Mariam et Joseph et Infantum positum in praesepio, meaning, Let us go to Bethlehem, and behold the Word that has been presented to us — Mary and Joseph, and the Child, placed in a manger!
“ ‘And then, the most beautiful, clear, and lovely voices followed those of the shepherds, as the group of angels sang: Gloria, Gloria in Excelsis Deo; Gloria, Gloria et in terra pax hominibus Bonae voluntatis, et in terra pax, which means, Glory, Glory be to God on High; Glory, Glory and peace to all people of good will, and peace on Earth!
“ ‘But Father, as overwhelming and moving as each group’s verse was — both the shepherds and the angels — what followed was even more stirring, melodic, and harmonious. The shepherds and the angels sang the next verses together, with their voices intermingling to produce the most clear and lovely sound that I’ve ever heard.
“ ‘The angels sang their full Gloria, as before, while the shepherds sang: Transeamus; audiamus multitudinem militiae coelestis laudantium Deum, which means, Let us go; hear the crowd of Heavenly hosts who praise God! To that, they added their line, Mariam et Joseph et Infantum positum in praesepio.
“ ‘Back and forth, and often together, Transeamus and Gloria were sung simultaneously with playfully falling and rising notes — especially of the angels’ Gloria — that reached to the Heavens, while the other words of the lines were repeated and blended together. With the angels’ final Gloria, the shepherds sang, Transeamus et videamus quod factum est, which means, Let us go and see what has happened.
“ ‘All the way into Bethlehem, the shepherds and the angels repeated this song, overlapping the Transeamus lines with the Gloria lines. It was such a lovely blending of harmonies, and perhaps the most melodious choir that has ever sung!
“ ‘Upon reaching Bethlehem, the angels dispersed and faded into the darkness. The shepherds and I continued toward an outdoors crèche on a corner near the Church of the Nativity, and we knelt down to pray to the Holy Family, just as the shepherds did that first Christmas Eve. And the glowing figure that led us all to Bethlehem from the Judean hills smiled toward us and then turned around and began walking back towards the countryside, before disappearing out of view.
“ ‘These hills are very special, Father. I don’t know if the angels will ever return, but I hope one day, when I’m older and walking these trails, that they might appear and ask me to join them in singing of the shepherds on that first Christmas Eve!’”
Madelyn’s grandfather then turned to her and said, “So you see, Madelyn, because of Father Eli’s encounter with the shepherd boy, as told to your great-great-grandfather, Transeamus Usque Bethlehem has a very special meaning to me. Just as the shepherds on the first Christmas Eve heard the Word from an angel and hurried to Bethlehem to greet the Holy Family, the shepherds in Father Eli’s story also went to Bethlehem on Christmas Eve, and together with a host of Heaven’s angels, a melodious choir sang Transeamus Usque Bethlehem over and over through the Judean hills and all the way into Bethlehem! And so, every Christmas Eve when I sing this song with the choir, I imagine that I have the courage of the shepherds to take the Word from angels, go to Bethlehem, and rejoice at the birth of Jesus.”
Madelyn smiled at her grandfather with tears on her cheek, as they arrived at the little country church and went inside. Her grandfather walked the stairs in the entrance up to the choir loft, while Madelyn, her grandmother, and her parents walked down the center aisle, genuflecting beside a pew and then walking in to nearly fill the row. Madelyn looked around and admired the decorations. Two red candles sat in golden holders on the shelf inside each of the two windows on either side; bright red holly and green garland were hung on each of the pillars along the side walls; an intricate paper angel was clipped to each pew along the center aisle; three evergreen trees stood in a triangle on one side of the altar; and beneath the trees, the Holy Family — along with shepherds, sheep, an oxen, a goat, and a mule — rested. Madelyn turned to her grandmother and whispered, “The church looks so beautiful, Grandma. I think Christmas has arrived!”
Madelyn’s grandmother nodded and whispered back to her, “Yes, Madelyn, it sure does look lovely.”
And then, an organ and a guitar started to play. Madelyn looked up and saw her grandfather behind her at the front of the loft, with seven other men standing side by side in front of a black railing above the back third of the congregation; all of them wore dashing black suits with dark red ties. Along both side walls, the loft extended halfway into the main body of the church. Five ladies stood shoulder to shoulder in both of the loft extensions — with each group facing the other across the church — and all of them wore white flowing cassocks.
With parishioners steadily arriving, the choir began their introductory Christmas carols, inviting everyone to join in. They started with The First Noel, and then Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Then they sang Mary’s Boy Child, Angels We Have Heard on High, Away in a Manger, O Little Town of Bethlehem, and Somewhere in the Night. Madelyn sang with all of her heart and soul, as the choir’s strong and clear voices reverberated throughout the church and led everyone in song.
During the last two songs, the priest, the altar servers, and a deacon began to gather at the back of the church. There were still a few minutes before the procession would begin, but there was a short, noticeable pause after the last song that the choir sang. Something then happened that moved Madelyn, and, for the second time that evening, brought a few tiny tears of joy trickling down her cheeks.
The organ, joined now by a violin, started to play a very rhythmic and lovely melody, and the congregation became completely silent. The men in the choir, after the prelude, started singing the shepherds’ verse of Transeamus Usque Bethlehem. Madelyn’s eyes widened when she heard the men — and her grandfather — begin their verse; her mother, on one side, reached to hold her left hand, while her grandmother, on the other side, held her right hand. Madelyn then closed her eyes and listened to — and embraced — the singing. The women in the choir soon began the angels’ verse with the Gloria, and shortly afterward, the “shepherds” and the “angels” were blending their lines together with a rhythmical and moving four-part harmony that resounded throughout the church.
During the song, the congregation remained silent, and it was only the tenor and bass of the male choir voices from behind and the alto and soprano of the female choir voices from the sides that merged to fill the church with a clear, powerful, and sometimes playfully melodious anthem. Throughout all of it, Madelyn clearly imagined the story of the shepherd boy and Father Eli, and she pictured herself sitting in the hills of Judea, listening to the heavenly choir above her.
As the song wound down, and the tears reached the bottom of Madelyn’s cheeks, she squeezed both of the hands that were holding hers. She looked to her father, who smiled at her with a wink. She looked to her mother, who smiled and wiped the tears from both sides of Madelyn’s face. She turned to the other side, smiled at her grandmother, and whispered, “I think this will be the best Christmas ever!” She then looked over her shoulder at her grandfather, and, catching his eye, mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
Madelyn went on to enjoy a peaceful and joyous Christmas gathering at her grandparents’ country home, and one that she would never forget. Other Christmases came and went, and each had its own special moments and memories. But her eighth Christmas, the one spent at her grandparents’ farm when she heard her grandfather’s story of Father Eli and the shepherd boy — and the wonderful beauty of the song, Transeamus Usque Bethlehem — would be her favorite. She cherished it, and when the time came, she shared the story with her own children and grandchildren, ensuring that her grandfather’s story, and the story of the shepherd boy, would live on.
