When a young boy comes to an old sandal maker and ask him to make a pair of adult-sized sandals for a baby, the man is confused and surprised by his request. After all, so many children of that time never made it to adulthood and so his request seemed foolish. The boy tells the old man that three great men came to see the baby and one of them looked into the manger and said Rab and the boy figured if the child was going to grow up to be a rabbi, he would need good footwear. The boy says his father has given him a lamb to start his own flock, but now, after seeing the baby, has given him permission to use the lamb for the leather. And there their journey begins.
Shoes for the Shepherd
By Dixielee (Reed) TrippAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2010 Dixielee (Reed) Tripp
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4520-2288-8 Chapter One
The old cobbler sat, his knees gripping the sides of the wooden workbench. His nimble fingers worked the sandal snugged tightly to a clay last. He had formed the lasts using his own foot as a model and then mounted each one on a post of wood which sat firmly fixed into a hole in the bench.
He worked a sharp awl through the leather of the insole and into the wooden sole below. Each hole had to be pierced through the layers of leather and wood so that a binding of leather thongs pulled securely through them would hold each of the glued layers. His name was Jubal ben Eliazar.
He was a slight man, well past 60 years. His hair was silvery white; his skin burnished from the desert sun which beat against the earth nearly every day of every year. The years of making sandals had caused his fingers to become bent with knobs of bone jutting out at angles.
He smiled to himself thinking of the times he had pointed one of those fingers to give directions only to realize that because of the bends and knobs he was pointing in the wrong direction. Another brief smile crossed his lips and his eyes shimmered with the thoughts of his infirmity.
He had been a sandal maker since childhood, first learning the skills from his father and then, passing those skills on to his own sons long gone to their own homes, families and lives. His skills had given him a good life.
And so he sat, as he did each day, his shoulders bowed over the last, stitching then pulling on the thongs of leather through the edge of each sole until he had completed a durable thing which, because of the soles thickness would keep the heat of the desert sand from burning the feet of his customers .
He was alone. His precious wife, Esther, had long ago left the earth to bide her time in Heaven while she waited for him to join her. But his time had not yet come and so he toiled year after year, mounting each sandal on a last, stitching and shaping and stitching again. In a time when many people went without sandals or just used a simple thong tied to a wooden sole, his sandals and his talent were respected. He was a master craftsman and so admired by the priests of the Temple in Jerusalem that he had become their personal cobbler.
His small home was his world. He had built it himself with the help of his sons, mixing clay, sand, manure and water, brick by brick, until they had created a comfortable dwelling for Esther and him. The walls were thick to keep the heat of the desert out, the roof flat so that hot nights could be spent sleeping beneath the clear star-filled Heaven, a gift from God to those he had chosen. The rooms of the home were large enough to fill with the love he had always felt for Esther and their sons. He was a man contented save for the loneliness without her.
This one room, set aside for his business, was filled with the goods of his trade. Across the room neatly cut squares of sheepskin were stretched on frames for drying. He had carefully clipped the wool from the outside of the hides down to the cuticle and then scraped the flesh from the inner side. After the tanning process he had hung them on wooden frames to cure allowing them enough time to make them just right for the next pair of sandals he would craft.
Chapter Two
Without quite realizing why, the old man felt the presence of another person. He turned to see a young boy standing in the doorway quietly watching him working at the lasts.
The boy was about eight years old. His deeply tanned skin glowed in the light that surrounded him emphasized by oil from the sheep he and his family raised in the pastures surrounding the town. His knees were knobby, his legs spindly, his feet bare. He wore a short chemise made of home-woven wool which his mother had carded and spun from the lambs his father herded. Dust from the desert had settled on it giving it a sandy-brown look.
The old man knew him as the son of one of the shepherds who plied their trade in the desert among the surrounding hills and valleys. His name was Michah.
"I have come to ask you to make a pair of sandals." Michah said.
"And what can you pay me for these sandals?" Jubal said somewhat surprised at the request for he knew no child of Michah's age could have anything worth the price of the sandals with which to pay.
"I cannot pay for them." The boy whispered.
"Oh, and you expect me to give them to you free?" the old man laughed.
"No, father, I want to trade for them."
Jubal smiled at the reference to him as 'father.' The term of endearment he had not heard for such a long time softened his heart to the boy's request.
"I want to trade for them." The boy said again.
"Ah, such a young boy and already prepared to haggle in the streets for something you don't even need. How many boys do you see wearing sandals, lad?" The old man asked.
Michah blushed and said quickly, "None, but they are not for me."
"Oh, then for your father I suppose?" Jubal asked.
"No. not for my father either." Michah replied.
