Christian fiction; Christian life -- Fiction; Christmas stories
The beggar withdrew his hand. The fat merchant, who had thought to put
forth his own, withheld it. With bowed head they waited until the brief
prayer was done, then set to as hungry men, one and all.
“Tough, but grateful to an empty stomach, is thy goat’s meat,” said the
man of the broad brow. “But tell me, Father Hermit, thou didst return
thanks for dried meat and peas: dost in very truth regard this mean
repast as a Christmas feast?”
“That do I!” returned the hermit vigorously.
“That do I not!” said the other in a sneer half hidden in his beard, “no
more do these my fellow-guests, I warrant you. Tell me, friend knight,
hast any thought of Christmas in thy mind?”
“Nay,” said the knight frankly; “only of a snow-white, crisp Christmas at
home.”
“Sir Beggar? Is this a Christmas joy to thee?”
“Nay,” said the beggar with a whine; “but were I in my own town—ah, there
beggar-folk feast at Christmas-tide at the cost of the open-handed rich!”
“Sir Merchant, what of thee? Is this Christmas to thy mind?”
“Nay,” said the merchant between bites, “never a Christmas without good
roast capon.”
“Sir Melancholy? Hast thou Christmas cheer? Nay, we need not thine
answer. And thou, Sir Shifty Eyes—is this Christmas to thee?”
“Nay,” said the last of all, “I see no Christmas joy in this shrivelled
fare.”
“Hearest thou, O Father Hermit?” cried the questioner in triumph. “And
thou sayest this brings Christmas joy to thee!”
“And truly so it does!” answered the hermit quietly. Then, his eyes
sweeping quickly around the circle, he spoke more strongly: “And more,
Sir Philosopher—for such I take thee to be—I can tell each of you why he
has no Christmas joy from this feast of mine.”
“Come, then,” said the philosopher invitingly.
“Thou first,” said the hermit, not heeding the sneer no longer
concealed—“thou art a philosopher, is it not so?—So I thought.—And thou
hast exchanged faith for reason, and by thy bargain thou hast lost thy
Christ and thy Christmas. Thou wast afraid to believe! God manifest in
the flesh thou couldst not understand, and therefore God manifest in the
flesh thou didst cast away.”
The other would have interrupted, but the hermit raised his hand to
silence him. “Nay, I said not I would argue with thee, but that I would
show thee why thou hast no Christmas joy. And I have shown thee. Thou
hast no faith: that is why. Thou, who dost come over yonder blue sea by
faith; who dost follow a mountain path on faith;—thou, who dost not know
thyself nor thy neighbor nor thy world, but dost take all on faith—thou
dost not believe in the might of the finger of God! Not a day passes
but thou dost believe the unexplainable; yet thou must explain the
Christ-child before thou wilt believe on him! Thou dost not know me; thou
canst not explain one of these dried peas, nor the way it grew, nor the
sunlight that dried it; and yet thou dost eat my dried peas gladly! Have
I hit thee? ‘Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of heaven as a——’”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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