I did as he requested, and with my hand in his we shuffled forward slowly. “Joseph, this reminds me of other days,” I told him. “My wife and I always followed this routine with our two boys on Christmas morning when they were young. Together we would lead them downstairs into our living room and stand them right in front of the tree, surrounded by presents all lovingly wrapped by Kitty. The expressions of surprise and joy on their small faces when we finally told them they could open their eyes was our greatest Christmas gift. With luck we’ll soon be doing it again, for our grandchildren.”

“You surprise me, Matthias.”

“How?”

“That you anticipate, even now, celebrating the birth of Jesus despite your personal doubts and public allegations.”

“Wel-l-l, Christmas has become little more than another happy holiday in our country. Now, people of all faiths join in, at least in the exchanging of gifts. Except for an old-fashioned carol or two, one rarely hears the name of Jesus any more, above the clamor of department store crowds and the ringing of cash registers.”

“Yes, I know,” he said sadly.

Soon I felt a warm breeze on my face, and I knew we were standing in the sun when the light filtering through my closed eyelids changed to a bright apricot. I fought back the temptation to peek and shuffled forward for several more steps before Joseph said, “Now you may look, Matthias!”

At first the harsh desert sun blinded me. Then a loud moan escaped from my throat as I stared down from Joseph’s hillside estate at the city of Jerusalem, as Jesus had known it, clinging stubbornly to a rugged plateau of sloping limestone, its uneven profile hovering high above the surrounding fringe of undulating and barrea desert. I tried to drink it all in at once: the terraced palaces nearby, the purple valleys, the far-off clusters of limestone hovels with roofs that touched each other, the narrow roads and crowded alleys, and the distant gold-roofed structure I recognized instantly as the great Temple.

I don’t know how long I stared before I heard Joseph’s voice. “Well, what do you think of David’s city?”

At first I couldn’t bring myself to speak or take my eyes off the panorama that spread itself at our feet. My eyes swept from elevation to elevation, marked by blue pools, stone spires, green gardens, red-tiled roofs, marble walls and yellow towers, limestone buildings, and endless rows of palm and cypress. Finally I asked dazedly, “Why me, Joseph? With all the truly saintly and believing people in the world who would give their lives for only a minute’s glance at what I’m seeing now—why me?”

My host turned and took several steps back toward the villa before he looked over his shoulder at me and said, “Perhaps someday you will understand. For now I shall leave you alone with Jerusalem and your thoughts.”