"Well, tell me then, who are they for and what do you have to barter with that will make my work worth the doing? Come now, speak up!" Jubal said.
Michah hesitated for a moment and then quietly said, in a voice almost impossible to hear, "I want them for a baby."
The old man laughed heartily. "Since when do babies need sandals? You are wasting my time, which is precious to me to make sandals for a child who can't even walk? This is nonsense!"
"Hear me out, father for I have not come to this task lightly nor out of the foolishness you attribute to children. I know what I need. I do not want a pair of baby sandals. I want a pair of men's sandals so that when the baby grows to manhood, he will have the best sandals anyone can offer."
"My you certainly have your mind made up, don't you." Jubal said. "So who is this baby whom you have decided needs sandals so early in life?"
"His name is Yeshua ben Yoseph."
"I have no recollection of such a name for a child born here in Bethlehem. Where have you found this child? In the pastures with your sheep?" Jubal questioned.
"No father, he was born in the old stable behind the inn three nights past. Did you not see the wondrous star that night? Did you not ask why it shone so brightly? And did you not see that the light of that star shone the brightest on the stable?" Michah asked.
"Goodness me, so many questions." Jubal said. "Do you ever run out of questions and answers even before I have had time to ask them?"
Michah smiled. "But I know what I need to know and all I ask is that you help me."
"Yes, you certainly seem to know. And now you come to me and I'm supposed to take you at your word and make shoes for a baby, but they are supposed to be the size of a man's foot and you want to barter for them because you have nothing else of value and ..." Jubal stopped, realizing that nothing he could say at this point would change the child's mind.
"But the star, didn't you see it?" the boy asked again.
"No, but then it had been a long day and I was tired. I went to bed early that night. I saw nothing." Jubal said.
"But I did," Michah persisted. "I was there and I saw the star. And I saw the baby." Michah's voice was filled with wonderment. "And now I must have a pair of sandals and they must be the very best you can make. Please father, I do have something to trade."
"Why? Why would that baby be so important to you just because there was a shining star that night? There are many nights when stars are bright and seem almost, in the blackness of the desert, to shine on an object. Why do you think this event is so different?" Jubal asked as he tried to make sense of the boy's story.
"It was something that happened after the baby was born that led me to the idea of the sandals. You see it wasn't just me that was there. My father and two brothers were with me. We had seen the star from the pastures below the town and it led us to the stable. We saw the baby and even though he looked like any other baby, there was something different. Maybe it was the light from the star, I don't know, but about his head was a strange glow. That's all I know, what I saw is what I saw." Michah stopped as if the telling had exhausted him.
Jubal was amazed at how determined this small child was. "Tell me what else happened then." Jubal said.
"Three men all dressed in the most wonderful robes appeared. Each of their robes was of a different color woven with threads of gold and silver and each rode a camel whose harnesses matched the color of their master's robes. They were," other words escaped him and again he said, 'wonderful!'" Michah exclaimed.
"They were men of great knowing too. You could tell that. They stepped to the manger that the baby had been laid in, looked down at him and I heard one of them softly say, "Reb." It was as though he saw something the rest of us could not." Michah said still amazed at all he had seen.
"Impossible!" the old man exclaimed. "Why would he use such a term for a tiny newborn baby? It makes no sense."
"I know, father, I know. But that is what he said, 'Reb'." Michah repeated.
"But that is a title of great learning only given to those who have studied the Torah and who know the laws of our land, not some baby. And anyway, tradition says that the son follows the father. What trade is his father settled in?" Jubal asked.
"I heard them say his father was a carpenter." Michah replied.
"Oh, a carpenter for a father and the father begets a rabbi for a son?
Not possible! He should be a carpenter, not attempt to change his station. He must follow his father." Jubal said.
"The three men talked of that and then I heard one whisper that the child would_follow in his father's trade. But I could not understand how." The boy said.
The old man was overwhelmed by this news and yet, had no idea what to make of it.
"But it's true. I swear it! He called the baby "Reb" and he meant it too!" the child exclaimed.
Michah seemed so determined in his knowledge that it was hard to doubt him for it was clear he had heard what he said he'd heard and was repeating it as truth. But how? How could it be? How could these men, whom the boy had described as great, with much knowing of things the he could never hope to know, how could they have looked into that manger and made such a decision? Where had they come from? And why? These were questions he would spend much time pondering and asking of the townsfolk to find the answers. But for now the needs of this child must be reckoned with.
"You said you came to barter. And what is it you have to barter?" Jubal asked, for again he thought of how insignificant anything such a child could have would be of enough value with which to trade.
"My father has given me a lamb. It is supposed to be used to start my own flock, but I want to use it for the sandals. After going to the stable that night, my father said I could. Will you make them?" Michah begged.
