Luke 2:8-14
We have been following the angels this Advent, and now that we’ve come to the last of our four Sundays, we’ve found angels in abundance. We asked the Wednesday Kids to draw as many angels, of all sizes and shapes, as they could fit into our sanctuary windows, and they did an excellent job of surrounding us. In the process we asked ourselves, “If a lot of geese is a gaggle, what is a lot of angels?” Google didn’t disappoint when it told us what we have is a heavenly host!
The angels have been bringing us messages this month about how God is moving in our lives and where we might expect to see holiness. Often angels show up when humans are in trouble. Abraham had run out of good grazing land for his flocks. Joseph feared he had been betrayed by his fiancé. Mary was pregnant, a life-threatening condition in many ways. Today we’re hanging out with shepherds. Men who lived with smelly, stupid sheep. Men whose livelihood depended on keeping these sheep together, protected, fed and watered They got no respect for it. These shepherds and their sheep lived on the edge of the village and on the edge of the Empire. They were subsistence farmers. The world around them was full of soldiers and tax collectors and peasants trying not to starve to death or to be arrested into slavery. They were not going to make anyone’s list of up-and-coming entrepreneurs. They kept their heads down, did their job, and stayed away from trouble.
These are not the kind of men expecting to see a sky full of angels, cavorting as only angels do. Many years ago I came across a favorite Christmas poem written about how excited the angels were when Jesus was born. God was entering into Life in a new and amazing way. A baby born while his parents were traveling, cradled in the barn on the hay, was going to change the world. The angels were beside themselves with joy, whirling and tumbling across the sky, singing at the top of their lungs, when they noticed how their celebration had terrified certain “shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.” So shrugging their shoulders, they paused in midair, having no choice but to come near and assure them: fear not. It was almost an afterthought. Since they had been noticed, they had to let the shepherds in on the story. They had to share the good news causing angels to cavort. The Savior has come. The baby is born. These were not the men you would invite to your first-born’s coming out party, but invited they were. They shrugged their shoulders and said, “We might as well go see.” And what they found changed their lives. A baby. Young parents. A dream of Empire overturned. The conviction that God has come near. God is changing the world and you get to be a part of it.
Here's a miracle story for today. God is changing the world and we get to be a part of it. We are the wrong people to hear this good news, but here we are. No more likely to be world-changers than a bunch of smelly shepherds wondering whether or not to believe their eyes. We’re still dealing with Empire promoting violence, grabbing wealth, making life hard for the least important. We’re still wondering if there’s any reason to hope. We’re still putting bandaids on the wounds of the world when tourniquets are needed. Paying back rent. Calling to complain to legislators who ignore us. Standing on a street corner for an hour or two. It all makes me feel a lot like a shepherd who accidentally came to the wrong party.
Here's what the angels said, and keep on saying, “Fear not.” Of course there is every reason to be afraid. Of course we are powerless in the face of massive systems sweeping across the globe. Of course we have no way of telling how any part of life is going to turn out and if any of what we do will matter.
But then, just when we’re not paying attention except to try to get the sheep of our lives more or less gathered up for a few minutes of rest, we think we see an angel, out of the corner of our eye. We hold a newborn. We pay a $20 bill that gives a stranger hope. We hear the angelic voices of children singing their hearts out. And the world shifts on its axis. Maybe there is something more. Maybe this “God is love” stuff is real. Maybe there are tiny miracles waiting for us to trip over them. A new treatment for illness. A different way of seeing immigrants as friends. A politician with a bright idea.
This is what I want to believe is true:
God is with us.
Love is the fabric of the universe.
We can come together, help and respect each other..
There is light in the darkness.
There are plenty of reasons to be afraid, but we can still live without fear.
This is the beginning of the church year, when we start again, one more time, and we are reminded – the world can be made new. There is reason for hope. The light will come among us and shine through us.
If you ask me why I know this, I will tell you: an angel told me. Sometimes, that angel is you.