Three Little Brothers

The Three Little Brothers

The moment I saw them, I became totally charmed by the set of bread-dough figurines I discovered in the pages of a Craft magazine. They were Christmas candle holders and simply titled “Little Brothers”. I decided I just had to make them.

As I was putting the three “Little Brothers” together, it occurred to me that perhaps, if I listened very closely, they would begin to speak of how they came to be such excellent candle holders.

So, though the figures themselves came from the pages of the magazine, the story that walked into my head that day is entirely my own. Here now is the story, just as the three little brothers told it to me…

Once, long ago, when Christianity was very young and miracles seemed to happen almost every day, there lived three little monks in a monastery.

Their order, called the order of St. Nicholas, was very poor, and the brothers had to work hard to support them selves and, still – as St. Nicholas had decreed – take in the poor and the homeless and feed and clothe them as best they could.

Every brother had his own special task to perform at the monastery. Some were assigned to the fields, tending sheep or herding cattle. Others were best at working in the gardens. Still others were good at cooking, or making candles, or carpentry, or composing hymns for all to sing at Matins. A few of the brothers who were very good at penmanship were allowed to transcribe from the ancient scrolls, the story of Christmas and the Christ Child.

A brother, upon joining the order, was given a chance to try his hand at all things to see just where his niche might be. The three little brothers had each tried their hands at many things; but, alas, not one of the three seemed able to do anything especially well.

The abbot was patient, and never seemed to be angry when he heard the complaints about the three brothers from the cook, or the baker, or the honey bee tender. Each time, he would call the little brothers to him, with a sigh, and tell them not to despair as he was sure that God had a special task for each of them to do. It was simply a matter of finding the right one.

Then he would send them away with his blessing to make candles, or scrub floors, or polish silver, or just to learn their prayers.

Of course each little brother tried very hard to do each chore he was assigned. But as always, one by one, they found themselves being summoned to speak with the abbot.
The abbot, with a sad shake of his head, would set about finding new tasks for them to do.

So the year went for the little brothers – each trying, each failing, but always hoping that the next task would be
‘just the right one’

Then came December, the month of the Christ Child’s birth, and very special, too, to St. Nicholas, the monastery’s patron saint. His birthday also fell in December.

St. Nicholas, upon establishing the order had told the monks that every December they were to prepare a great feast and make things for the poor and the homeless who couldn’t afford to celebrate Christmas. They were to throw open the gates of the monastery on Christmas morning and let the people come in and gather what was needed by each family to enjoy, and rejoice in God’s day.

Each and every monk was busy all month preparing for the Christ Child’s birthday. The three little brothers, of course, tried to help. But, instead they hindered the efforts made by the other monks.

As was the custom each year, all the gifts for the poor and the needy – along with the hams, joins of lamb and pots of honey – were placed in the chapel before crèche of the Christ Child. Then, on Christmas Eve, should He care to wake and look from his bed of straw, He could see at a glance that the order of St. Nicholas had fulfilled every wish, every need as best it could and, perhaps, He would give His blessing to all they had done.

But, on this particular Christmas Eve, a great howling snowstorm came tearing down, filling the monastery with bone-chilling cold. The wind whistled through every nook and cranny, causing many a good monk to take to his bed just to keep the frost from forming on the tip of his nose.

The three little brothers had been assigned by the good abbot the task of keeping the candles lit ‘round the crèche
So that Baby Jesus could see, should he awake.

But the cold north wind had no mercy on the three little brothers. They scuttled about lighting the tapers each time they blew out, all the while fearing that, at this task, too, they would fail. Poor little brothers, as soon as they re-lit one of the candles, another gust of wind would shriek past… Swoosh! Out, again.

Quick! Over there! In the corner! Oh, my! The one by the door! Quickly they ran, hither and yon, exhausting themselves until they fell to the stones, quite out of breath.

They decided to try once again to keep at least three candles alight by somehow shielding them with their bodies.

Each took a station close to the Christ Child’s bed of straw. Each with a candle held tightly in his hand, hoping and praying with each gust of wind that the candle they grasped would stay lit through the night.

All night long, hour after shivery hour, the three little brothers kept their vigil without a sound, waiting patiently for the moment when the Christ Child would awaken and, with a smile, bless all the gifts – large and small.

If you recall, I said this was an age when miracles, large and small, occurred with regularity. Well, one happened that night.

Not once during the remainder of the night did a candle go out, no matter how hard the north wind blew. Each little brother knew in his heart that he had found, at last his own special task.

The End