A SHEPHERD’S TALE
Luke 2:8-20
Let me catch my breath. I don’t know whether it’s because I ran the whole way or because I’m still trying to believe what I just saw with my own eyes.
I’m sorry you had to watch over the flocks by night back here in the cave, Ezra. But you did volunteer. You missed it. You didn’t really believe we were seeing angels. You thought it was bad shepherd’s pie.
But it wasn’t, Ezra. They were angels and everything they said was true. For once, I’m glad I’m not responsible and sensible like you. I wouldn’t have missed this for all the gold in the temple.
I don’t know what we were expecting, but this wasn’t it. Yet it was perfect. I know what you’re thing. Deep breath, Asa, slow down. I’m trying to make sense, but it was so wonderful I can hardly talk.
I’m babbling now, aren’t I, Ezra? Don’t roll your eyes at me. Inhale…exhale. Whew! Okay, my heart’s not thumping like a drummer boy’s now anyway.
When we left here, we ran into town. We split up to cover more ground. Joshua and I ran to the high priest’s house. Abel and Levi headed to the rabbi’s. We thought, if a savior is being born, it must be to one of the religious men. No baby to be found. They thought we were crazy. The priest was angry because we woke him.
We couldn’t figure out where to go. Where would we find a savior? We tried the inns around town. I’ve never seen Bethlehem so crowded. People all over the place coming to register for the census. People sleeping in doorways because the inns were filled to the brim. Why can’t the Romans have us be counted in the towns where we live?
Most of the innkeepers wouldn’t even look up when we walked in. Others screamed at us to get out. A couple of them remembered a woman in the family way, but didn’t know where they had gone.
Be patient, Ezra. I’m trying to tell you the whole story…still trying to make sense of it myself.
Can you imagine being a woman near her birthing time trying to find a place to do that? She must not have had family around or she would have gone there. We may only be shepherds, but at least our women have the privacy of a tent…or at least the corner of a sheep pen to have a baby.
The husband must have been beside himself. No family around. Wherever they ended up, he must have been terrified at the thought of helping his wife give birth. I remember what a mess you were, Ezra, when Miriam birthed Asher. You were useless. That’s why a woman needs womenfolk around at a time like that.
When we got to Samuel’s inn, he told us he had felt sorry for them. Plus, if she had a baby right there in the middle of the other travelers, it wouldn’t have been good for business. He sent them out into his cave where the animals are kept.
It must have smelled like it does in this cave, Ezra. We’ll really have to muck it out a little tomorrow. But at least, with all those sheep, donkeys and cows, the place was warm. The man may not have wanted to deliver that baby, but he hade no choice. Hope he had delivered lambs or calves before. Still, the mother must have been grateful for a little quiet and privacy.
We ran to the cave. We were jumpy because of all the Roman soldiers in the street. They looked suspiciously at everyone and I know they hate shepherds…just like everybody else. We sure didn’t want to get beaten or dragged to the tax collector’s office.
When we got to the cave, it was just like the angel said it would be. It was a baby, all wrapped up and sleeping in a big stone feed trough. The baby didn’t look special. He had fingers and toes and a little bit of hair. He didn’t glow or have a halo. While we were there, he woke up hungry and started to cry. The mother looked tired from birthing. The father just looked relieved to have lived through it. Normal. Perfectly normal.
But it can’t be, can it, Ezra? How many babies have you seen who have an angel make the birth announcement with an army of angels behind him singing back-up like they were Gabriel and the Pips? He’s just a baby. A baby in a manger born to a couple of poor travelers in a country occupied by foreign troops. But the angels were right about everything.
As surprised as we were to find them there, the parents looked more startled than us when we burst in. I guess I can’t blame them. A handful of dirty, smelly shepherds panting and sweating from running around town on an angelic scavenger hunt. Just imagine how you would have felt. Nervous? Terrified?
And the angel had told us not to be afraid.
Their eyeballs almost popped out when we told them we were shepherds and that an angel had sent us to find them. I was afraid they’d want to have us committed to a home for deranged shepherds.
But that look only lasted a moment. The mother looked down at the baby. Then a smile came across her lips. She looked at the father. And you know what he did? You’ll never guess. He winked, like they both knew some secret.
Then the father said, “His name is Jesus.”
Ezra, do you realize what that name means? It means the salvation of the Lord. I know. Shut your mouth, Ezra. Think about it, Ezra, the Lord saves. The angels said, “A savior will be born.”
Everything is starting to tie together. Do you see it, Ezra? We saw the savior of the world.
But that wasn’t the best part. After we talked a while, we just stood there not knowing what to do next. The mother smiled at me and asked if I wanted to hold him. That mother offered to let me, some riff-raff shepherd she had never seen before, hold her baby.
I was scared. I’ve never held a newborn human baby. Lambs. Lots of lambs. But never a baby! In a way, though, he was a lamb, a lamb of God.
Ezra, I held the Savior of the world in my arms. I don’t understand it either. It’s crazy impossible. How can a baby be the Messiah? How can that baby be the Messiah? I don’t have any idea how he will save us or what’s going to happen now, but I know in my heart that the angel told us the truth.
I’ve been thinking, too, and I have an idea why the angels told us and nobody else tonight. It’s an incredible, wonderful idea. Everybody looks down on us shepherds. They think we’re scum or stupid, not like ordinary people. Some of them even think we’ll steal them blind and are afraid of us. Nobody wants us near them.
But the angels did come to us, Ezra. We were right there. The angels came. We heard them. We did what they said and we saw the baby.
Maybe our God is not the angry, judging God we’ve always been told about. This God that sent the angels to us is full of surprises. This God must not play favorites. He’s not just for the rich or the powerful or the religious folks. God cares about us nobodies, too.
God is breaking all the rules we’ve been taught. And if God is breaking rules and angels can talk to shepherds, then a baby lying in a manger can be the Messiah and save us all. With God, all things are possible.
But, Ezra, you know what the very best part is for me?
One day, I’ll be telling my grandchildren about the night I sang the Savior of the world a lullaby and rocked him to sleep.