The weather was perfect. It was snowing and the wind, while strong, wasn’t bitter cold. It was a rich, thick, dark night and the only thing breaking the darkness was the light of the lanterns, and the fires to keep the people warm. Suddenly, the darkness is split as a choir of angels began singing the praises of the Lord. The angels beautiful in their choir robes and standing on a hay wagon, with a donkey standing nearby braying his discontent at being away from his stable mates.
Hey! So goes the way of the Holy Walk, a re-enactment of the night of Christ’s birth.
This re-enactment has been going on for the past 27 years. Several of them with the participation of the Clark family. One year it was a brisk (CHOKE) 15 degrees with a 45 mph breeze (HA) coming straight out of the north. In case you didn’t guess that made for some pretty rough performances from the participants….cocoa or no cocoa!!! Out of all the years we’ve either attended or participated, I don’t remember a more beautiful night than what we had this year, however.
This year – as last year – Jeff and the girls participated. Jeffrey and I remained at home – he to watch Squish, me to work. 
It went well though and we were all glad to see one another at the end of the night.
Below is my crew, all dressed up ready to be the family of Ohaliab of Gaza, the weaver. Ohaliab was joined by his daughters Marah, Daven, Ruth and Lydia. They are all weavers extraordinaire! (Despite the fact that the sandal maker in the next tent accused Ohaliab of weaving, only because he was too stupid to do man’s work.) 
This year, Danica was a guide – Joanna of Hebron – who brought her family to Bethlehem in order to pay their taxes. She had to bring her family, instead of her husband, because, “Ah, the poor man, he was killed in a camel accident. One night, the camel sat upon him and SQUASH, he was as flatbread. But, thankfully, I still have the camel.” 
(she’s my daughter)
Each guest entering the city must be a part of a “family.” They are told where they are from, how long they have been traveling and they are given their papers. They must keep their papers at all times, for you never know when a soldier may demand them of you. It is recommended that you also adopt a Jewish name. Strongly recommended, in fact.
As each family travels into the city, with the Roman soldiers walking around, they are called ‘Hebrew dogs’, they are put into stocks or behind bars. The soldiers are known to spit at their feet and slap them with their swords. (They only whack the guides!) All the while, the throng is moving through the town, visiting the merchants, eating roast apples, warming themselves by the fires only to end up at the stable where Mary has just given birth.
This weekend, one of the guides who has been around for quite a while was being especially harassed by one of the soldiers. The soldier was inspecting his “family”, prior to sending them in to pay their taxes. The soldier looked about and demanded of the guide – “So dog, where is your wife?” The guide, without flinching said, “Sir, my wife died in childbirth.” The soldier said, “HA! If I had a family your size, I’d have died as well!” “I hope not in childbirth Sir.” was Ted’s quick witted reply. At a time when the family was required to remain silent, the entire tent erupted in hilarity!!! The soldier was beside himself to regain control. (Later, when the guests had all left, the soldier sure gave Ted a hard time.)
All in all, we came out pretty well – a few sore throats, some aching muscles, but everyone knew that this time – this precious time, in a field, under the stars with the snow blowing furiously about – that they were indeed upon holy ground. Even if it was frozen solid.
