OK, here’s the deal. I barely have time to breathe this weekend. It is the last weekend before Christmas and we seem to have put all our eggs in this basket. Once I wade my way through this bible study and get it sent to all the waiting masses (that’s you), I have to finish preparing a narration to the Music department’s Christmas Spectacular, which begins at 3:30pm, and then is followed by a chili supper fund raiser for the Youth Music trip to Kentucky this summer. Once that is consumed, it is back here to complete preparations for the Fourth Sunday of Advent Services here at Aldersgate Community United Methodist Church.
Once those services are over (in the can, as they say in the biz) then I hightail it to the Finance Committee meeting which is trying to finalize the church budget for 2012. Then it is home to prepare to help Ellen Rhoades, our Parish Visitor and Senior Adult Coordinator lead a “Blue Christmas” worship service for those who are struggling this season because of loss. Then it is back home to help host the Youth Christmas Party at our home. I think my job will be to keep the crazy dogs from actually eating anyone. (Just kidding, youth! They won’t eat you. Come on to my house!!) Which also means that somewhere in the midst of this I ought to be doing my part to help clean up the house in preparation for company. (And figure out where to hang a pinata - really? A Christmas pinata, Amanda? Hmmm, too bad the ice is gone from the pond.)
Now, I suspect that many of you are thinking “that’s nothing, look at this list!” And you can pull out your own schedule of craziness. I know I’m not the only one who has too many things to do this season - although it sometimes seems like it! “Nobody knows the troubles I see.” But I’m not the first to put too much on his plate at this time of year. You’ve got a schedule that makes you shake your head, don’t you? Well, if you don’t, I can always look back at the shepherds.
I know, we are used to thinking that they were lazy, relaxing in the fields, dozing and drinking, time on their hands. We aren’t the first to think that of them. That’s why they were considered unclean. They were rough characters, kept from proper worship and proper interactions with the “good people.” When Luke tells us that the people were “amazed at what the shepherds had told them” we rightly think about the wonder of the story itself. But the added ingredient to their amazement was the source of the story. It was the shepherds who told this story. The shepherds who, according to them anyway, got a voicemail from God. No, a direct message, better than a telegram, a visitation. A manifestation. An angel, a whole host of them, singing and dancing in the heavens, about a baby in a manager. Uh-huh. Just what did they keep in those leather flasks all night long anyway?
I’m sure that is what went through the minds of at least some of those hearing this tale. These are shepherds after all. But what if we’ve been a bit unfair to the shepherds? I read a commentator some years ago who said that we ought to see the shepherds as small business owners. They were hardly the only occupation who had to deal with ritual uncleanness, those rules were almost impossible to keep. Certainly there were some in the business who were disreputable characters, but what business doesn’t have their share of disrepute?
Maybe the issue was they were busy. Luke doesn’t say they were lazing about in the field. He says they were keeping watch. It was an important job. Someone even speculated once that perhaps this was not an ordinary, run of the mill flock of sheep. That maybe this was a group of the Temple lambs, ones raise spotless, unblemished so that they would be worthy of that sacrifice. It seemed likely that in Luke’s mind at least this was symbolic, that the announcement of the child born to be the perfect sacrifice would be announced with full angelic accompaniment to those who were keeping watch over the sacrificial lambs. Keep watch, says the child grown into a man, for you do not know when the day will come. Maybe he remembered the story as he said that. The story his mom told when he was little and would sit and soak up every word she said. The story about that night after a long trip to Bethlehem. The night when the stars seemed brighter than they do today. The night when a manger was the only refuge from the dark and the cold.
The night when they came, the shepherds, bringing with them the smells of the animals in their care. And how they told anyone and everyone who would listen what had happened to them. How they were keeping watch, doing their job, worrying about the predators and the hazards out there in the darkness. Worrying about how they were going to get the sick ones to eat, and the angry ones to live in peace. Worrying about the fluctuations in the price of temple lambs, how they used to make a good living but now were just getting by. Worrying about how long it was going to be until their next day off, when they could go and see their families, and wash the smell of sheep off of them for a little while at least. When they could pretend to be just like everyone else.
And then the sky exploded. They thought their hearts would stop beating in their chests. They thought it was the end of the world. They thought they would never hold their little babies, or kiss their wives, or laugh with family ever again. They thought all their mistakes were coming back to trip them up, all their failings, all their doubts and brokenness, they thought what the villagers thought of them was going to be their legacy. They thought they were doomed to disappear into the dark like all the others they tell ghost stories about around the fire in the middle of the night, when they are trying to keep one another away because the wolves are prowling.
As quickly as all these thoughts raced through their minds, came another, fast on its heels. Fear not. The voice spoke in their heads without having to go through their ears somehow. Good news. They heard or felt, or just somehow knew. To you is born a savior. To you, us? They thought. Surely not, maybe the “good” people in town. Maybe the priests and leaders, the rich and powerful, they thought. A sign to you, a babe wrapped in cloth, lying in a manger. Now mangers they understood. Mangers were their business, their language. Mangers and saviors seemed to make some odd kind of sense to shepherds.
Then the song began, and glorious one it was. It brought tears to the eyes of these rough and burly men used to the hazards of the wilderness. It made their hearts light, their minds rest, their hope soar. It was glorious. When it ended they didn’t dare to breathe for a long moment. When they did they looked at one another, hoping they weren’t the only ones to hear this message. But they could tell by the look on each face that it was real, and it was theirs. Let us make haste they said. They made room in their busy schedule, they made their way, breathless and hopeful, like Moses and the bush, they turned aside to see.
