Through the Eyes of Shepherds (2)
Christmas 2022 • Sermon • Submitted
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· 32 viewsA first-person character narrative set in a press conference. This "sermon" recounts the reasons why the angels came to the shepherds in the fields and ties the birth of Christ to its historical setting during Sukkot and its geographical reference to Migdal Eder at Bethlehem.
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Through the Eyes of the Shepherds
Christmas 2022
Genesis 35:19-21; Micah 4:8; 5:2; Luke 2:8-20
Thesis: The birth of Messiah in the fields outside of Bethlehem fulfilled precise prophecies. The angelic visit to priestly shepherds was logical and needful, not a random choice at all. As was every part of Christ’s advent and ministry, these details were planned long ago and purposeful in the outpouring of God’s atonement for the sins of mankind.
Introduction (Mike):
As we move toward the part of our service where we typically receive the word of God through a sermon, I am excited to bring something a little different. You may have heard of the birth of Jesus in the fields of Bethlehem several years ago. No doubt you’ve read of these events many times, especially as we celebrate Christmas year after year. This year, however, we have the privilege of having an eyewitness of and participant in those events here to help us better understand what transpired on that glorious night. I’d like to introduce Zeb to you. He is a levitical shepherd whose family has kept the sacrificial flocks around Bethlehem for generations. He’s going to come now and tell us his story. After his opening remarks, we will open it up to questions from you, ladies and gentlemen of the press. Please join me in welcoming Zeb.
Opening Remarks (Jason):
Thank you, Pastor Mike.
As was mentioned, my name is Zeb. I’m a levitical shepherd. My family has been helping to care for the sacrificial flock between Bethlehem and Jerusalem for hundreds of years. Our job has always been focused on producing as many sheep and goats worthy of temple sacrifice as possible and safeguarding those animals until they are of sacrificial age. As such, we’re always looking for good lambs, and we’re keen on letting people know when we’ve found one.
Our lives are fairly routine. Springtime is busy with lambing. We keep careful watch over our Ewes. When one of our old girls is ready to deliver, we move her up to the manger. That’s what we call the pen at the base of the Migdal Eder, our watchtower. There, a group of us shepherds makes sure that the new lambs that are born are free of defects and fit for sacrifice. Those that meet the standards are washed clean, wrapped in swaddling bands, and set to nurse and be cared for by their mothers. Those that aren’t are either quickly culled or set aside for private use. All through the spring, we are caring for new lambs and supplying last year’s lambs, the one-year-olds, to the temple for Passover and the other spring festivals. It’s crazy how busy we are then.
The summer is more mundane, leading our flock from field to field to make sure that they are well-cared-for, keeping predators away, and undertaking the many duties of the life of a shepherd.
Things get exciting again in the fall. While every Jewish household has to have a sacrificial lamb for Passover, the temple itself only needs a dozen or so. The Fall festivals are the opposite. Individual Jews don’t have to bring a lamb to the altar, but the temple worship goes through two dozen a day during the week of Sukkot. Still, it’s quieter for us than the demand during Passover.
Also, as soon as the summer harvest season is over, and the harvesting and gleaning are done, the farmers like to have us take our sheep through their fields to turn their stubble into fertilizer. The sheep love these days in the fields. During the fall festivals, a group of us are up in the temple courts with our hundred or so sheep for the sacrifice, while most of us are out in the fields watching them eat and making sure they don’t get into trouble.
It was one of those nights, during Sukkot, the fest of Booths, that changed my life. Actually, it changed way more than that. Those of us that the high priest had selected by lot to be a part of the temple sacrificial group were already up on the temple mount, watching over the sacrificial herd in their last few days before they were used in worship. The rest of us had spread out to the various farmers' fields in the area. I was in a group watching a field not far from our watch tower. It was a cold night, and the moon was just past full, so it was bright all around.
This was one of the three times each year when all adult males were commanded to be in Jerusalem. Most of them brought their whole family if they could.
They had set up their booths all throughout the city of Jerusalem, and many temporary villages had sprung up in the fields outside the city walls.
