“FOR THE MAJORITY of my life, I blocked out the painful memories of my childhood.  Having been so young when everything happened, there seemed to be added confusion to an already foggy reality.  I was born into a small family, the smallest of my clan. Our clan was the smallest in the tribe of Judah.  My father had always struggled to get by; he was not a man of education or religious status.  He found his place in the fields with what few sheep our family had.  My mother was a very quiet and modest woman, from what I was told.  She died only hours after I was born.  As a child, my closest friends were the sheep in our flock. Because we had no family around Bethlehem where we lived, I accompanied my father wherever he led our flock and found my home as an ever-changing scene.  The roof…