Good news!!

The image of shepherds in a gentle, pastoral setting often appears on our Christmas cards, nativity scenes, and in our mental preparations for the holiday. We frequently picture a man or a boy with a crook, dressed in soft, muted robes, surveying the tranquil pasture. It's a lovely image! However, I have known some shepherds in my life. My grandfather spent his first ten years in a shepherding village. If the stories I’ve heard are at all true, then the reality of shepherding is far from the idyllic life we imagine.

In fact, shepherding was a tough job for hard-working men who endured long, cold nights either awake in the elements or sleeping on rocky ground. Shepherds were often scorned and not even allowed into the local café due to the smell of sheep. Even in the parish church, there was a designated “shepherd's row” at the back for these men who came down from the hills. In the first century, shepherds were viewed as shiftless and dishonest individuals who grazed their flocks on other people's land. They weren't the pleasant faces we typically associate with the holiday season. We have sentimentalized them in our Christmas cards and artwork, portraying them as gentler figures awaiting a homecoming celebration. This portrayal is far from reality.

So, it is important to notice that, in Luke’s narrative, it is the shepherds to whom the angels first go to share the news of Jesus’ birth. They go to shepherds! One might expect a grand announcement, much like a blockbuster movie or a scene from Star Wars—angels parading through the streets of Jerusalem, proclaiming the news from the Temple to all the religious leaders, and demonstrating to the king and governor what was happening in Bethlehem. However, instead of delivering the message to the proud, powerful, and wealthy, the angels are sent by God to shepherds. I wonder why that is?

IN BREAKING NEWS

I believe the angels were sent to the shepherds because God came for people like them—born of a virgin, Emmanuel. This illustrates Jesus as the One sent to the lowly and outcast, which is exemplified by the shepherds. In Luke’s narrative, the shepherds symbolize the kind of individuals Jesus came to save. Listen to the power of the story:

“In that region, there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.” (Luke 2:8-11, NRSV)

The angels appeared to the shepherds while they were doing their ordinary work in the fields at night. These shepherds were engaged in the routine of their daily lives.

In the midst of their labor, an angel suddenly appeared to them. Naturally, they were terrified—perhaps "terrified with great fear" is a better translation of the Greek concept—because they had been taught throughout their lives that the appearance of God’s angel signaled judgment. This was not only a message of judgment for them but for all of Israel and indeed all the world. 

And yet, when the angel spoke, their fears were calmed: 

"Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord…” (Luke 2:10-11, NRSV)

The angel calms their fears, and the heavens open with glorious celebration. In the midst of their daily lives, the shepherds encounter an extraordinary God. They must have been surprised that God chose to break into their ordinary existence. But this seems to be the nature of God, doesn’t it?

Sometimes God appears, as He did to Abraham, when three angels stand nearby (Gen. 18). At other times, God might reveal Himself in a dream, as He did with Jacob (Gen. 28). Sometimes God might come to us, as He did with Elijah, in the sheer silence (1 Kings 19). Or it may be like the road to Emmaus, where Jesus joins us on our journey and teaches us a lesson, only to be recognized in the breaking of bread. God may meet us on the seashore, on a mountain, or in a valley. Sometimes it’s at an inn, even when the inn is full. We simply cannot predict when or where God in Christ will break into our lives, often when we least expect it, during the ordinary moments of our lives.

God met the shepherds in their everyday lives, at a time and place they never expected. Perhaps this is part of what the story of Jesus' birth conveys: God longs to break into our lives, into our ordinariness. Are we afraid? “Fear not,” the angel says, urging us to be ready in our everyday lives to receive good news of great joy.

Indeed, consider the profound way Paul recounts the story of God coming among us: Christ Jesus “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness” (Phil 2:7, NRSV). This encapsulates the essence of Jesus' birth: God entering our lives—not on high holy days, but on ordinary days, in ordinary places, embodied in human likeness. The birth of this child signifies God coming to us in our everyday lives, with the angel proclaiming to us,

“Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy…” (Luke 2:10, NRSV).

It's about God meeting us in our pain and loneliness. It's about God meeting us in our frustration and anger. It's about God meeting us Monday and Wednesday and Friday. It's about God stooping down - condescending - to be a part of our very real existence, in the everyday.

God met the shepherds in their ordinary lives and God wants to meet you there also!

SHOCKING NEWS

When God announced the birth of Jesus to the shepherds first, it was a demonstration of whom God was coming for. However, there is more significance to this event that we should remember. I attended Mass at the Cathedral of Saint Thomas More in Tallahassee on a Sunday in January or February, which I remember because it was cold that day. About five minutes into the homily, a commotion arose at the entrance of the church as three men walked in—wild hair, torn jeans, and worn shirts. They were wearing shoes but no socks. It was a crowded Sunday, but there were some seats available if people would just move to the middle of the pews. Nonetheless, the congregation appeared uncomfortable, pretending to pay attention to what was undoubtedly a captivating homily, yet no one shifted. The men were causing quite a stir as they made their way up the side aisle and eventually just sat down on the floor.

At that moment, our deacon, who was in his eighties, slowly rose from his seat. He was a university professor, a distinguished man with silver-gray hair, and he was known for being strict about propriety. He walked with a cane, and everyone thought, "You can't blame him for what he's about to do. They think they can just sit there on the floor?" It took him a while to reach the men, and although the priest continued with his homily, most of the congregation had shifted their attention to the deacon, anticipating what was sure to be a lesson in decorum. 

When the deacon finally reached the men, he dropped his cane and, with great effort, lowered himself to the floor. "May I sit with you?" he asked. I believe that’s why God sent the angels to the shepherds—to show us that the child to be born was for all people. You see, that’s what the announcement to the shepherds means to me: 

Radical action. Radical behavior. Radical gospel. Radical Savior. Radical God.

EVERYDAY NEWS

And the heavenly chorus sang glory to God. After this powerful display of praise, the shepherds felt compelled to see for themselves, so they hurried to Bethlehem to witness what the angels had told them. When they arrived in Bethlehem, they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they shared what had been revealed to them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. (Luke 2:16-18, NRSV) Christmas is a unique, special, and extraordinary time. The real question for us is, "Are we ready to live the Christmas life year-round? Are we ready to allow Jesus to break into the ordinary?"

Perhaps we may become too focused on the "routine" and the "normalcy" of it all. We might move from angels singing glory to God to simply counting the seconds on a clock. The challenge for us is to find ways to celebrate the presence of God in the ordinary moments of everyday life—through the smile of a friend, the sharing of a meal, or the beauty of good music. Here’s a challenge: Keep the crèche up, or at least a part of it—perhaps a shepherd—to remind us throughout the year of God’s breaking into the ordinary and our invitation to live a radical gospel.