Bethlehem was close enough to Jerusalem to be an approved place to set up camp, so even in the city, booths had sprouted from every flat piece of ground or roof. Nothing transformed the landscape like Sukkot.
The sounds of the temple festivities could be heard echoing over the hills. We were only a few miles from the temple, and all clean adult Jewish males were singing and celebrating there. I was a little disappointed that I wasn’t among them, but someone had to stay and watch over the ewes that would produce next year’s sacrifice. Someone had to look to the future worship of our God.
Then it happened. The sky was already bright with stars, a full moon, and the sparks going up from our campfire. Suddenly, though, it got a lot brighter! First, it was just one angel, but that was enough to send us scrambling backward and huddling in fear.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. I’ll never forget how hard it was to control the mindless pounding of my heart in my ears. Still, I heard him clearly as he went on, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this night, in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord!”
I wasn’t sure if I heard him right. The Savior? Messiah? Now? Here? We all knew about the promises. We were Levites, after all! We all knew that someday our old watch tower would be the place from which Messiah’s kingdom would be proclaimed, but it had been so long since those promises were given, and so much had gone wrong for our people since then, that, if I’m honest, I wasn’t sure if God still remembered those promises anymore.
“Where is he?” Jude, one of my friends, asked, apparently more present in the moment than was I.
“This will be the sign for you. You will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”
Then the sky got a lot brighter still. Our angel was joined by many others. The sky was alive with them as they turned the farmlands of Bethlehem into a worship experience that far outstripped what was going on in the temple those few miles behind us. At that moment, I realized how fortunate I was that I hadn’t been chosen to go to the temple. Where others were washed in the glow of great lamps, sacrificial fires, and candles beyond measure, I was caught up in the sea of God’s glory shining out through the faces of His servants of fire before us. Where the shepherds I’d envied moments before enjoyed the familiar hymns of our people sung by thousands of worshipping men, I heard the choir of heaven saying, “Glory to God in the highest! And on earth peace among those with whom He is pleased!”
Then they were gone just as quickly as they’d appeared. The land was quiet and still once more. We all looked around at each other, big stupid grins on all of our dirty faces, and then the silence was broken by first one and then another exclamation of praise, hoots of joy, or nervous laughter. We were overcome by the moment. We couldn’t believe our luck! Tonight! Messiah had come tonight! All of a sudden, nothing else mattered. The sheep before us, munching on the remains of wheat and barley didn’t exist. The king had come!
I was pulled back to the moment by the sound of slapping sandals as the same young shepherd who’d found the courage to speak to the angel started trotting away.
“Where are you going?” I asked Jude.
“To the tower, of course!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go see Him!” I knew immediately that he was right. We all fell in stride with him and jogged up those familiar trails together. We reached the tower in short order.
We could tell as we approached that the tower’s lower pen was occupied. A faint glow could be seen coming out through the windows, which were closed against the cool night air, and from around the door which fit poorly in its frame. As we got closer, the hushed voices of a young man and the gentle sounds of a baby met us. We paused outside the door and waited. Should we go in? The angel had told us that he’d been born, “to us.” He was in our manger!
We stood for a moment, looking at one another for affirmation. This time, it was me who acted first. I knocked gently and pushed the door in enough to make my presence known, not yet looking in. The voices inside stopped.
“Yes?” said the young man we’d heard before.
“I’m sorry to intrude. We’re shepherds. This is our tower. There were angels…” I paused, suddenly unsure what to say. All I could think of was, “Is it true?”
There wasn’t an immediate reply. I imagine that the young family inside was as unsure of what to say as was I. Then eventually, I heard a young woman say, “Yes.”
Some sounds inside the room let me know that they were stirring. Then footsteps approached. I backed away from the door as it opened inward. There, before us, was the young man. A smile as wide as his face was matched with bright eyes, full of hope, if not a bit of fatigue, greeted us.