Shoes for a baby who might not even grow to manhood in this hostile land? It all seemed so foolish and yet, how could he turn the child away? Such faith could not be ignored, nor could a boy of such determination be denied. He would consider making the shoes, but, he told the boy, he must have time to think on it.
"Come back tomorrow after I have had time to think. I plan to ask around town of others as to what happened that night." Jubal said. It was something he needed to know more about. "And bring the lamb." He added as an afterthought.
The boy left the cobbler's shop quietly without saying another word leaving the old man to ponder all he had heard from this, oh so wise, child.
Chapter Three
It was mid-afternoon the next day before Michah returned. He carried in his arms a fairly good-sized lamb its woolly hide shining in the sunlight.
Jubal took the lamb from the boy who released it reluctantly, holding on for a brief moment before letting it go. The old man held the lamb gently out of respect for the sacrifice it was about to make and in an effort to let the boy understand that he also understood the unspoken pain Michah was suffering.
Jubal knew the skin of this lamb would be soft and supple after tanning and would be a comfort to any foot wrapped in its leather. The boy had brought him a perfect animal and he would see to it that the end result would be a masterpiece, beyond the sandals he had made for the priests.
The old man ran his fingers through the wool again, turned to Michah and asked, "You say these sandals are for a rabbi? If they are so important then perhaps we should have the lamb blessed. You know I make shoes for the temple priests; would you be willing to go with me to Jerusalem and ask one of the priests who is my friend for that blessing?"
"I will ask my father." Michah said, "I think he will let me go because he understands why I am doing this. I'll let you know tomorrow." Without another word, Michah bolted from the room anxious not only to speak to his father but also to hide the tears which had begun to mark small brown rivers down his dusty cheeks.
Chapter Four
The sun had barely risen when Michah again presented himself to the old man excited as he always was. "My father says if we can go during Shabbat, then I am free to go, but that I can't spend any more time away from our flocks if I am to repay him for the lamb. I agreed to his request."
"Good," Jubal said, "then we will leave early-afternoon on Friday so that we can receive the priest's blessing before sunset. I have a friend in Jerusalem and we will stay the night as his guests so that we can honor Shabbat on Saturday and be rested enough on Sunday morning to return home. Are you agreed to that?"
Michah, filled with the excitement of a journey to Jerusalem for the first time, answered as quickly as he could. "Oh, yes, I will be here, I will be here early," he repeated.
"Well then, I will see you on Friday." Jubal said, "We will walk together to the temple for the blessing and prayer. I will keep the lamb here and feed him these two days hence. Bring a rope with you so you can lead him. Now, go on your way. You must be good to your father so he will help you to restart your own flock. For today, you have forfeited all that you had."
Michah hugged the lamb, rubbing his fingers through the dusty wool and then dashed from the shop to tell his father and mother what he was going to do.
Michah's mother said. "If you are to stay with ben Eliazar's friends you must take a gift to them. I will bake loaves of challah for the blessing of bread after Kiddush. The bread will please his friend's family. Now get to bed, we have much to do tomorrow."
Chapter Five
On Friday the boy came early just past the time when the sun was at its highest, for the six miles of dusty road they would walk would take time and they would need more time to wash their feet before entering The Temple.
Michah slipped the rope he'd brought around the neck of the lamb slung the bag with the challah loaves his mother had wrapped in clean cloths over his should and he and Jubal began their trek to the city.
The road to Jerusalem was wide and many travelers were met or followed along its straight course. Merchants from Hebron and Beersheba pulled carts with goods from their cities. Holy men dressed in the skins of wild animals passed quietly, their pace quickening as the walls of the great city and temple came into view the better to be nearer their God.
The hours drifted by as the two travelers walked slowly for there was no need to hasten. They had allowed the time for a more leisurely walk. Occasionally they would stop to rest and allow the lamb to graze what little grass there was along the roadway. A drink or two from the leather water bag Jubal had suspended by thongs from around his neck and they would begin to walk again the soft desert dust swirling between their toes and kicking up at their heels.
They talked about the sandals, how they would look, what designs he would use and slowly, out of that conversation came an idea. He had always made something more like a shoe for the priests. These shoes were more stable and made from many layers of leather, felt and wood. The strength of them helped the priests in their daily duties about the Temple and as they visited among the congregations. Perhaps, Jubal thought, he should do the same for this new baby. Perhaps he would need something stronger than sandals and he presented the idea to Michah.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Shoes for the Shepherdby Dixielee (Reed) Tripp Copyright © 2010 by Dixielee (Reed) Tripp. Excerpted by permission.
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