Luke 2:8-18
Why were the shepherds afraid? What was it that they thought they saw? These may sound like stupid questions, but I’m not so sure. There was a belief at that time that the spirits of the dead hovered around for a time after their death. These spirits were called shades. The shades of the dead had the power to inflict harm on living human beings, especially if the shade was a neglected or abused family member. Or, if the shade was of someone who was not given the last rites of a proper burial, they would stick around for a time and be generally obnoxious to living family members and friends. Did the shepherds think they were seeing the shade of some deceased family member, come back to disturb them, and that’s why they were afraid?
Or, did the shepherds think they had come face-to-face with God? If they were faithful Jews (which shepherds usually weren’t), they would have known that no one can look upon the face of God and live. At least, that’s what God told Moses. Is that why they were afraid, because they thought they were seeing God, and were about to lose their lives because they dared look?
Or, did they really know they were being visited by an angel? The suddenness of it all just caught them off guard? It had to be a startling experience, to see whatever it was they thought they were seeing. It was dark. All of a sudden they were surrounded by bright light. Singing voices. And a mysterious message about a Savior baby being born. Would it be the unexpected appearing of the angel that was most shocking to those shepherds on the hillside that night? That kind of dramatic suddenness certainly could be very unsettling.
It’s kind of like the story about the guy who was walking through the cemetery one night. He fell into an open grave. Try as he may, he couldn’t get out. He just sat down in a dark corner of the hole waiting for morning when the workmen would come back and get him out. Well, lo and behold, another guy came along and fell in the same hole. He also tried, unsuccessfully, to get out. From a dark corner of the grave came a voice, “You’ll never get out of here.” But he did.
I would assume that it was that same kind of fright that the shepherds must have been feeling at such an unexpected appearance.
II
“Fear not.” As I mentioned at the outset of this series, time and time again that message had to be spoken to disciples with shaking knees. When Jesus came walking across the water, the disciples thought they were seeing a ghost. Jesus said to them, “Don’t be afraid.”
When the women came to the tomb where Jesus was laid and found an angel there, they were told, “Fear not.” Evidently that didn’t help much because they eventually met the Risen Lord, and he told them the same thing, “Do not be afraid.”
And right after the time when Jesus’ appearance was changed in the Transfiguration on the mountain top, and he met with Elijah and Moses in that shower of light, Jesus had to come to his disciples, who were praying for their lives, and tell them not to fear.
Isn’t it a strange twist that at the most mysteriously holy events, when God makes himself present and visible in such intentional ways, without any attempt at concealment, the singular reaction is fear? It must be a characteristic of our humanness that we have become afraid of heavenly messengers.
“Fear not: Good News!” In the Scriptures, Good News always meets fear. The problem is we concentrate too much on the fear, and miss the Good News. We understand the fear part, all too well. A teacher in Harlem thought it might be a good idea to take his city kids out to the country for a weekend at camp. One of the first activities they organized was a baseball game.
But nobody wanted to play in the outfield. The teacher found out the reason: The outfield butted up to the edge of the woods where all sorts of assumed danger waited to pounce on the children. So the teacher put two kids in each position in the outfield. One was to play the position; the other was to watch the woods. And the game went on.
When the disciples saw Jesus walking on the water, he followed his “fear not,” with the Good News, “It is I.” When the women were met by the angles at the empty tomb, their “fear not,” was followed by the Good News, “He is risen!” And to the startled shepherds watching their flocks, the angel’s “Fear not,” was followed with the Good News that “...a Savior has come!”
III
Notice that the Good News of the angel to the shepherds has a double emphasis. The angel first told them, “I am bringing you good news...” The angel first singles out the shepherds as the recipients of the Good News. Here is the personal approach of God’s Good News. It is not, first, just some mass dose, generic Good News, splashed across the internet for anyone to read. Instead, the Good News comes to individuals, fitting their own special needs and the place they are in.
(pause) Her small voice penetrated the stillness of the night. It came from the bedroom across the hall: “Daddy, I’m scared.”
Out of his groggy, fuzzy sleep state, the father responds, “Honey, don’t be afraid; Daddy’s right across the hall.”
After a brief pause her little voice is heard again, “I’m still scared.”
Always with a quick insight, the father responds, “You don’t need to be afraid--God is with you.”
This time the pause was longer, but the voice returns, “I don’t care about God, Daddy; I want someone with skin.”
The Good News, spoken first particularly to the shepherds is that God has come as someone with skin--an ordinary person--so that, as the person Jesus, he knows where we have needs, touching our fears and loneliness with compassion. Good News! The Savior has come--just for you! “I’m bring YOU Good News...” says the angel.
But that’s not all. The Good News doesn’t come and end just with the shepherds. The second emphasis of the angel’s message is that the Good News will also be “...to all the people.” The Good News has to start somewhere, with someone. The little group of shepherds were the beginning point from which the Good News is then broadcasted outward like seed upon the land.