“Come and see,” he said, welcoming us into a room we knew so well. The straw and stones were all the same. The many stone feeding troughs were cleaned out and stacked against the wall, out of season and in storage for now. The bails of torn priestly garments, which we used to swaddle our newborn lambs were on their racks along another wall.
Then my eyes landed on the one trough that had been taken out of storage. In it was a newborn baby, wrapped in our swaddling cloths.
I froze. These were our things. This was our room, but I’d never seen anything like it. Lambs were born here. Lambs that would die for the sins of mankind. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I said nothing. Did nothing. How do you respond to this? The angel’s visit, the choir of heaven, the glory and grandeur of it all, the centuries of hope, the whispered stories around the campfire--it had all been about that moment. That baby. Our manger. Our trough. Our rags.
“The lamb of God,” one of my friends, Levi, said. The young woman kneeling by his crude cradle of stone gasped sharply at the words. It was the only sound for a few moments.
Then Jude, my young friend, the fast one, moved closer to the baby and squatted down to look closer.
“What’s his name?” He asked.
“Jesus,” said his young mother. I don’t know if the fatigue of our run or the imbalance of his position was to blame, but at the revelation of the babe’s name, my friend shifted his body forward and knelt, one knee on the ground, eyes transfixed.
“Yahweh saves,” I translated.
“Yes, He will.” said his father.
The rest of us moved in and likewise knelt around the stone crib and stared. Several of us, grown men all, were weeping quietly. How do you take it all in? Here where we’d been so many times and overseen so many births was a new baby. This one was born king of Israel and yet here in the place of sacrifice.
In the stillness of that place, the sounds of celebration drifted again to our ears over the Cremisan valley between the temple and our little watchtower. The melody was distinct if the words were less so. They were singing the Hillels. The 130th psalm was on the lips of the worshipping throng in the temple. The oldest one in our company was Bart. He was turning 50 in the spring and would be forced to retire from active ministry. He’d been here more than the rest of us. He’d been watching the longest. It was his voice that joined in with the worshippers to our north first.
“O Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy! If you, O LORD, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand?” The rest of us joined in with him. “But with you, there is forgiveness, that you may be feared. I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word, I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.” My eyes darted upward from the baby for a moment to the old beams of the watchtower above us. “O Israel, hope in the LORD! For with the LORD there is steadfast love, and with him is plentiful redemption. And he will redeem Israel from all his iniquities.”
The song drifted off, and we looked at each other. How many times had we sung this? It was all about this moment. For a few more minutes we sat in relative silence and took it in. Moments of music drifted in and out as the temple courts rang with the sounds of the rest of the Hillels. Then, after a moment of silence, the High priest would begin his exhortation to the congregation. We couldn’t hear him, but we knew what he was proclaiming. We’d heard it many times from the sheep pens in the court of the gentiles before.
“Adonai came to us to give us His law and grant us a vision of His glory, but our ancestors turned their backs on Adonai in the wilderness!” He was bellowing, “But our eyes are on God!” The other priests in the court with him would turn and face the holy place and join his chant, “Our eyes are on God!” Then those ceremonially clean men in the inner court would join in, “Our eyes are on God!” Then the women and those in the outer courts, “Our eyes are on God! Our eyes are on God!” All of Jerusalem was shouting now, “Our eyes are on God!” As their shouts grew louder and louder, they were joined by our own, much more quiet whispers. “Our eyes are on God!” I was undone. My eyes were truly on my God. On our king Messiah. On the lamb of God.
“Our job is over,” Levi said. “They don’t need us anymore. He’s here now.”
“Not yet,” I said, rising to my feet and wiping my eyes. The others looked at me. “We have to fulfill the prophecy.” Jude, stood with me, ready and eager, but not knowing what I meant. “His kingdom must be proclaimed from the watchtower of the flock.” I began walking toward the door, saying farewell to the young family. “We have news to share!”