What are you keeping watch over? What will you make room for?
Luke 2:1-20 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. 8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14 "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!" 15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
Once those services are over (in the can, as they say in the biz) then I hightail it to the Finance Committee meeting which is trying to finalize the church budget for 2012. Then it is home to prepare to help Ellen Rhoades, our Parish Visitor and Senior Adult Coordinator lead a “Blue Christmas” worship service for those who are struggling this season because of loss. Then it is back home to help host the Youth Christmas Party at our home. I think my job will be to keep the crazy dogs from actually eating anyone. (Just kidding, youth! They won’t eat you. Come on to my house!!) Which also means that somewhere in the midst of this I ought to be doing my part to help clean up the house in preparation for company. (And figure out where to hang a pinata - really? A Christmas pinata, Amanda? Hmmm, too bad the ice is gone from the pond.)
Now, I suspect that many of you are thinking “that’s nothing, look at this list!” And you can pull out your own schedule of craziness. I know I’m not the only one who has too many things to do this season - although it sometimes seems like it! “Nobody knows the troubles I see.” But I’m not the first to put too much on his plate at this time of year. You’ve got a schedule that makes you shake your head, don’t you? Well, if you don’t, I can always look back at the shepherds.
I know, we are used to thinking that they were lazy, relaxing in the fields, dozing and drinking, time on their hands. We aren’t the first to think that of them. That’s why they were considered unclean. They were rough characters, kept from proper worship and proper interactions with the “good people.” When Luke tells us that the people were “amazed at what the shepherds had told them” we rightly think about the wonder of the story itself. But the added ingredient to their amazement was the source of the story. It was the shepherds who told this story. The shepherds who, according to them anyway, got a voicemail from God. No, a direct message, better than a telegram, a visitation. A manifestation. An angel, a whole host of them, singing and dancing in the heavens, about a baby in a manager. Uh-huh. Just what did they keep in those leather flasks all night long anyway?
I’m sure that is what went through the minds of at least some of those hearing this tale. These are shepherds after all. But what if we’ve been a bit unfair to the shepherds? I read a commentator some years ago who said that we ought to see the shepherds as small business owners. They were hardly the only occupation who had to deal with ritual uncleanness, those rules were almost impossible to keep. Certainly there were some in the business who were disreputable characters, but what business doesn’t have their share of disrepute?
Maybe the issue was they were busy. Luke doesn’t say they were lazing about in the field. He says they were keeping watch. It was an important job. Someone even speculated once that perhaps this was not an ordinary, run of the mill flock of sheep. That maybe this was a group of the Temple lambs, ones raise spotless, unblemished so that they would be worthy of that sacrifice. It seemed likely that in Luke’s mind at least this was symbolic, that the announcement of the child born to be the perfect sacrifice would be announced with full angelic accompaniment to those who were keeping watch over the sacrificial lambs. Keep watch, says the child grown into a man, for you do not know when the day will come. Maybe he remembered the story as he said that. The story his mom told when he was little and would sit and soak up every word she said. The story about that night after a long trip to Bethlehem. The night when the stars seemed brighter than they do today. The night when a manger was the only refuge from the dark and the cold.
The night when they came, the shepherds, bringing with them the smells of the animals in their care. And how they told anyone and everyone who would listen what had happened to them. How they were keeping watch, doing their job, worrying about the predators and the hazards out there in the darkness. Worrying about how they were going to get the sick ones to eat, and the angry ones to live in peace. Worrying about the fluctuations in the price of temple lambs, how they used to make a good living but now were just getting by. Worrying about how long it was going to be until their next day off, when they could go and see their families, and wash the smell of sheep off of them for a little while at least. When they could pretend to be just like everyone else.
And then the sky exploded. They thought their hearts would stop beating in their chests. They thought it was the end of the world. They thought they would never hold their little babies, or kiss their wives, or laugh with family ever again. They thought all their mistakes were coming back to trip them up, all their failings, all their doubts and brokenness, they thought what the villagers thought of them was going to be their legacy. They thought they were doomed to disappear into the dark like all the others they tell ghost stories about around the fire in the middle of the night, when they are trying to keep one another away because the wolves are prowling.
As quickly as all these thoughts raced through their minds, came another, fast on its heels. Fear not. The voice spoke in their heads without having to go through their ears somehow. Good news. They heard or felt, or just somehow knew. To you is born a savior. To you, us? They thought. Surely not, maybe the “good” people in town. Maybe the priests and leaders, the rich and powerful, they thought. A sign to you, a babe wrapped in cloth, lying in a manger. Now mangers they understood. Mangers were their business, their language. Mangers and saviors seemed to make some odd kind of sense to shepherds.
Then the song began, and glorious one it was. It brought tears to the eyes of these rough and burly men used to the hazards of the wilderness. It made their hearts light, their minds rest, their hope soar. It was glorious. When it ended they didn’t dare to breathe for a long moment. When they did they looked at one another, hoping they weren’t the only ones to hear this message. But they could tell by the look on each face that it was real, and it was theirs. Let us make haste they said. They made room in their busy schedule, they made their way, breathless and hopeful, like Moses and the bush, they turned aside to see.
What are you keeping watch over? What will you make room for?
Luke 2:1-20 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. 8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14 "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!" 15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
Shalom,
Derek
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