“Be not afraid,” he said. “We are on our way to Bethlehem to pay homage to the Christ Child. You must allow us to pass.”
The soldiers dropped their weapons and threw themselves on the ground. One of them signaled that the procession could pass through the city gate. Soon the pilgrims were inside the solid city walls.
It was early in the morning, and the city was not yet awake. The procession of pilgrims stopped on a hill with a good view of the harbor and the Bosporus, which divides Europe from Asia. The straits were so narrow that they could see across to the other side.
“The time is 495,” said Ephiriel. “Originally, the city was called Byzantium. But in the Year of Our Lord 330 it was made the capital of the Roman Empire by the Emperor Constantine. The city was built to be the new Rome, and it was soon given the name Constantinople. In just under a thousand years, in 1453, the city will be conquered by the Turks, and they will give it the name Istanbul.”
“Had the soldiers heard about Jesus?” Elisabet wanted to know.
“We can take that for granted. The Emperor Constantine made Christianity a lawful religion in the Roman Empire as early as 313. He was baptized himself just before he died. Some years later, in 380, Christianity became the state religion throughout the Roman Empire.”
“How do you remember all the dates?” asked Elisabet.
“I just have to follow the angel watch,” replied Ephiriel. “Since we don’t have to bother about seconds, minutes, hours, and days, it’s not so difficult to remember the years. Another date we must make note of is the year 395, exactly a hundred years ago. That was when the Roman Empire was divided, and Constantinople became the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire.”
The angel Seraphiel came up. He pointed at a beautiful church. “That church is called a basilica,” he said, “and was built in honor of God’s wisdom by the Emperor Constantine. In a few years, it will be destroyed by fire, but on the same spot the lovely Hagia Sophia will be built. It will stand as a landmark for centuries.”
Quirinius cleared his throat. “We must get across the Bosporus,” he said. “Then it’s not very far to Syria. Dixi!”
Joshua thumped his shepherd’s crook on the ground. “To Bethlehem! To Bethlehem!”
They ran down through the city and before long were standing on the farthest point of the Golden Horn. At the edge of the pier they were met by a dignified man in colorful clothes, with a glittering scepter in his hand. In the other hand he was holding a thick book.
Impuriel was already preparing to say “Fear not,” but the regal-looking man paid no attention to the cherub. He came straight toward them.
“I am the Emperor Augustus and I will accompany you across the Bosporus. I order you to accept this gesture on my part without any unpleasant protests.”
He pointed out a ship with several large sails. The sheep were already jumping on board.
“Then you are one of us,” said Ephiriel.
Elisabet turned to the angel and said, “I didn’t know the Emperor Augustus was a Christian.”
A mysterious smile passed over the angel’s face. “The old Roman Emperor has been part of the Christmas gospel as a kind of stowaway for many centuries. And God’s kingdom is open to everyone, even people who travel without a ticket.”
Elisabet thought the angel’s words made heaven seem even bigger than she had imagined. She hid what he had said in her heart.
Soon the pilgrims had crossed the Bosporus. As they landed, Elisabet spoke to the Roman Emperor and asked what kind of book he had under his arm. She thought he was going to say it was the Bible—or at least a hymn book. But the Emperor Augustus said, “It is the sacred census.”
He said no more. He was so handsome and so proud and he clearly did not like talking too long at a time, at least not to little girls. Elisabet thought that was odd; surely it wasn’t every day that a Roman Emperor was able to meet a girl who had run off after a lamb who had escaped from a big store in Norway and headed for Bethlehem.
Joshua struck the ground with his crook and reminded them that they had to leave. But they hadn’t gone very far before they stopped on a hill above the town of Chalcedon.
The town was teeming with priests; they were like a swarm of bees. Elisabet was astonished—in fact, almost scared—to see so many priests at once.
“Fear not,” said the angel Seraphiel. “The time is 451 years after the birth of Jesus, and the biggest conference in the history of the Christian Church is being held down there. The town is called Chalcedon, and priests and bishops from the whole of the Christian world are here.”
