Maybe that’s why they didn’t notice the wind suddenly stop. Suddenly, a star to the east flared brightly. The youngest shepherd saw it first, and grabbed his brother’s robe to get his attention and point his eyes toward the sight. There was just a few moments’ pause, and then-- it was if dawn had sliced the sky in two, and they were blinded as light poured down upon them, the stars vanishing instantly.
The eldest shepherd’s body seemed to hum and vibrate as a great wall of sound buffeted like a storm around them, vibrating like the string of the harp still slung over his back. The song that he heard was a new song, and the entire earth and sky around them seems to be joining in the harmony. They heard the thunderous booms and crashings of the sea, even though the sea was miles away to the east. The scrub grass and wildflowers that moments before had been shrugging against the wind now arrowed upward as if they were being tugged from the earth by an invisible hand. It was a song of indescribable beauty and also a physical weight against his shoulders, and his knees buckled. A flickering, dancing figure, even brighter than the brightness that had burst down, appeared before his dazed eyes, and sang to them, telling them not to be afraid.
Not be afraid? Of course, they were terrified, for who can look upon God and live?
But the Messenger repeated again her reassurance. She told the shepherds then that she bore good news of the birth of a child in a town nearby, Bethlehem. The Messenger told them what they would see there without ever actually telling them to go, and each word from her mouth was like a trumpet blast, yet sweeter than honey.
The one who was born would bear numerous names and titles: Wondrous Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Peace, not like the peace that comes from silencing the oppressed, but a peace that comes from making no accommodation to injustice, peace that calls for acting with honor and integrity to bring justice and mercy to all.
While they were still taking all of that in, an entire throne of angels descended, singing glory to the Holy One, who had granted the shepherds favor and honor indeed. And the music poured over them like honey from the comb, and their rampaging hearts raced with wonder.
Then it was over. The angels and the choir receded back into heaven, and the darkness descended again, darker than dark as their eyes were still dazzled. Slowly, the stars winked back to life again. Almost shyly, the wind resumed its soft susurration among the rocks. The sheep grazed on.
The angelic choir still echoed in their ears, there among the rocks.
Yet peace like a warm cloak settled over them, and they knew the direction of the town and the direction of the star and the direction the Messenger had given them.
And so, they were drawn toward Bethlehem, to see a king in a cattle-stall; a messiah in a manger. They braced themselves for another great wave of light and music, but as they stepped down into the stall the star hovered over, there was no tidal wave of sound. There was no blinding flash of light. There was something infinitely more tender and precious, humble, dressed not in fine robes but wrapped lovingly in strips of rags.
And yet, something no less powerful poured over them as they beheld the young family and it intensified when the baby opened his eyes as dark as obsidian: the baby looked at them, and they felt their souls give a leap. In a stable in a tiny little town, they encountered Love in human form, delicate and new and yet ancient as the stones in the tower where they watched their sheep.
As the beasts of burden ranged around them and the holy family, they saw, breathed, and felt love. Love that lay in a manger to invite the entire world to gather in grace and gratitude and be fed with the very Word of God.
Tonight, we join them in witnessing saw Love in human form come down at Christmas, and the world has never been the same. At the sight of that small head and tuft of hair, they felt all fear and foreboding leave them. In its place, awe, wonder and joy lodged beneath their rib cages, and hope took root and began to grow.
With the birth of this little child, a new day was proclaimed—a day that drew together earth and sky, sea and land, and reminded us all that creation is a seamless whole. We are reminded that the power of God comes not in cataclysms or earthquakes but comes into our lives as a small helpless infant.
It is good that this is a story we tell and remember every year. It is good, because every time we hear this story, we get another chance to say yes, like Mary said yes and Joseph said yes and even those shepherds said yes to being drawn into the presence of God’s love in human form.
May we all be drawn there, too. Drawn toward the Love that turned and slept in his mother’s arms. Love that offers us everything and demands from us everything in return. Love that stands against principalities and powers.
Love that moves among us still, and calls us home, not only for ourselves, but to work to become home that reflects the Beloved Community Jesus was sent to gather in his life and death, and embody in his resurrection. For those of us who claim the name of Christ, we are called to follow those shepherds to go, to see, and to walk away transformed into a haven and a refuge for all those who stand in darkness and hunger for a light of which they’ve only dreamed. A love which declares everyone and everything beloved and set apart consecrated to leading others to light not through fear or division, but through belonging and radical welcome. A love that seeks to live among us, tonight and every night.
Amen.
Preached at the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day services at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO, December 24-25, 2025.
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