Sermon Tone Analysis

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.