“What are they going to talk about?” Elisabet wanted to know.
The angel laughed. “They’re trying to reach agreement about correct Christian doctrine.”
“Are they going to agree?”
“After long discussions, they’ll finally make a declaration that Jesus was both God and man. But they’re discussing many other things as well. Some of them are so eager to determine the correct belief that in their haste they forget what is most important.”
“And what’s that?” asked Elisabet.
“That Jesus came into the world to teach people to be kind to one another. No other lesson is more difficult for a human being to learn, but no other lesson is more important. It’s not as important, for example, to know how many angels there are in heaven or whether God has a splinter in His little finger.”
“Has he really got one?”
“It doesn’t matter, I told you. It’s more important to see the beam in your own eye.”
Elisabet thought it was very difficult to understand that answer, but she hid the angel’s words in her heart. She would perhaps understand them better another time.
The two Wise Men were not entirely satisfied with what the angel had said. “It is, strictly speaking, not necessary to believe in angels at all.” said Caspar. “Many people believe that such concepts have very little to do with what Jesus wished to teach us.”
“All the angel stories may only be fairy tales,” added Balthazar. “But that Jesus wished to teach humans to be kind to one another is no fairy tale.”
Now Ephiriel began to argue. “We angels are not in the habit of using such strong words,” he said in a very gentle voice. “All the same, I must say that this is one of the silliest things I’ve ever heard, at least on this pilgrimage. You should be ashamed of yourselves, both of you. Or you should stay in the Orient and not start wandering west with such irresponsible talk.”
“Yes, indeed,” added Impuriel. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, both of you. I’m offended.”
The next moment, Impuriel did something Elisabet thought angels in heaven would never do. He put his hand in front of his offended face and thumbed his nose at the two Wise Men from the Orient!
“Bah to you!” said the cherub. “Yes, indeed!”
A certain nervousness began to spread among the godly company. The angel Seraphiel spread his arms to show that he was not carrying any weapons.
“It’s easy to lose courage when even your nearest and dearest lose faith in you. But although we can disagree about such important matters of belief, we mustn’t under any circumstances quarrel. Now, let’s try to forget all the unkind things that have been said and all the unkindness that was thumbed.”
Joshua the shepherd was clearly in agreement with the last speaker, for he thumped his crook on the ground and said, “To Bethlehem! To Bethlehem!”
And with that they started moving down through Phrygia.
* * *
JOACHIM sighed.
“It’s silly when grownups quarrel,” he said. “But it’s even sillier when even the angels in heaven start quarreling.”
Papa nodded. “These have always been sensitive matters. It’s not the first time people have gotten annoyed because of a discussion about angels.”
“But they didn’t disagree so very much,” protested Mama. “The angels and the Wise Men agreed that the most important lesson
Jesus wanted to teach people was that we ought to be kind to one another. And that can, in fact, be much more difficult than believing in angels.”
Papa opened the atlas and pointed out Constantinople, which is called Istanbul today, as well as the narrow Bosporus Strait where the Emperor Augustus had taken the pilgrims across by ship.
In the pancake book, he found the old city of Chalcedon, where all the priests had met to discuss what Christian doctrine was. Now the pilgrims were in Asia.
* * *
WHEN Mama came home from work that afternoon, she had a large envelope full of newspaper articles. She had been to the library to get copies of everything that had appeared in the newspapers when Elisabet Hansen disappeared in 1948.
The family sat around the coffee table, reading the old newspaper cuttings. They examined the picture of Elisabet Hansen most carefully. Mama took down the photo of the grownup Elisabet from the mantelpiece and compared the pictures.
Could the two pictures be of the same Elisabet?
“Both of them have fair hair,” said Mama. “Don’t they both have a slightly pointy nose, too?”