We spread out, going throughout the city and proclaiming to all who were there that the Messiah had come, that the King was come at last to his people! Everyone who could have gone to worship that night was, of course, not at home. We found most doors closed, most booths empty, and most lamps out. Still, there were those who were, for one reason or another, not at the temple: the ceremonially unclean, the woman with her children, the sick, the lame, and not a few who had given up on the promises and had abandoned the faith of their fathers. For them, even the short walk across the valley was too much effort to be invested in dreams long stale. To them, especially, our news came with wonder and astonishment. We were not forgotten!
As morning broke, we gathered again on the hill outside the watchtower and looked down at the crags and valleys through which we’d guided our sheep for decades. There, just out of view, over a hill, was a farmer’s field that had recently been harvested. In it were a hundred ewes, enjoying the leftovers of the farmer’s work.
“Now we’re done,” I told Levi.
“Well, almost,” Jude said, as he walked down the trail toward our orphaned flock. “We’ve done our part, at least. He hasn’t finished his work yet.”
With a last look at the tower, I could almost imagine the young family, exhausted from the night’s ordeal, asleep inside. I began to follow Jude down the hill, the rest of our company trudging behind me, completely spent.
“I’ll keep your sheep a while longer while you grow up, my King,” I said, as we began the descent back down to our waiting ewes.
I’ll take your questions now.
Reporter 1 (Shad Sibert):
You said you were a “levitical shepherd.” I’ve never heard of those before.
Can you give us more information on what Levitical Shepherds do?
Jason:
You’ve never heard of a levitical shepherd? Have heard of Moses? The prophet Isaiah? Our patriarch Levi himself was a shepherd, as was his father Jacob, his grandfather Isaac, and the blessed father of our race himself, Abraham.
No, I understand your question. When God gave us Passover, as is recorded in Exodus 12:3-6, he instructed us to make sure that the lamb was spotless and without blemish. He also instructed the people to live with their lambs for several days before it was used in sacrifice.
Over time, the Rabbis became convinced that the decision of whether or not a lamb was fit for sacrifice was too important a question to be answered by individual heads of households. Levites and priests needed to be involved. They also needed to live with the lambs and declare, every day for three days before sacrifice, that they were fit for use in worship.
This presents a problem. Living with a sheep makes you unclean. You can’t muck your life through with sheep and deal with all that comes with that life and then approach the altar. So how do you have Levites living with and grading the lambs and Levites doing temple work? They just can’t be the same Levites.
The great Rabbi Hillel The Elder, who was a revered teacher in the temple in my days, recorded in his history that it was Samuel who first set aside twelve of his kin and appointed them to keep the temple flocks. Samuel was a Levite born to a family living in Ephrata, Bethlehem, and was familiar with shepherding in the area. There have been, for centuries, twelve families of Levites who have undertaken this task.
By the time I was born, there were way more shepherd Levites than were needed. Many of my friends opted to take up some other aspect of Levitical service, but I chose to continue the duties of my ancestors and keep the sheep. Still, there were more of us than there needed to be to run the sheep pens and sell our lambs in the temple throughout the year.
So, the High Priest cast lots every year on the day before Rosh Hashanah over our families and selected those who will serve at the temple the next year and those who will remain in the fields. As I’ve recounted, the lots didn’t fall to me that year. I’m not, in retrospect, disappointed.
Questions?
Reporter #2 (Art Blaker):
You said a lamb needed to be declared perfect three times before being sacrificed.
Did Levitical Shepherds declare Christ fit for sacrifice at some point?
Jason:
That’s interesting. Remember, the three-fold declaration was a teaching of our Rabbis. While we are careful to follow their rules, God himself isn’t always as concerned.
It is interesting, though. The angels told us that we would find the Savior of the world laying in “the manger” wrapped in swaddling cloths. We knew immediately what that meant. So, in a way, they were the first to declare the coming of the perfect sacrificial lamb.
Officially, though, we declared Him to be the Lamb of God, born in our watchtower and wrapped in our swaddling cloths, which set him apart as fit for sacrifice. That was one.
Then his cousin, John, who was of a Levite mother to a priestly father, famously pointed at him just before he began his ministry and declared, in John 1:29, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world!” That was two.
