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Friends United Meeting |
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December 2000
Gold and Frankincense and Myrrh
By Louise Richardson Rorke
Somewhere in France snow fell with the grey twilight, soft, white, silent. It sifted slowly through the few remaining spears of golden stubble at the edge of the great hole made when, earlier in the day, the guns of the enemy had found their range and the sixth battery had limbered up and whirled away to other and safer quarters. It even drifted softly over the ragged edge of the hole and brushed the boy's face gently. He put out his hand caressingly to the little soft drift of it beside him. Just like this the first small curly drifts formed in front of the big spruce trees by the house at home. Just like this the white flakes must be falling now back there in Northbury; just like this the grey twilight settling over the leaden grey of the big Georgian Bay,--for a moment it was clearer to his eyes than the snow-swept French plain. The distant sound of artillery had died away. In its place were bells--church bells; and he remembered that back there in Northbury tonight was Christmas Eve.
Tonight around the piano in the dear old living room the rest of them were singing, "O Little Town of Bethlehem," and "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," and "In Excelsis Gloria,"--this last of course, and always over again, because it was his mother's favorite. Or perhaps--it must be almost the children's bedtime--Jack and Margaret and little Bob were cuddled, nightclad, about the great hall fire where his mother sat telling them, just as she once told him and Marion and Tom, the story of that first Christmas night so long ago.
"There were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields"--the dear sweet voice seemed very near to him, a tired little boy falling asleep--but not before the story was told,--oh not before the story was told! Had he missed part of it? The voice was gone. Only silence. No the bells again.ÉThose were the church bells from Marshville.1 You could hear them just like that on clear still Christmas Eves. And yes, the story went on: "Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host." His mind slipped away into the din and turmoil of the cannonade, tried to think out why now the guns had ceased; gave it up at last as a tired child gives up a baffling puzzle; and came back to hear the story: "On earth, peace; good will toward men." On earth, Peace! Suddenly the boy was broad awake. On earth, Peace! Over there in the smoky distance his gun, and his battery, pounded away at the German trenches, and in return were shelled and demolished. Perhaps other holes such as this sheltered other wounded of the comrades grown so dear to him. Perhaps they lay shelterless and dying at the mercy of a merciless foe. Perhaps they had already passed beyond the reach or the withholding of pity.
On earth, Peace! Back at St. Julien the grass must already be showing green about the little cross which bore Tom's name and number. With what a fury of hate he had fought for these last months--Tom's fight as well as his own! Ah, well, it was all over,--Christmas Eve, and the church bells ringing, and the dear voice telling the Christmas story of good will toward men.
He moved a little that he might hear it better and his eyes fell on the blood-drenched snow. Somehow the crimson stain reminded him of last year's Christmas roses, of his Christmas gift to Thora. How much he had meant them to mean. And she--he moved his arm slowly and stiffly, shoving his fingers down into the breast pocket of the khaki tunic where they might touch the letter he had had no time to read.ÉHow sweet the roses smelled--her Christmas gift!
Was there not something in the story about gifts?ÉHe had forgotten to listen to the story,--had surely fallen asleep with his head against his mother's knee and her hand in his hair.ÉOh, yes, now she was telling it.
"And when they had opened their treasures they offered unto Him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh."
"Gold and frankincense and myrrh." The snow had ceased with the nightfall and now between the parting of the grey clouds one star shone down, near and tender over the ragged plain.É"The star which they saw in the east."ÉThe boy was vaguely disturbed. Here was the Star standing so still above him. He tried again to remember the story, and this time the dear voice did not help him.É "It came and stood over where the young child was."ÉThe Young Child!ÉThe Prince of Peace!É
Here where the Star stood still must be the Prince of Peace. But the gifts,--it must be almost time for the gifts.É "When they had opened their treasuresÉ gold and frankincense and myrrh." In some dim way he was vaguely anxious about the opening of his treasure lest it should prove altogether worthless and empty.
Gold!ÉAh, well, the college course he had not finished, all the splendid achievement of life which remained unfulfilled, the gladness of youth's morning, its buoyant certainty, the strong brave body which had been his, the fine clear mind;--these things, which were dearer to him than the gold of Ophir,--these he was bringing now as his gifts to the Peace of the world.
Gold and frankincense and myrrh! His mind brooded happily over the frankincense. As a lad he had loved the strange sweet word and now tried to fit it to the treasury he was shaping for the Christmas Child.
Frankincense! All that was dearest and happiest; the home he had left, the dear love of his people there, all the caresses and swift unspoken messages of love, the comradeship, the understanding and the peace of it; all the friendships which life had brought him, all its enthusiasms, all its discipleships;--and all of these that life might still have held in store, the friends he had not yet made; the growing brotherhood of little Bob; Jack's admiration of his soldiership; his mother's kisses, and Marion's, that welcomed him home; the chance to be comfort and help in his father's age; that other home which as yet existed only in his dreams, and which now might have no more tangible reality; the little children there; the grown-up sons and daughters,--the joys of fatherhood, and the dear comradeship of husband and wife,--not only all that had been but all that yet might be. Surely these sufficed abundantly for the frankincense.
Gold and frankincense and myrrh. Myrrh! His mother's tears dropping one by one down on his hands held close in both her own. Thora's crooked little smile which bade him goodbye; all the sober faces lining the Northbury streets to see their men go out; Marion's clinging arms about his neck and little Bob sobbing alone in his nursery; all the heart-weary home-sickness of these long months of separation; all the terror and anxiety of those at home, all their grief and pain now; all their heartache; all the emptiness of their lives, stretching on and on,--these, more precious than heart's blood, for the averting of which he would have gladly died a thousand times--these were also part of the "opened treasures." Gold and frankincense and myrrh.
The starlight seemed to brighten until it glowed luminous and tender over the torn bleak plain. The soldier, who had ceased now to be a soldier and gone back to become a little curly-headed boy in pyjamas, and listen to the Christmas story, and see it change from story to reality,--the soldier who was now the little boy--watched the light grow and deepen until the Stable and the Manger and the Baby--the young Child and Mary, His mother,--seemed nearer even than his own dear mother whose hands he still held. And now the worshippers came with their opened treasures--the great wise kings riding on strangely trapped camels, kneeling low before the Christmas Child. And behind them, stretching away into the dim distance came a long procession who were also worshippers--who had held dear even to costly sacrifice their vision of the Peace of the World, and who now also "presented unto Him gifts." The boy knew he must wait for these to pass. He watched them, eager-eyed at first; then, growing weary again he leaned his head against his mother's knee and slept.ÉHe wakened with her lips against his hair. It was almost time for him to go.
What a crowd there was,--battalions of men in khaki, some of them comrades and friends, bringing their gifts. He saw Tom pass with the rest, and yes, there was his place! His battery was going up. As he moved toward the worshippers and the little Prince--the Prince of Peace--he sent back to his mother a boyish and exultant smile. "My treasures are all right, I guess, dear," he whispered, "gold and frankincense and myrrh."
Somewhere in France the Christmas morning dawned.
1In the late 1850s Marshville was considered as a name for a new community just south of Thombury. However, the name Clarksburg was chosen. (T. Arthur Davidson, A New History of the County of Grey, Owen Sound: The Grey County Historical Society, 1972, page 180.)
Gold and Frankincense and Myrrh: Stories by Louise Richardson Rorke, Edited and Introduced by Kyle Jolliffe, Friends United Press, 220 pages, paper, $12.00 U.S., $24.95 Canadian. Kyle Jolliffe is a member of the Canadian Friends Historical Association.
Copyright (c) 2000 Friends United Meeting
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