While shepherds watched their flocks by night

Posted in Christmas, Religion on Monday, 3 October 2011

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This edited article about Christmas originally appeared in Look and Learn issue number 830 published on 10 December 1977.

Christmas shepherds, picture, image, illustration

The Angel appears before the shepherds by John Millar Watt

It was after midnight in the small town of Bethlehem. The sudden sound of voices and hurried footsteps in the streets must have roused more than one respectable townsman from his sleep. Peering from their low doorways, they would have been surprised to see who it was that disturbed their rest.

It was a party of shepherds. They were recognisable by their typical rough woollen cloaks and head-cloths, and the crooks that several of them carried.

It was unusual enough to find anyone stirring at that time of night. For the shepherds to have abandoned their flocks in the neighbouring hills, and to have come down into Bethlehem in the middle of the night, was strange indeed.

It was a little disturbing, too. For to other people, shepherds seemed an outlandish, brigand-like lot. Though their work was essential to the life of the community, they lived in a world apart. They were tough men, too, ready to defend their flocks – and themselves – with iron-bound clubs and long-bladed knives. Defence was often necessary, both against thieves and against wild predators, such as wolves and jackals.

That night the town-dwellers soon realised that there was no call for anxiety – but plenty of cause for curiosity. The shepherds, stopping here and there in the narrow alleys and streets, had only one question to ask – a strange one, but harmless. Where, they wanted to know, was the baby that had been born that night?

At first they received nothing but puzzled replies. Nobody, it seemed, knew of any birth expected in Bethlehem at that time. It was not until they came to the township’s only inn that they learnt what they wanted to know. There a yawning servant told them of a young couple who had arrived late that evening, Like many others, they had come to Bethlehem, which was their birthplace, to register for the census ordered by the Emperor in Rome.

The inn was already full when they had come in search of lodging; but the innkeeper, learning that the woman was expecting a baby, had said that they could shelter in what he called his “stable” – half cave and half lean-to – beside the inn. The young wife’s baby had indeed been born soon afterwards.

Silent now, the shepherds made their way towards the dim light that showed the entrance to the stable . . .

For the shepherds, that night had started like any other at that time of year. They had gathered their flocks of sheep and goats together to share the pen, walled with rough stone, that gave some protection from marauders, human and animal. Fires had been lit, and a meal of barley bread and boiled lentils eaten, washed down with fresh ewe’s milk.

At this season it was bitterly cold at night, and, after their meal, most of the shepherds retired to their tents, leaving only two or three whose turn it was to keep watch. There would not be many more such nights that year. Soon it would be time to lead the flocks down from the open pastures to pass the coldest months under cover.

The life of shepherds was a hard one, but in many ways a satisfying one. They enjoyed a degree of independence that was denied to other men, and they grew to love the animals they tended. Their flocks were not driven, or herded by barking snapping dogs. Instead they were trained to follow their shepherd, and learnt to come to his call. There were many shepherds who played on flutes, and used these to communicate their orders to the animals.

Only some quite extraordinary event could have induced the shepherds to leave their posts with the flocks they guarded so zealously. Sitting by their fires, the shepherds on watch had first felt that this was not quite like other nights when they had become aware of the unusual brilliance of the starlight.

An unearthly light bathed the whole countryside, growing brighter every minute. Then, towards midnight, something happened to break the brilliant stillness of the night. What it was that really occurred, perhaps even the shepherds themselves would have found it difficult to describe. Afterwards stories were told of an angel appearing to them; of heavenly choirs singing; of a voice proclaiming an event of stupendous import.

Whatever the truth of such stories, the shepherds were left in no doubt that they had been privileged to receive a message from Heaven, telling them that an infant had been born that night in Bethlehem, and that the babe was none other than the Messiah who, according to ancient prophecy, was to lead God’s Chosen People into a new and blessed era.

The shepherds roused their sleeping comrades, and soon they were hastening down the hill track towards the town . . .

When they at last entered the cramped inn stable, it was no vision of majestic splendour which greeted them. In the dim light of a single lamp, they saw the young couple. Between them stood a straw-filled manger. Resting in it, wrapped in the swaddling bands that were used to clothe young babies, lay the new-born infant. In the shadows behind stood a pair of oxen and an ass.

There was nothing in this humble scene to suggest that this was a baby different from any other. Yet the very simplicity of the setting cast a spell of its own. The shepherds did not doubt that here was the new-born Messiah they had come to seek. One by one they sank to their knees in silent homage.

How long the shepherds stayed there is not recorded. When eventually they left, they broke into excited talk. To everyone who would listen to them they announced their astonishing news.

The amazing behaviour of the shepherds, and the scarcely credible story they had to tell, caused a few to wonder whether the story could be true. But it was, after all, only shepherds’ talk.

The Messiah born in a cow-shed? The idea was surely unthinkable. Certainly the priests and elders gave no sign of accepting it, and they were the ones who should know. It was well known that the priests thought the shepherds little better than heathens. Their way of life left little time or opportunity for observing the exacting rules of conduct that the priests laid down.

So when the shepherds had gore back to their flocks, it must have been all too easy for people to dismiss the whole affair from their minds. Of all the people of Bethlehem, it was only the simple shepherds who had been destined to experience the full wonder of that night.

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