Then, hours before his death, God winked at the Rabbis’ teaching. It was Pontius Pilate, a gentile roman, who declared not one more time but three that he found Jesus innocent:
“[Luk 23:4, 14, 22 ESV] 4 Then Pilate said to the chief priests and the crowds, "I find no guilt in this man." ... 14 and said to them, "You brought me this man as one who was misleading the people. And after examining him before you, behold, I did not find this man guilty of any of your charges against him. ... 22 A third time he said to them, "Why? What evil has he done? I have found in him no guilt deserving death. I will therefore punish and release him."
So yes, Jesus was attested to by angels, levitical shepherds, a prophet-priest in the wilderness, and even our hated gentile overlord as being fit for sacrifice.
Questions?
Reporter 1 (Shad):
What’s up with this tower you keep mentioning?
Migdal…. Something.
Jason:
Eder. Migdal Eder. It’s a Hebrew name that, translated, means “watchtower of the flock.” The hills of Judea in that area are pronounced. The valleys are deep. The rocks are sharp. It would be too easy to lose a wayward sheep around a corner or in a ravine. So the shepherds of that area, long before even our ancestor Abraham began keeping sheep there, built a tower on the crest of the hill just north of Bethlehem to keep a better eye on the flocks that pastured there.
In Genesis 35, we have the story of the death of Rachel in labor to bring forth Benjamin.
[Gen 35:19-21 NIV] 19 So Rachel died and was buried on the way to Ephrath (that is, Bethlehem). 20 Over her tomb Jacob set up a pillar, and to this day that pillar marks Rachel's tomb. 21 Israel moved on again and pitched his tent beyond Migdal Eder.
The prophet Micah famously tells us in Micah 5:2 that Jesus would be born in Bethlehem of Judea, but a chapter earlier he is even more specific. Where in town would he be born? In Micah 4:6-9 we read,
[Mic 4:6-9 NIV] 6 "In that day," declares the LORD, "I will gather the lame; I will assemble the exiles and those I have brought to grief. 7 I will make the lame my remnant, those driven away a strong nation. The LORD will rule over them in Mount Zion from that day and forever. 8 As for you, watchtower of the flock, stronghold of Daughter Zion, the former dominion will be restored to you; kingship will come to Daughter Jerusalem." 9 Why do you now cry aloud--have you no king? Has your ruler perished, and that pain seizes you like that of a woman in labor?
Of course, the most immediate thing on the prophet’s mind when he gave this revelation was the returning remnant after our ancestors were taken into captivity to Babylon, but we found a much more important fulfillment on that night, as we told all those who could not or would not worship the Lord in the temple on Sukkot. The sick and lame, the apostate, and the unclean were to first to hear of His coming to the “tower of the flock.” Even the context of the cries of childbirth in the passage meant to picture anguish in that context, fit with its final culmination on that night.
The tower had long been identified in this way, even the oral tradition of the Rabbis, recorded in the Targum, added notes to Genesis 35, so that Rabi Johnathan had taught, “Migdal Eder is the place from whence, it is to be, the King Meshiha will be revealed at the end of the days.”
Reporter 1 (Shad Sibert):
Sorry to interrupt, but can we see this tower today? Where is it?
Jason:
It was already old when Jacob buried Rachel near it. The history of Hillel III records that it was near the spot of ground that Boaz bought when he redeemed Ruth. Because of this, it makes sense that it was where David, Boaz’s great-grandson, might have been watching over his father’s sheep when Samuel came to anoint him for worship. Micah 4:8 sets it in opposition to the Citadel of David, directly across the valley, so it has to be on the northern edge of old Bethlehem. Jerome visited it in the fourth century and described it as 1,000 paces north of the old city of Bethlehem. While there are a few archaeological sites which have been cautiously identified as Migdal Eder, the exact location of my old familiar watchtower is debatable in your day.
Questions?
Reporter 3 (Dale Doron):
The prophecies you mentioned had determined that Messiah would be proclaimed from the tower near Bethlehem.
Why Did Mary and Joseph go to the tower when Jesus was born?
