Luke 2: 8-20

Kathy Redpath, pastoral intern

As I walked slowly down the hallway of the hospital where I worked the night shift, I happened to glance into a darkened patient room just in time to see confused, 94-year old Annie trying to get herself out of bed. She already had one leg up and over the raised sidebar. Her second leg quickly followed, and then, with more strength and quickness than I would have thought she possessed, she heaved her torso up and over the bar and her frail body headed for a crash landing on the floor.

Now, it was not my job as a respiratory therapist to be taking care of senile, post-surgery patients.  My training did not include how to handle an unsteady, incoherent patient who might be trying to climb out of bed at two in the morning. As long as she was breathing, she wasn’t my responsibility. Technically, I was not required to do anything in response to what I saw. And yet, clearly the scene before me begged for some action on my part, trained or not.

This episode came to mind when I was mulling over Luke’s familiar passage that tells of the shepherds in the field outside of Bethlehem on that chilly, dark night with which we’re so familiar. They were doing what shepherds do—watching over their flocks of sheep. Their job descriptions probably called for nothing more than to stay with the animals and protect the sheep from their own stupidity as well as from any outside danger.  These shepherds had probably been doing the same job since they were big enough to walk and in their lifetimes they probably expected nothing more than to always be loyal, trustworthy shepherds.

Now imagine with me for a few minutes …Close your eyes if it will help you to visualize… You are a shepherd in the rocky hills outside of Bethlehem on a cold December night. You’re minding your own business, which means you’re minding the sheep.  The docile animals are settled in for a long night’s sleep so your task is simply to react to any dangers that might threaten them. It’s late and you’re feeling drowsy, as conversation with your fellow shepherds trails off. Your eyelids become heavy and you pull a scratchy, coarsely-woven blanket up under your chin to ward off the night chill. You’re about to doze off…

! ! Suddenly, the most bizarre thing—a dazzling radiance fills the night sky. You are instantly awake and alert, confused by this totally unexpected vision that fills the air above you. A single angel is seen, backlit by the blazing light that arises from the very presence and power of God…Then the angel speaks…and you feel your knees buckle beneath you. “Do not be afraid,” says the heavenly messenger, addressing your fear even as it begins to rise within you.

The message the angel delivers is every bit as spectacular as is the mere sight of this heavenly being. The Hebrew people have been awaiting the arrival of a Messiah for generations…and now, the shepherds are told, he has arrived. In fact, he’s lying in a manger, not far from where they’re standing.

What is their reaction? They could easily have gone back to their nightly routine, doing nothing in response to the angels’ news. “Not my job” is a frequently used phrase these days, as we try to stay within our own narrow field of responsibility and never willingly take on anything additional. Shepherds are not public relations men or communications experts. They are not news reporters or interviewers. Who could blame then for lowering their heads, ignoring the spectacle in front of them, and instead, simply concentrating on the animals they were hired to watch? That was their job, wasn’t it? 

In fact, the angel did not demand anything of these men. The angel simply made an announcement. It was for the shepherds themselves to recognize the importance of what had been said and to decide what, if anything, to do in response.

I love the words used to describe the shepherd’s action. No details are given   about the discussions they might have had, out there under the now-tranquil moonlit sky.

Luke simply says that the shepherds “spoke to one another” and then, he tells us, they went “with haste.”  With haste—I looked up the associated Greek word for “haste” and it is defined not just in terms of doing something “quickly,” but also doing it “with associated energy.” This was not just a “ho-hum, I suppose we’d better get at it” kind of reaction, but rather, a concentrated, purposeful, dynamic response to what they had just witnessed. They didn’t take time to discuss the pros and cons, they didn’t take time to think through the possible alternatives, or time to make careful plans for their absence, or time to chart out a course of travel.

Instead, in the initial reaction to what had taken place in their presence, they responded quickly and decisively, with energy!  Inspired by what they had witnessed, maybe assuming themselves to be the only ones who were aware of the situation, they responded as God no doubt intended for them to respond. In spite of their lack of skill or training, they did what needed to be done—they wasted no time before traveling into town to check out the information they had been given.  Once they saw the baby Jesus for themselves and spoke with Mary and Joseph, they went out and shared their story with all who would listen.

Before their unusual night-time experience, and again following their journey to the stable, these men were simply shepherds. They knew their job requirements and they carried them out routinely. They didn’t pretend to be anything they were not.

Yet, when God broke into their lives in a most unusual way, they broke out of their defined roles and responded with decisive action. In their haste—  their energy-filled quickness—  to respond to the revelation given to them, they became more than what they had been. That night, a group of lowly shepherds became public relations men and communications experts; they became investigative detectives and news reporters.  Touched by the power of God, they did something they never knew they could do.

Sometimes, I have noticed, God puts us smack in the middle of unfamiliar circumstances, in a unique position to do something we’re not prepared or trained to do. Often when we find ourselves is such a predicament, we’re tempted to shut our eyes, turn our backs, keep walking. We’re left hoping someone more qualified will come along and take care of the situation, relieve us of the burden, allow us to return to our comfort zone. But when God plunks us down into such a situation, God also gives us the energy of his presence and his power to act…to act in haste!...to do what needs to be done. Left to their own powers, those simple herdsmen would no doubt have done a quick assessment of their own skills and decided to stay put. But affected by the power of God, those same shepherds acted “in haste”—quickly, and with energy.

You’re no doubt wondering what became of Annie the night she tried to escape from her hospital bed.  I was the only one there to see the impending disaster. It was not within my training to do any patient lifting or moving by myself. I could easily ignore her and continue on to the room of my asthmatic patient whose breathing treatment was due.    

In the instant that I hesitated outside Annie’s room, I felt a divine presence around me, and just like the shepherds had done, I “went with haste.”  Quickly and with unexpected energy, I bolted into the room, wrapped my arms around Annie’s skinny little body, and I gently lowered her to the floor.

In response to what I came to think of as God’s prompting, I was able to do something outside of my own realm of expertise, something I didn’t know I could do.

Isn’t it amazing what can take place when we are surrounded by the glory and the power of God, when we’re empowered to carry out his will in the world?

I wonder what might happen if we were to intentionally go looking for just such opportunities, for opportunities to “go with haste” into the world and to act— quickly, and with energy— …now that we know the truth of the story the shepherds shared that night.