Pastors are often warned, before they leave the seminary, not to say certain things in the pulpit. One of those things is this: “Never say to your congregation, ‘Of course we all know the Bible story of [fill in the blank].’ ”
Why shouldn’t a pastor say that during a sermon? The reason is that, in our day fewer and fewer people actually know what’s in the Bible. They don’t recognize the stories. The preacher needs to tell the story first, as if it’s a brand new one.
Pastors are taught something else in seminary as well. It is this: “On certain occasions, including Christmas Eve and Easter morning, you will have large congregations full of visitors, many of whom will not have been at worship for months, if at all. Don’t waste the opportunity to share something with them that could possibly change their lives for the better.”
Both of the things I just mentioned come into play tonight. As to the second thing pastors are to be careful about, some of us at worship right now have not been here for a while. Perhaps some of us are at worship for the first time. So this would not be a good time to waste a message that could be life-changing for some of you.
As to the first thing pastors are asked to avoid, for once we’re faced with an exception to the rule. As it turns out, this may be one of the few times when it is safe to assume that everyone in this room actually knows the Bible story on which tonight’s message is based. The story of shepherds in a field outside Bethlehem, encountering angels and hurrying into town to find a stable and a manger and a brand new baby, may be the most familiar Bible story of all time.
Why is that? It’s because it’s the story line for annual Christmas pageants, staged by children for their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and other friends of the family. Some of you in the congregation tonight may actually have worn a bathrobe, pretending to be a shepherd, once or twice in your youth.
So, in violation of the rule set by countless seminary professors, it’s probably safe to say it to you tonight: “We all know this story very well. We know it so well, we are in danger of missing the real message.”
What is the real message in the story of the shepherds, watching over their flocks in the fields out beyond Bethlehem? There is no clear agreement about it. Here, however, is one of the themes that it seems certain Luke, the writer of this story, wants us to hear.
The story of Jesus’ birth and ministry and murder and reappearance to his followers represents an extraordinary series of events. The meaning of Jesus is the meaning of God for our lives. And whoever wrote the gospel of Luke is worried about something. He’s concerned that people will become aware of Jesus but miss what he means. People may even have an encounter with Jesus and not understand why Jesus matters.
The shepherds in this story got the message. Something extraordinary was beginning with the birth of Jesus, and Luke tells us that the shepherds got the message. You might be tempted to say, “Well, sure, but they had an advantage. There were angels helping them figure it out.” That may not be a very convincing argument. If you or I were poverty-stricken and uneducated, low-life and dirty, as shepherds typically were in first-century Palestine, the appearance of angels overhead might have caused one of at least two results.
These fellows may have concluded they were hallucinating. That would not have led them to go into town. It might have convinced them to run for cover.
Or, the shepherds may have concluded the angels were the real deal, leading them to the same conclusion — that the smart thing to do would be to run for their lives. Evidently Luke inserted the detail that the angels told the shepherds not to be afraid, for exactly that reason.
In other words, seeing angels overhead would not have made it any easier for the shepherds to believe there was something extraordinary going on. But that’s not Luke’s point. The writer wants to say that some unexceptional people — the shepherds — got the message, and didn’t miss out on the importance of who Jesus is — even while hardly anybody else did.
Where were the townspeople in Bethlehem, according to this story? Luke would tell us that they wouldn’t have been interested. Where was the mayor? Where was the welcoming committee? Well, actually, that’s who the shepherds became.
What is the real point of this story? Why do you need shepherds in this story in the first place? Here’s why: The shepherds are symbolic of people who don’t matter very much. Keep in mind that Luke wrote his story of Jesus after he knew the ending. Jesus had been betrayed, murdered, and returned to the presence of his followers. From that perspective, Luke backs up and tells the beginning of the story.
Hardly any credible Bible scholar believes that anybody, including Luke, really knew anything factual about Jesus’ birth. Only Luke and Matthew try to imagine what really happened, and they don’t agree. Matthew says Jesus’ home town was Bethlehem. Luke says it was Nazareth.
So we’re not dealing with history here. This is a story about who Jesus is and what Jesus means for people — including people like us. Luke knows what kind of people first decided to follow Jesus. He knew what they were like because he had met a lot of them. And, before long, those first believers wanted to know about Jesus’ birth. It may seem troubling to us, but what Luke seems to have done was to give people what they were asking for. He may have decided, “We don’t have a story about Jesus’ birth, so I’ll write one.”
And when he did it, Luke decided that the people who ended up taking Jesus’ birth seriously would have been the ones who took the adult Jesus seriously. They were not the ones you’d put on a list of the movers and shakers, the ones with influence. Luke gives us shepherds — outsiders, poor people, the disenfranchised, people who probably could use a bath but don’t have access to a nice warm shower.
The ordinary people who responded to Jesus knew one thing for certain. Jesus matters. The meaning of his life is the meaning of God for our own lives. It’s a life that changes lives, when people catch on to what he said and did and promised — not only for marginalized people, but for anybody who will pay attention. The shepherds paid attention. Something extraordinary began when Jesus arrived in our midst. Everybody could have missed it. Many people did. But some didn’t. Ordinary people caught on. Servants did. Slaves did. Women, who had no rights in the first century, frequently did.
That’s who the shepherds represent. And as the gospel of Luke unfolds, there are many others just like them — people with no options, no rights, no money, very little food, hardly any hope. When they encountered Jesus, it changed their lives.
Tonight we have an opportunity to encounter Jesus — the adult Jesus, the no-longer-in-the-manger Jesus, the life-changing Jesus.
In our imagination right now, on this special, rather enchanting night, Jesus is lying in a manger. But that isn’t where he stays. He grows up. He shows us how our lives can change, entirely for the better. He brings a message of promise and hope.
Rejoice and be glad!