Jason:
I suppose I can’t speak to their intentions at the time, but it was one of the best options for them.
The Romans had declared a census for taxation. Regional rulers had a year to satisfy the requirement. Herod chose to implement the census during the fall season. Joseph chose to combine his obligation to register in his hometown, Bethlehem, with his obligation to be in Jerusalem for Sukkot. There’s no sense in making that trip twice.
Of course, his pregnant fiance complicated his reality a bit. Roman taxes had to be paid when a child was born and when a couple got married. Add to this picture the periodic registration and taxation that Cesear had just declared, and Joseph was in a bind. If Mary were to present herself as an unmarried mother to the Galilean authorities, her child would have been declared a ward of the state, and there would be no taxes required.
We know that Joseph considered this route, but the angel appeared to him and reassured Him of God’s plan for his family. So he married his bride and left for Bethlehem with, likely, all the money he could put together.
[Mat 1:24-25 NIV] 24 When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. 25 But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.
After paying all of the taxes required, Joseph was out of money, but he had family in Bethlehem. His family surely offered him and his wife hospitality, even in the crowded state of the town with worshipping pilgrims and their booths everywhere.
The problem came when it was time to deliver their child. The law declared any woman who has given birth unclean for seven days. During those days, anything she touches and anyone who touches her becomes ceremonially unclean. Joseph’s family allowed them to stay in their guest room, and they were assuredly also welcome to celebrate in their booth, but it would have been inappropriate for them to have the child there and make all his relatives unable to attend the festival in the temple, so they needed another location.
Our tower was unoccupied at the time. It was private and clean, with linens and water and ample clean straw. They wouldn’t be violating someone’s home or preventing them from going to the temple to worship.
Reporter 3 (Dale Doron):
I thought there was no room in the inn?
Jason:
Correct! And not.
It’s a translation problem. You are reading English, not the original Greek.
The word that the authors used actually means “guest room.” Everywhere else the word appears in scripture, it’s translated that way. It should read, “There was no appropriate place in the guest room.” So they left for the event of the birth and the week that followed.
Reporter 3 (Dale Doron):
So there was no heartless innkeeper who turned them away?
Jason:
I’m afraid not. There was only a considerate husband who didn’t want to ruin his relative’s opportunity to celebrate Sukkot in the temple.
Reporter 3 (Dale Doron):
But that was my favorite character to play in the Christmas pageants as a kid.
Jason:
Sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. He didn’t exist.
Questions?
Reporter 2 (Art Blaker):
You make a big deal out of the birth of Jesus falling during Sukkot.
Why is the birth of Jesus during Sukkot significant?
And are you sure it wasn’t on December 25th?
Jason:
I’m sure it wasn’t Dec 25, yes. I was there.
No, if you look in the gospel of Luke, Zachariah is serving in the temple according to his normal time of service when Gabriel came to him and told him that he was going to father John the Baptist. We are also told in that same passage that he was of the priestly order of Abijah.
[Luk 1:5, 8-9 NIV] 5 In the time of Herod king of Judea there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah; his wife Elizabeth was also a descendant of Aaron. ... 8 Once when Zechariah's division was on duty and he was serving as priest before God, 9 he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to go into the temple of the Lord and burn incense.
In 1Chronicles 24, King David organizes the priests, who were numerous in his day. Everyone served on each of the three pilgrimage feasts, but the other weeks of the year were divided up by family. We are told that Abijah was on duty during the eighth non-feast week.
[1Ch 24:3-5, 10, 19 NIV] 3 With the help of Zadok a descendant of Eleazar and Ahimelek a descendant of Ithamar, David separated them into divisions for their appointed order of ministering. 4 A larger number of leaders were found among Eleazar's descendants than among Ithamar's, and they were divided accordingly: sixteen heads of families from Eleazar's descendants and eight heads of families from Ithamar's descendants. 5 They divided them impartially by casting lots, for there were officials of the sanctuary and officials of God among the descendants of both Eleazar and Ithamar. ... 10 the seventh to Hakkoz, the eighth to Abijah, ... 19 This was their appointed order of ministering when they entered the temple of the LORD, according to the regulations prescribed for them by their ancestor Aaron, as the LORD, the God of Israel, had commanded him.
