The Meadow 153 the walls and corners of the room before settling upon the ears of each man and woman sitting and standing in our circle. “Ergo qui natus, die hodierna, Jesu, tibi sit gloria, Patris aeterni, verbum caro factum…” After concluding, Reverend Kruger leads the congregation through the song in English. I look around at the weathered faces ranging from black to brown to white as marble and, in the case of the two hard drinking small-time trainers, pasty. Everyone wears blue jeans and flannel shirts except Reverend Kruger who wears a cleric’s collar and black suit. His accompanist, Denis, wears the colors of Christmas: pants, black; silk blouse, red; the scarf round her neck, green. The colors enhance her just as some languages enhance a piece of music. “Michael will sing “Silent Night” in the German,” Reverend Kruger announces to the group. I clear my throat. “Stille Nacht! Heil’ge Nacht!” I begin. “Alles schlaft; eisam wacht.” After I finish, I blend into the English translation as if the German and the English are one tongue. I look around at each member of Reverend Kruger’s congregation. I can’t help thinking how all of us are squeezed into this small room beside the kitchen. I imagine all of us standing together in a circle outside the closed gates where Mary’s Child lies dead and silent. The gates open, revealing a wooden cradle stuffed with hay, providing Baby Jesus with a straw mattress upon which He can lay his head and rest his body. Mary and Joseph stand by his side, holding hands. A goat stands behind them. A rat scurries into the dark. I think of peace on earth, but the image of dead Mary’s Child pushes peace away. Suddenly, without giving a head’s up to Reverend Kruger, I begin singing: “I heard the bells on Christmas Day,
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