On the outskirts of Bethlehem, a grass-covered field lays as an emerald gem against the backdrop of dusty, dry desert. It’s known as the Shepherd’s Field. Multiple shepherds bring their flocks to graze and lie down upon the tender grass.

As the sun begins to inch towards the horizon at the closing of the day, each shepherd calls to his sheep. To the observer, there is a cacophony of voices traveling across the hillside. But to the sheep, they hear one voice — the voice of their own shepherd.