This means that Zechariah was on duty during the 10th week of the year. He finished his work and spent a week journeying home. Give him a week to convince Elizabeth and conceive John, and Elizabeth is pregnant in the 13th week of the year. Six months later, Gabriel appears to Mary to announce the miraculous conception of Jesus.
[Luk 1:26-27 NIV] 26 In the sixth month of Elizabeth's pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, 27 to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary.
Interestingly, this would then occur on Hannakuh, the feast of dedication. Nine months later, Jesus is born during the week of Sukkot, the feast of Tabernacles.
As to the second part of your question, the meaning is profound!
Tabernacles or Sukkot celebrates many things, but the biggest two are the giving of the law on Sinai and the choice of God, after the apostasy around the golden calf, to continue to be with His children as they journeyed on the promised land. God set his rules before His people, which is in itself a gift of love, and then remains with them after their rebellion.
God is with His people! He is with them all through their journeys. They didn’t deserve this privilege, but He lavished His love on them by the visible manifestation of His presence.
Of course, in Christ, we have so much more on these two counts. More than just giving us the law written on stone, in Christ the living Word himself has come to live with us! We hear the words of God when Jesus speaks. We know the heart of God in every action of His Son.
So much more than the tower of fire or cloud, more even than the shekinah glory of the tabernacle and temple, we have in the person of Christ God of very God living, walking, eating, and sleeping amongst His people. God is more than just with us. He has become one of us! What a glorious truth.
Furthermore, if it was wonderful that God chose to reside among His people even after they sinned, how much more amazing is it that He came to be born in the place of sacrifice so that He might take on Himself the penalty of those sins and make atonement Himself? More than overlook our offense, he paid for it in full, as 2 Cor 5:21 declares!
[2Co 5:21 NIV] 21 God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
Hallelujah, What a Savior!
Questions?
Reporter 2 (Art Blaker):
When did you stop caring for the sacrificial flock, and what are you doing now?
Jason (Closing):
You like to ask two-part questions, don’t you? Alright.
I had to retire before our King Messiah finished his work. We are trained from youth in the care of sheep, but we aren’t allowed to work with the temple flock until we are 25 years old. That’s true of all Levites. You practice as a young man, but work begins for real at 25. Then, at 50 years old, we retire. So I retired while Jesus was a teenager, but I think your question is broader than that.
Many of our families believed that Jesus was Messiah. Many of us were among his followers early on. We very much appreciated how often he used our line of work in his teaching.
We were especially honored when he called himself the “good shepherd.” Imagine if the King of the Universe identified himself with your line of work: the “good engineer,” the “good assembly-line worker,” or the “good salesman.” Acts 6:7 tells of the many priests and Levites who became followers of the way, but our families were certainly among the first.
Still, his work was not done, and so neither was ours. We knew that his coming had signaled the end of the old ways, but until He told us to stop, we just kept on going. Until that day. Until that great day that, once again, changed everything.
Passover, as I’ve already said, was our biggest season by far. We worked all year to produce enough lambs fit for sacrifice for Passover. Every household had to buy one! Imagine the demand. It was always a good thing when the older shepherds who had officially retired were able to show up and help out. By this time, my son was employed in the life, and he was working the temple flock that year. I had come out to lend a hand, as had Jude and Levi from that first night. Bart had since gone to Abraham’s side.
We knew that it was a special year. Our great King Messiah had just ridden in on a donkey, fulfilling the prophecy of Zechariah 9:9.
[Zec 9:9 ESV] 9 Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
Oh, how we’d cheered from the sale pens as he’d ridden by! We shouted “Hosannah to the son of David!” at the top of our lungs.
Then we heard of hard things happening. We saw literally thousands of men that week as they came to buy lambs for their families. Those who came later in the week were more solemn, which was out of place for a joyous celebration like Passover. There were rumors that he had been arrested.
