Every Christmas Eve, at our 5:00 p.m. service, I tell a story about a character who I’m sure what at the manger that night so long ago. Here’s my 2011 character – Elsie, the Cow.
Elsie, The Christmas Cow - Tracey Lind - 2011
Of course, I was there. Everybody knew I was there. That’s why I’m in a lot of Christmas carols, and I always make an appearance the Christmas pageant. I’ll bet you’ve never seen one without my smiling face.
My name is Elsie. I was there when Jesus was born. I was minding my own business, enjoying my dinner when all this commotion began.
My owner, the innkeeper, opened the door to my stable. It was dark outside, and he had a lantern. With him were a man and a very pregnant woman. They had a donkey laden with blankets. He had a water gourd hanging off his saddle, and a couple of side bags filled with bread, cheese and olives.
The man was explaining to my owner that they had come into town to get registered for taxes. He wasn’t very happy about it, but there was nothing he could do but comply with Roman law. He said that the road from Nazareth to Bethlehem had been crowded with travelers, just like him and his fiancé.
The man and my owner were talking about those awful Roman officials, watching over the parade with spears and swords – behaving as if revolution was about to erupt.
The man (I think his name was Joseph) thanked my owner for the hospitality, and they parted company. Some hospitality – My owner didn’t give him a room in the inn. He insisted that this pregnant woman (I think I overheard her called Mary) sleep in the barn – my inn, so to speak.
Joseph and Mary, along with their donkey came into the stable and hung the lantern on a peg in the wall. Joseph helped Mary settle in on the floor, taking some of my hay to make her a mattress.
I introduced myself to the donkey and learned that his name was Michel. I offered him some of the hay in my manger and some water from my trough. We were getting acquainted. Michel was telling me how exhausted he was. After all, he had walked for several days on some terrible roads, carrying a pregnant woman on his back. What a beast of burden he had become.
Eventually, everybody settled down. I went back to eating dinner and was interrupted again. Mary started screaming, “The baby’s coming, the baby’s coming.” Joseph went looking for help. Fortunately, it didn’t take him long to find the local midwife, who by way helped me deliver my last baby calf.
Siphrah is a good woman, and a real beauty (just like her name implies). She patted me on the head and asked after my calf, now a grown cow herself, providing milk for a family down the road.
You know what happened next.
Siphrah sent Joseph to get hot water and rags for the birth. She got Mary to squat and begin to push and push and push….
The stable got really hot with all the activity. But who am I to complain. I always have a temperature of about 102 degrees - yes, I’m a warm-blooded lady to be sure. Mary was huffing and puffing, and Joseph (who had never witnessed a birth) was sweating up a storm.
It also got awfully noisy in the barn. Mary was screaming. Siphrah was shouting, “Push!” Joseph was whimpering under his breath. Michel started to bray. A couple of lambs that were sitting in another stall started to bleat. Squealer, the pig started to grunt. And I began to moo.
Then, it happened. A baby was born. Siphrah pulled him out, wiped him off, patted him on the back. He then SCREAMED, startling and silencing the rest of us. His was a greeting that would echo down through the ages: “Hello world, it’s me!”
Siphrah swaddled him in rags and placed him in his mother’s arms. She turned to Joseph and asked, “What will you name this child?” And without hesitation, Joseph responded, “Jesu” (or Jesus as he’s become known to you). Remembering the words of the angel, he said, “Yes, we will call him Jesu,” which means “God delivers.”
After Mary held him for a few minutes, she fell asleep with exhaustion. Siphrah picked up the little baby and held him in her arms, wondering who he really might be and who he might become.
Meanwhile Joseph came over to me and asked for a favor. He wanted to use my manger – my food trough – now half-empty from sharing my dinner with Michel. He wanted it as a cradle or a crib for his newborn son. What could I say, but “Sure.” At least I could offer some hospitality to this little baby. Joseph freshened the manger with new hay and gently laid the infant in it.
As curious as a cow is, I kept looking at his face. In fact, I got so close that my wet nose nuzzled his warm, little cheek. When I looked into his eyes, I just knew he was special. Cows have a special sense of intuition.
And then, this little song came into my head:
Away in a manger, no crib for His bed,
The little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head.
The stars in the sky looked down where He lay
The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.
The cattle are lowing, the poor Baby wakes,
But little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes;
I love Thee, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky
And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.
Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay,
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray!
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care
And take us to heaven, to live with Thee there.
And that’s the story of Christmas from the perspective of Elsie, the cow.