In his book, Lord Of All Life, Ian Burnett tells that James the Fifth of Scotland would, on occasion, lay aside the royal robe of being king and put on the simple clothes of a peasant. In such a disguise he was able to move freely throughout the people, making friends with ordinary folks, entering in their particular difficulties, appreciating their handicaps, sympathizing with them in their sorrows. When he returned to be king again, sitting upon the throne, he was better able to rule with compassion and mercy to all the people.
The second emphasis of the angel’s message of Good News is that God has sent an everyday king to deal with the fear of all people, in all places and at all times. His work of being King is not only for us individually, but will also affect the whole world. As God in the flesh first touches the lives of a small number of people, so those who have been touched by him will also pass on that touch to others.
To hear and respond to the “Fear Not: Good News!” of the angel’s message means also responding to a mandate that shines through that Good News. The Good News is a beacon light to:
...care about human problems that most people ignore.
...speak up for the downtrodden who are powerless to speak for themselves.
...call for forgiveness and compassion when others call for blood.
...give of ourselves without asking, “What’s in it for me?”
...be loyal to the Good News of God when others have sold out to the idols, flim-flam, and narcissism of our present day world.
The Good News of the coming Savior must cause us to do something. To react in some way. Otherwise it can never be Good. It can only be News. Had the shepherds reacted with ho-hum indifference to the message of the angel--which was a choice available to them--all the wonder, excitement, and joy that has become part of Christmas would have been lost.
In the early 1900’s, Alexander Woolcott described a scene he had witnessed in a New York hospital. It was around Christmas time. A grief-stricken mother was sitting in the hospital lounge in stunned silence, tears streaming down her face. She had just lost her only child in the flu epidemic that was searing its way across our country. She was gazing blindly into nowhere while the head nurse was trying desperately to console her. The nurse was not making much of an impact until she saw someone who might help.
“Mrs. Norris, did you notice the shabby little boy cooling his heals in the hall next to your daughter’s room?” asked the nurse.
No, Mrs. Norris hadn’t noticed him.
“There...” continued the nurse, “...there is a case. That little boy’s mother is a young French woman who was brought in a week ago by ambulance from their run down one-room apartment. They had immigrated scarcely three months ago. They had lost all their family back in France and they knew nobody here. The two had only each other. Every day that boy has sat there in the hopes that she would awaken and speak to him.”
Mrs. Norris was listening now. So the nurse went on. “Twenty minutes ago that little mother died. She dropped off like a pebble in the boundless ocean. Now it is my duty to go out and tell that little fellow that, at the age of seven, he is all alone in the world. That he now has no one and no home.” The head nurse paused, then said, “I don’t suppose...I don’t suppose that you would go out and tell him with me?”
What happened in the next few moments, wrote Alexander Woolcott, was something that you remember forever. Mrs. Norris stood up, dried her tears, went out to the hall, across from the room where her daughter had just died, put her arms around the boy, and led the homeless child off to her childless home. In their sadness and fear, and at a time of each other’s greatest loss, they had become a source of joy and Good News to each other.
Can you imagine such a message--the Good News--being lost on dead ears? Can you imagine such a visitation being lost on bah-humbugness? Can you imagine anyone who would not want to jump to their feet at such a message and start running, telling everyone who was met along the way what the angels said? Can you imagine anyone, who once accepted the Good News, but then refused, in any way, to spread that Good News around?
One time when I went up to San Francisco, when I was living in San Jose, I saw a store-front funeral parlor. Only in San Francisco could you see something like this. The front windows were covered with sun-bleached, beige colored curtains, that were probably some other color at one time. In front of the curtains was a sign that read, “SPECIAL: If you are walking around half dead, we will bury you for half price.” I don’t know how many people took up the offer.
The fact is, the sign described some people very well. There are those whose half-dead side is making decisions for their half-alive side. The Good News is that the dead can be made alive, rather than the the other way around. The Savior has come to bring life, not death. He has come to lift us to our feet, from being kept down and nearly half-dead by our fear for so long.
IV
That is the message of joy. Of infectious joy. Of, as the angel told the shepherds, a message that is “great and joyful.”
Is the angel’s message of Good News really a great joy? Or is it not? If it is not, then maybe we should be afraid, and see no hope in ever being relieved of that fear. If it is not, then maybe we Christians, as Paul once wrote, are most to be pitied. Maybe we should just give in to our tears and walk around half dead, and let that half etch its expression on our half alive faces. If it is not a great joy, then we should just take all the decorations down, and plug our ears to all the singing that’s going on around us. If it is not a truly great joy, then let us forget about any ideas we might have of Jesus being a Savior. Let us forget about the possibility of experiencing God’s Good News and grace. Of ever finding new hope for this life. If the Good News is not really a “great joy,” then nothing is great.
“Fear not: Good News!” The Savior has come! May we find life and “great joy” in this Good News. Let that Good News blaze forth upon us like an angelic starry night, and then radiating, run out to all the world.
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