Papa was more interested in the disappearance. As he read the old newspapers, he said, “Her mother was a teacher … Her father was a well-known journalist … Only her little knitted cap was found when the snow melted a few months later … in the woods. Otherwise, the police had no clues at all.”
“They hadn’t read the magic Advent calendar,” said Joachim.
“Even if they had, they couldn’t have arrested an angel,” Papa said, laughing.
After Mama and Papa said good night that evening, Joachim put the light on again. It occurred to him that he hadn’t looked at the large picture on the outside of the Advent calendar for several days. That was because most of the doors in the calendar had been opened. So he closed them.
And it happened again!
The picture showed Mary and Joseph leaning over the Baby Jesus in the manger. In the background were the Wise Men and the angels descending through the clouds to tell the shepherds in the fields that Jesus was born.
High up on the left side, there was a picture of two men in fine clothes. Unlike all the others, they were standing with their backs to the scene. Joachim had seen them many times before, and now he was quite certain that they were supposed to be Quirinius and the Emperor Augustus. But only at this moment did he notice that the Emperor was carrying a shining scepter.
Had he been holding a scepter in his hand ever since Joachim was given the calendar in the little bookstore? Or had the scepter drawn itself in?
19
DECEMBER 19
… he thought it was so much fun to throw gifts through people’s windows …
ON December 19, there was a picture of a nisse, a Christmas elf, in the magic Advent calendar. He had long white hair and a white beard. He was wearing a red cloak and a pointed red hat. On his chest hung a large silver cross set with a red stone.
It was Mama’s turn to read.
MELCHIOR
A procession was speeding through Asia Minor one day toward the end of the fourth century.
They traveled across the high plains of Phrygia and passed some salt lakes where the birds can stand on the water. On their long journey they encountered bears, wolves, and jackals. But when a wolf or a bear came running toward them, they always managed to step aside by one or two weeks and avoid the wild animal.
They climbed up through a pass in the high mountain range of Pamphylia, which stretches from east to west along the Mediterranean coast. A few thousand meters above sea level, they saw a figure dressed in green. It was a tall man, sitting like a living landmark at the point where the road began tilting down toward the Mediterranean Sea.
As soon as they noticed the man in green, Caspar and Balthazar began waving and tried to get past the sheep.
“Who’s that?” asked Elisabet.
“He must certainly be one of us,” said the angel Ephiriel.
The stranger rose and threw his arms around Caspar and Balthazar. “The circle is complete,” he announced solemnly.
Elisabet didn’t understand this, but then the stranger came over and greeted her. “Welcome to Pamphylia,” he said. “My name is Melchior, third Wise Man and King of Egryskulla.”
Then Elisabet understood what he had meant by the circle being complete, for now all Three Kings of the Orient were together.
“You have such strange names,” she said. “You’re Wise Men, Kings of the Orient, and Caspar, Balthazar, and Melchior.”
Melchior smiled from ear to ear. “We have even more names. In Greek, we are called Galagat, Magalat, and Sakarin. Some people call us Magi. But it doesn’t matter what they call us. We are part of this story on behalf of all people on earth who do not come from the Holy Land.”
Elisabet looked up at the angel Ephiriel, and the angel nodded. “That’s quite true.”
“Of course. One would not tell lies, would one?” Melchior went on. “One would not be a King of the Orient unless one spoke the truth, would one? One would not be particularly wise, either, only seeming-wise.”
He was so funny when he talked that Elisabet couldn’t help laughing.
He had more to say. “I am so happy that I often want to sing and dance. And I am especially happy at Christmas time, for that’s when Jesus was born.”
“That’s enough,” said Joshua, striking a stone with his shepherd’s crook. “To Bethlehem! To Bethlehem!”
But Melchior spoke again. “We must greet the Christmas nisse first. He lives just below here.”
They set off down the steep mountainside toward the Mediterranean. As they ran, Elisabet said, “Is it really true that we’re going to greet the Christmas nisse?”
