“The
Shepherds and Angels”
A Sermon Preached by the
Rev. Jean Niven Lenk
Sunday, December 23, 2012
First Congregational Church of Stoughton,
United Church of Christ
Text: Luke 2:8-20
Near the end of
“A Charlie Brown Christmas,” Charlie has become discouraged by the crass
commercialism of the holiday, and he laments, “I guess I don’t really know what
Christmas is about. Isn’t there anyone who
understands what Christmas is all about?”
And little Linus puts down his security blanket, walks to center stage,
and illumined by a spotlight, recites:
“And there were
in the same country Shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their
flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of
the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto
them, ‘fear not, for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which will be to
all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a savior, which
is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you. Ye shall find the babe
wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in the manger.’ And suddenly, there was with
the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, ‘glory to
God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men.’”
And then
picking up his blanket, Linus says, “That’s what Christmas is all about,
Charlie Brown.”
Well, this is
radical stuff! I don’t mean that a
cartoon which is over 42 years old continues to find an audience among the
children and grandchildren of those of us who were there when it first came out
in 1965. I don’t mean that a program
containing unabashedly Christian content has become a holiday classic and can
still find an airing and an audience on network TV in the 21st
century. I don’t even mean the
controversy that sprung up last month when a school in Little Rock, Arkansas,
had to cancel plans to see a performance of the stage version because the
optional, voluntary field trip was seen as violation of the school district’s
policy against promoting or encouraging students to support a particular
religious affiliation.
No, what’s
radical is the message in this passage from Luke’s gospel. But the verses are so familiar to us that it
has lost its shock factor: the shepherds hear an announcement from some angels,
they go find the baby, and then they go back to work. So what’s the big deal?
Well, it’s a very big deal when we look beyond the familiar words and
the beautiful poetry. It’s radical stuff
for sure, but the fact
of the matter is, we’ve heard it so often that we hardly hear it at all any
more, much less understand its significance.
But hear it we must, because the
angels have wonderful, fantastic, utterly joyous news to announce: the
long-awaited messiah has been born! No
more waiting. No more envisioning
something that will occur in the far-off future. No, the Messiah is here, now, in the flesh,
just over the hillside in Bethlehem! For
people in the ancient world, this was totally unexpected and fantastic
news.
But wait, there’s more.
The Messiah is not at all like he is
imagined to be. He’s not a noble
warrior-king sitting astride a great white horse, ready to bring deliverance to
the people. No – get this – he’s a baby,
a newborn, birthed this very night in a stable!
Hold on, it gets better. This Messiah – he’s going to be for ALL the
people. Not just kings and conquerors;
not just for those living in Judea; not just for the religious types who follow
the rules and rituals and laws. No this
Messiah is FOR ALL, FOR EVERYONE.
Oh, and one more thing – the angels
announce this wonderful, fantastic, utterly joyous news to – wait for it –
shepherds! Yes, shepherds – can you
believe it!??!
Now, I know it’s hard for us
sitting here in 2012 to comprehend the surprise and wonder and utterly radical
nature of the angels’ announcement. Familiarity
has turned it into such a sentimental and non-threatening tale that the full
significance of its revolutionary message are practically lost on us.
Take the shepherds, for instance.
We think of brown burlap costumes, headpieces made out of rags and rope,
and staffs fashioned from grandpa’s cane.
Or maybe we think of the pictures of white-robed Jesus tenderly holding
a gentle lamb in his arms. But the
reality was that shepherds in first century Judea were considered the lowliest strata of society. They were
dirty, smelly, uncouth, and unwelcome in polite society. And, because they only rarely could bathe,
much less get in from the fields to attend religious services, they were also
considered ritually unclean sinners and were outcasts not only from society,
but also from the synagogue. They were
marginalized, disempowered, voiceless and unnoticed.
And yet – God
chooses them to be the first recipients of life-altering, history changing,
world transforming news. Think
about that -- the most magnificent message in history is told first to the
least likely of recipients.
This makes no sense at all. Wouldn’t it seem reasonable to first tell
people who were not only faithful and religious, but also well connected and
had some street cred -- people who had studied the coming of the Messiah their
entire lives, who recognized the theological import of the news, and could get
the word out fast to people who would actually listen to them?
Yes, that would make sense—from a human
perspective. But that’s not the way God
works. Instead, God tells the least
likely of recipients because they are the most open to receiving it. Let’s face it – the shepherd’s job was not
valued by society; their physical appearance did not fit into cultural norms;
their lifestyle was disparaged; and they didn’t have the means to wield any
influence. They knew that they would
never receive from the culture a sense of worth and value; that would have to
spring from someplace else.
And the shepherds would both
understand and appreciate on a very personal level what Jesus was coming to do
– to upset the status quo and teach a revolutionary ethic of unconditional love
and forgiveness; to turn the values of the world upside down; to proclaim a
divine Kingdom in which the first would be last and the last first, where the
meek would inherit the earth, where the greatest would be those who took the
role of servants; where tax collectors and sinners – and shepherds -- would be
welcomed into heaven ahead of the righteous and religious. Yes, the shepherds would welcome this
startling new way of living Jesus proclaimed – a way of living in which God
worked through the poor, the lowly, the powerless, and the marginalized –
people just like them.
But as well as announcing the good news of the birth of the Messiah,
the angel has one more thing to say to the shepherds. “This will be a sign for you: You will find a
child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” As momentous as this good news is for the
shepherds, the announcement is not, in itself, enough. An answer, a reaction is needed, and in
response to this message of divine grace, the shepherds “go in haste [to find]
Mary and Joseph and the child lying in the manger.”
And
there they see the babe, just as the angel has said. They see God incarnated and looking like any
other newborn infant. They see -- and
having seen, having witnessed, having experienced, they are forever
changed. And when
they return to the hillsides, they glorify and praise God for all of it. You and I are here this morning, in part,
because those shepherds could not keep their mouths shut about the Good News
that their lives of condemnation and rejection and nobodiness, had been
transformed by God's "Yes."
Jesus will proclaim this kind of radical inclusivity
throughout his Galilean ministry – he’ll call fishermen who will abandon their
nets and boats; he’ll call tax collectors who will leave their lucrative
incomes behind, lepers who’ll risk a crowd, desperate parents with dying
children, a hemorrhaging woman who’ll reach out to touch the hem of his
garment. Every nobody needs good news,
needs to know that they are not beyond the reach of God’s love, and each life
that Jesus touches will be forever transformed.
The Promised One is welcomed first, not by kings
and queens, not by governors and diplomats, not by priests and monks, but by
shepherds. In good time the high and
mighty in Jerusalem, the noble, well educated, powerful and rich will hear the
message and be invited to come and see as well.
But the message is told first to those who most need to hear it, to
those most in need of it.
In our secular culture, the birth of the Messiah and
the angels’ announcements to the shepherds can easily becomes a quaint tale at
the center of a winter holiday that has turned into a commercialized celebration
of family and friends, gift giving and festivities.
But we know it for what it truly is – a
flesh-and-blood demonstration of the world-changing, history-altering,
life-transforming, grace-filled and radically inclusive love of God. In response to this work of holy and divine
grace, let’s become like the shepherds and shout it to the hillsides, glorifying and praising God for all of it! Amen.
