The story that poses the question: If there were three wise
men, what did they ride?
It was a cold evening, the sky clear and dark as the three wise
asses stood tied up beside the humble manger in the little town of
Bethlehem. A boy passed among them, giving each a handful of parched
grain.
“What's the special occasion?” grumbled the one called Meg,
but the others were too busy chewing to answer.
Suddenly, the door swung open and the boss came out. “Bring Meg
over here,” he hissed. “Quickly!”
The boys untied her and led her inside the shabby building where
the animal was brought before a tableau of a tired looking couple and
their newborn child. Meg snorted nervously.
Impossibly, the infant began speaking.
“Don't be afraid, Meg.”
Meg looked around but no one seemed to notice. “I didn't know
you little ones could talk . . . for that matter, I didn't know I
could speak Aramaic!”
The baby smiled. “You can't, but that won't stop you.”
“Right . . . well what can I do for you? . . .”
“Jesus . . . I guess I just wanted to talk to somebody before
all this . . . rigmarole begins.”
“Say what?” the ass brayed.
“You and I are a lot alike,” Jesus said. “We take on
people's burdens with very little thanks. In your case, you carry
people and their belongings until the day you can't do it any more,
then they get rid of you.”
“Hey, Buford-Saul has been good to me.”
“No doubt,” replied Jesus with a laugh.
“Well, what burden do you have, baby?”
The infant sighed. “Just the whole fuckin' world.”
Shocked, Meg backed away a step. “It's not right for a baby to
use language like that, even if he is only pretending to talk.”
Jesus smiled sadly. “Here's the deal, Meg. Once I've grown up
I'll give people a message of compassion and hope and the secret for
a happy, fulfilled life—treat others as you wish to be treated
yourself. Pretty simple.”
“Even an ass can remember that!”
“Then I'll sacrifice myself to drive the point home.”
Meg stared at him. “That seems . . . extreme.”
The baby shrugged. “Believe me, it'll be worth it. But what
chaps my ass is that I'll barely be with the angels above when men
start harnessing the power of my words to their own ends—for power,
for money, for plain ornery meanness.”
Distressed, Meg wailed, “What can I do? I'm just an ass!”
Jesus laughed as his mother lifted him to her breast. “At least
you admit it, dear Meg, at least you admit it!”
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