A nativity story updated for 2018

In those days a decree went out, from the emperors living in their glass houses with closed circuit surveillance cameras and 24-hour security patrols, that all the world should be embroiled in civil wars, so that their spheres of influence might be extended over unwilling populations.

And so the imperial forces used remote-control drones to bomb innocent victims in Yemen, and brought 20 million Yemenis to the brink of starvation.

And they burned to the ground 400 Rohingya villages in Myanmar, formerly known as Burma, and forced a seemingly endless line of 900,000 people to seek refuge in Bangladesh, where they lived in bamboo shelters on low-lying land prone to flooding.

And they bombed prosperous cities in Syria and Iraq into rubble, and turned religious factions against each other, and drove the Yazidi minority to retreat into rocky mountains.

And they maintained armies of occupation in Afghanistan and Crimea, and confined the residents of Gaza into their own private concentration camp, and built walls to restrict the movement of Mexicans and Hondurans and Palestinians.

And behold, the number of displaced people around the world, many of them refugees within their own countries, rose to 70 million.

And then to ease their collective conscience, the emperors and their allies declared Tuesday Dec. 18, one week before Christmas, to be International Migrants Day.

And so it came to pass that on International Migrants Day, a man named Yusef had fled from the shattered ruins of his home and business to a refugee camp in the desert, a place where he knew no one. He took with him Miriam, to whom he was engaged to be married, and who was expecting a child.

While they were in the camp, on their way to anywhere else, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn shortly before dawn, while others slept, in a flimsy tent provided by an international aid agency.

Miriam wrapped him in her own cloak, the only warmth she had, to protect him from the bitter cold of a desert night in December. And she laid him on the sand, because they had nowhere else to put him.

In that camp there were militia patrolling among the tents, bearing weapons supplied by the arms merchants of the emperors. The men kept their faces covered and their guns ready, keeping watch for enemies who might infiltrate the camp and incite unrest among the refugees.

Then they heard in the night the cry of an infant. And they were afraid, lest the infant’s cry should attract attention to their location. They said to each other, “Let us silence this child before he can cause any trouble.”

But the stars shone as brightly as ever above them, and they seemed to hear a voice saying inside them, “Do not be afraid; for see — I am bringing you good news of great joy, to all in this camp and beyond it: for unto you is born this night a sign of hope. This shall be your sign: in a simple fabric tent, you will find a child wrapped in his mother’s only cloak and lying on the sand.”

And the voice seemed to turn into a heavenly chorus, chanting, “There is no god but God; on earth, peace and goodwill to all!”

And the patrollers said to one another, “Allahu akbar! Let us see this miracle that has taken place, even in the midst of war and death and despair.”

So they went among the tents and found Miriam and Yusef, and the child lying on the sand. When they saw it, they were overcome by compassion. They marveled that a helpless infant, who would surely be a burden and a handicap to his parents in their flight into an unknown future, could be so loved that his mother would give the only thing that kept her warm in the desert night to her child.

And they took turns holding the child in their arms. They pulled down their masks to expose their stubbled and sun-burned faces, and muttered soothing sounds. And the baby gurgled and smiled at them.

And they gave his parents what they could — their water bottles, some snacks, and their warm coats. Then they went back out into the darkness just as dawn crept over the eastern horizon.

And Miriam treasured their kindness and pondered the experience in her heart.

But the patrolling militia told no one what they had seen and done.