Waiting with the Shepherds Isaiah 9:2-4, 6-7, Psalm 96, Titus 2:11-14, Luke 2:1-20 Christmas Eve, December 24, 2003, 11:00 p.m. Service The Rev. William V. Livingston, Rector Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi "In that region there were shepherds living in the fields. . ." We must shake free of some of our Hallmark card images of shepherds minding their flock. Instead of a nice little pastoral scene, first century shepherds were the unwashed, unscrupulous. People locked their doors when they came into town. At the bottom of the of the social hierarchy - perhaps comparable to today's illegal immigrant day laborers - they were marginal folk, eking out a living off the land. For some, it was the only job they could find; others chose this life of isolation and living in the dark. But the angels chose them to be the first witnesses of God being born into the world. For this evening to really make sense, we must first recognize that with God, things are not as they ought to be. Some of the least in society proclaim a mystery that is about to transform the lives of millions. The lowliest among us declare a name upon which empires will rise and fall and the labors of a hundred generations will honor. "Do not be afraid!" begins the angel. Yeah, right! Have you ever noticed that almost every biblical appearance of an angel always begins with "Do not be afraid!" It's like on the TV show Touched by an Angel. Every time Monica turns that weird yellowish-pink color, meaning that she's about to reveal some profound awareness, she always begins with "Do not be afraid!" For those today who come into the presence of the Holy, there still needs to be the greeting "Do not be afraid!" Yes, when we are hurting, and we experience the comfort of the Holy Spirit, there may be no such fear. However, when we allow God's presence to break through our darkness, when we allow God to shatter the image of the God we have created for ourselves, when we allow God's angel in whatever form he/she/it may come to tell us we've got it all wrong and things are about to turn upside down, then fear is the natural response. And what is this terrifying message the angels bring? On this day, the Messiah has come. The fact that the long-awaited Messiah had come was a monumental proclamation. But no, he had not come as expected, he had not come with his mighty army, his aircraft carriers, his fighter jets, his missiles, and his tanks. Even more significant in the angel's message is that he had come as the humblest among us. He is not some distant ruler or uncaring divine manifestation of a transcendent god. He is one of us. The shepherds can find the child by two signs. They will find him in swaddling clothes - symbols of his culture. These bands of cloth were used to shape the child physically. Being one of us, he was shaped by his culture, the same as are we. They will find him lying in a manger because there is no room for him. The long-awaited Messiah has come but because he does not come as expected, there is no room for him in the inn. There's no room in Rome, so go to Israel. There's not room in Israel, so go to Nazareth. There's not room in Nazareth, so go to Bethlehem. There's no room in the inn, so go out to the shed where the animals are. The Messiah is always the one left out. Once they overcame their fear, the shepherds had to see this incredible thing, the Messiah who has come, but not only come, but come among us in the lowliest of conditions, in a manger because the world had not made room for the one it had so long awaited. Now they must see for themselves. They run and see the sign they have been promised: a newborn wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manger. When they came to see the Christ child, Mary might have been a little concerned with their unkempt appearance, their earthy lives, and their nomadic subsistence. They must have smelled of sheep and the toil of many days and nights. But when hearing their account of the angels, Mary pondered these things in her heart - in her heart, not in her head. The ways of God will never make sense intellectually. Luke does not tell us how long they stayed there looking in wonder. However, at some point, the shepherds returned to tending their sheep, sleeping on the hard ground, still looked down upon by their societal hierarchy. Nothing had changed. But actually everything had changed. They had allowed the darkness of their night to be broken; they had allowed their preconceptions of God to be shattered; they had risked venturing to the manger, allowing their lives to be transformed, and all who heard it were amazed. Can we let go of our Christmas carol fantasies of shepherds, can we admit that we, too, may be in our isolated fields? For some of us, it will be hard, for others, we cannot imagine not being in the darkness of night - those dark nights of the soul, which, when we are in them, seem will never end. Some of us are quite content with our predictable God we have neatly put in a box, pulling out only for our prayer requests, but otherwise not interfering with our lives. Some of us wonder if God really exist. For some God is irrelevant. For others we know what it is like to look for God and find no response. So, in our imposed or chosen darkness we keep watch in the field - sitting in our office cubicle, teaching a class, caring for a patient, waiting on a customer, preparing dinner. We, Shepherds, have wandered looking but never further than our sheep. The field ahead but not the hills beyond were our only thought. We've never encountered God and don't expect to, or we know it has been a long time since we have seen God, only experiencing occasional glimpses of God's nearness but most often trudging through life waiting, disappointed, distracted, disconnected, knowing we need directions but refusing or afraid to ask. The idea of an angel shattering this darkness can be frightening. Just ask the shepherds. People like us don't expect that the heavens will open to reveal the ways of God. We go through our daily lives and once in a while we may get an insight or a direction. But to have angels announcing the birth of a child in a manger makes no sense. Life doesn't work that way. God doesn't work that way. Yes, God does work that way. You see, with or without our knowledge, God has drawn each us here this evening. The Christmas story, and all that goes with it, continues to draw us; it continues to have a strange, haunting power over us. And that power is not just nostalgic; it is not even mostly nostalgic. As important as Christmases past have been - both that first Christmas in Bethlehem and our own personal histories around this hour - that is not what draws us most compellingly. What draws us most compellingly is hope: hope for this present Christmas, and hope for the future. And the good news of Christmas for the shepherds and for us is that it can keep happening, and it does keep happening. God has not deserted us; God has not left us alone. God still comes to us and is still trying to reach us, and our world, pretty much as God tried that first Christmas. Things haven't really changed much. The hopes and fears of all the years are about the same now as they have always been. Life is more comfortable for some, less so for others, maybe more complicated for most. And still, God reaches out to us - pretty much as God reached out on that first Christmas. The shepherds returned to their flocks. We will return to our homes. Tomorrow we will have Christmas dinner and open gifts. Some of us will already be preparing to return to work. We are tempted to return as quickly as possible back to the normality of our daily routines; to start up the old wheels of our schedules following the holidays; to get caught up again in the everydayness and tangible realities of our lives. Once again, we can go to the manger and miss the whole purpose of the moment. It would be easy, even with all our years of knowledge, or perhaps because of all our years of knowledge, to miss the simplicity and yet profound depth of what is in front of us. We can get lost in the cuteness of a new baby or distracted by the things we add to the manger scene. All we have, as we stand with the shepherds, are a mother, a father, a baby and a manger. When we leave it at that, we can see and know that this is something special. The hosts of heaven have brought us to know of this time and place. They have proclaimed his birth and invited us to embrace this mystery of the Christ and let its mystery break us out of our set ways of thinking and being. It's yet another opportunity for us to enter into the incomprehensible mind of God and, with it, search for new meaning and direction as a people on a journey.