Ephiriel pointed down at a town clinging to the side of the mountain. They could only catch a glimpse of the Mediterranean in the background.
“The time is 322. The town is called Myra, and this is where Paul came when he was traveling to Rome to tell the capital of the Roman Empire about Jesus. He founded a Christian community in Myra, too.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with the Christmas nisse.”
But the angel went on, “Two hundred years after Paul came to Myra, a boy called Nicholas was born here. His parents were Christians, and when he was a grown man, Nicholas was elected Pope of Myra. In Myra there lived a girl who was very poor because her father had lost everything he owned. She wanted to get married, but it was quite impossible because she had no money for a dowry. Bishop Nicholas wanted to help the poor girl, but he knew her family were too proud to accept a gift of money.”
“Perhaps he could have put some money into her father’s bank account,” suggested Elisabet.
“Yes, but this was a long time before such things as banks existed. Nicholas did something similar, though. He crept out during the night and threw a bag of gold coins through the family’s open window. That way, the young girl was able to marry, after all.”
“That was kind of him.”
“But that wasn’t the end of it. He thought it was so much fun to throw gifts through people’s windows that he went on doing it. When he died, many legends were told about him. Later, he came to be known as St. Nicholas. In English, that turned into Santa Claus, and in Norwegian into the Christmas nisse. The word nisse comes from Nicholas, and so do the names Nils and Klaus.”
“Did he have a red suit, a long white beard, and a red knitted cap?”
“Wait and see,” said the angel Ephiriel.
The sun had not yet risen. They stopped in front of a low church building in Myra, and as soon as they did, the door opened. Out strode a man with a long red cloak, a long white beard, and a red hat on his head. Around his neck he wore a large silver cross with a red stone in it. He almost looked like a Christmas nisse, but Ephiriel whispered in Elisabet’s ear that the time was 325 years after the birth of Jesus and those were the clothes that bishops wore at that time.
“It is Bishop Nicholas
of Myra,” whispered the angel.
Elisabet had an idea. “Does the name have anything to do with myrrh?”
“You do well to ask, for myrrh was one of the three Christmas gifts to the Christ Child,” said the angel with a smile. “It’s become usual to give gifts at Christmas because of the gifts the Three Wise Men brought to the Christ Child, and because of Bishop Nicholas’s generosity.”
In his arms, the man held three different caskets. He walked with firm steps toward the Three Kings of the Orient, bowed low, and offered each of them a casket. Caspar’s casket was full of shining gold coins. In Balthazar’s casket was frankincense, and in Melchior’s, myrrh.
“We are on our way to Bethlehem,” said Caspar.
Bishop Nicholas laughed so that his beard shook. “Ho, ho! So you must take a few little gifts for the Child in the manger. You absolutely must do that, mustn’t you? Ho, ho!”
Since Elisabet was standing in front of a real Christmas nisse, she ran right up to him and felt his red cloak. He bent down and lifted her up on his arm. She tugged on his beard to find out whether it was real, and it was.
“Why are you so kind?” she asked.
“Ho, ho!” laughed the man in red again. “The more we give away, the richer we become. And the more we keep for ourselves, the poorer we become. That’s the mystery of generosity, neither more nor less. But it’s the mystery of poverty, too.”
Impuriel clapped. “Well spoken, Bishop!”
Bishop Nicholas continued, “All those who collect treasures upon earth will be very poor one day. But those who have given away all they possess will never be poor. Besides, they have had so much fun that they have always rejoiced. Ho, ho! For the greatest joy on earth is generosity.”
“Maybe,” said Elisabet. “But first you have to own something to give it away.”
At that, the good-natured bishop laughed so heartily that his whole body shook. Elisabet almost became seasick as she sat on his arm.
“Not at all,” he said, when he had swallowed enough of his laughter so that there was room in his mouth for speaking as well. “You don’t need to own anything at all to feel generosity fizzing in your veins. A little smile is enough, or something you’ve made yourself.”