By Friday, all the lambs that would be sold had been sold, and we were cleaning up our stall and getting the few lambs that hadn’t been sold organized to drive back down to the valley when we saw the procession.
Well, we heard it first. Some were crying and wailing. Some were screaming in pain. Some were yelling, mocking, and jeering. The sound spooked our sheep. My son was trying to settle them down, but I was focused on the mob headed our way. We saw soldiers, pushing people back, clearing the road. We saw the execution team marching, stone-faced, hammers, spikes, and spears in hand. Then came the prisoners. I didn’t know the first, but my heart went out to him. I don’t know what he’d done to end up here, but I’d learned to love and have compassion from my Lord, and it welled up inside me for this unfortunate man. I said a quiet prayer for him and his family.
Then the second man came into view, and my heart stopped beating. Time stood still for a moment. I don’t know if you’ve ever had that experience, where nothing else matters. You can’t even tell how long it lasts, but for that moment, all of your senses, and all your attention is brought to one thing. That’s how it was when I saw my Lord’s face come into view--bloodied, beaten, swollen, with a twisted branch of thorns jabbed into his brow. I saw him carrying his cross. I saw him fall. I rushed to try to help, but the crowd was too thick. I couldn’t get to him. Anyway, they grabbed another fellow. They made him carry the cross and drove him on. I watched him go, saw his back laid open by the whipping he’d obviously already endured.
I watched him as long as I could. The soldiers lining the streets kept the crowd away and prevented me from following him. I saw another prisoner pass. Then more soldiers. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the point of the road where I’d last seen him. When the crowd-control officers moved on and we were free to move again, for the second time in my life, I left the sheep behind and followed at a distance to the execution site.
Along the way, I noticed that Jude and Levi were there as well. We watched from the background. We saw John, his closest friend, and his mother there. We were surprised not to see the others. We watched him die.
“The Lamb of God,” Levi said, for the second time.
We stood there for a while. I don’t know how long, really. My son, who had stood with us throughout the ordeal, left to go see what had happened to our sheep and our items back at the pen. Levi, Jude, and I had stayed. I didn’t know where to go after that. Night was falling. My son came back to where we were and told me that he’d loaded up the fencing. Nobody had taken the money box, thankfully, but the few sheep that had been left alone had wandered off.
“The sheep are gone,” he told me.
“That’s okay, my son,” I answered back, watching as the soldiers were working to take the bodies down off the cross. “We don’t need them anymore.”
That was the last day that I was in the company of temple sheep. The sacrificial system would endure for about 40 more years, but I knew that there was no need. The one perfect Lamb of God had given his life once and for all. No more sacrifice would be needed.
You asked what we do now. Levitical Shepherds? Nothing.
But the faithful followers of Messiah are doing today what we did that first Christmas morning so many years ago--spreading the news! You see, unlike every lamb I’d watched be born, that I had graded, evaluated, and carefully shepherded--every lamb I sold to the temple worshippers had been killed. They had all had their blood drained out and cast upon the altar for the sins of mankind. That was the end of their story. Tens of thousands of them in my career had gone to Jerusalem to die.
Jesus was different. He, the Holy Lamb of God, born in our manger, wrapped in our cloths, had also gone to Jerusalem to die, to have his blood drained out for the sins of mankind, but that’s where the similarity stops. When he died, death could not hold him. The grave could not contain him.
He burst out of the grave with the glory and power of His godhood fully on display three days later!
Levi, Jude, and I, together with our sons, were overcome with joy when we heard about the resurrection! We kept asking the Apostles so many questions. Of course, it took Thomas a week before he felt confident answering them, but the electricity among us all was indescribable!
Imagine the elation when my friends and I were able to see him resurrected when he appeared to a group of 500 of us a few days later! Oh, how great our joy! When Jesus left that gathering, I remember Jude grabbing me by the shoulders. He was still eager, even in his older age. He looked me in the eye, and with a fire undimmed by time repeated my words from that first morning back to me.
“We have news to share!”
We all have news to share.
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