PITY THE SHEEP—sometimes, they get a bad rap. To be fair, some of it is deserved. They tend to think with their bellies, always on the lookout for where the grass is greenest. They may stray away from the flock or even try to force their way through fences if they see a nice bit of pasture. This can put them in danger if there are predators about; a lone sheep is no match for a lone wolf.

And sheep are known for their mindless herd mentality. In Turkey in 2005, for example, one sheep strayed over a cliff and fell nearly 50 feet to its death. You’d think the rest of the flock would say, “Oh no! Poor Baaaaarry! We’d better stay away from the edge.” But no, the rest of the flock of 1,500 sheep followed. Only 400 of them died, though—because they broke the fall of their more fortunate cousins who followed. It’s no wonder that we accuse people of being mere sheep when they blindly follow a leader into disaster.

But they’re more intelligent than we generally give them credit for. Think of Jesus’ words in John 10, when he claimed to be the Good Shepherd. He begins by describing something that people of the time would already have known about sheep and their shepherds:

[T]he sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice. (John 10:3-5, NIV)

It’s true: sheep can recognize their own shepherd’s voice and respond to it. Jesus is describing the practice of putting sheep from different flocks into a single pen. When it’s time for one flock to leave, the shepherd calls to them, and only the sheep from that flock will come, because they recognize his voice. Indeed, research suggests that they would also recognize his face; sheep can recognize faces even from photographs.

So let’s give sheep a little respect. And while we’re at it, let’s give some respect to shepherds, too.

After all, God did.

. . .

EVERY SOCIETY has its status distinctions, its ways of distinguishing who’s more worthy of consideration, admiration, and respect. Typically, more honor goes to the wealthy and powerful. But if you remember, that’s the reverse of what Mary says about God in the Magnificat:

He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
    he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
    but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
    but has sent the rich away empty. (Luke 1:51-53)

Suffice it to say that in the world of the New Testament, shepherds were among the “humble,” that is, those who were lowly in the eyes of others. The very nature of their work literally put them on the margins of society. Strict observance of the laws of ritual purity was impossible. They were often stereotyped as both untrustworthy and unclean. These were men who spent their days and nights with animals, sleeping out of doors or in tents; when it was cold, they likely made their campfires by burning dry sheep dung.

In Luke’s gospel, we’ve already had two angelic appearances: one to Zechariah, and one to Mary. Zechariah and Elizabeth, as we’ve seen, were righteous people but bore the stigma of being childless. Mary, for her part, describes herself as humble, and Luke tells us nothing about her that would suggest otherwise. But both were blessed to receive—by special delivery!—the good news of their role in God’s purposes.

Thus, it should be no surprise, at least in the context of Luke’s tale, that the next appearance of an angel (perhaps Gabriel himself, though Luke doesn’t say), would also be to people of low (or indeed very low) standing:

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” (Luke 2:8-14)

Picture the scene. It’s night. Somewhere outside of Bethlehem, out in the fields, a group of shepherds is tending sheep. The flocks are probably pooled together, perhaps being kept in a pen for safety. The shepherds take turns sleeping while at least one person keeps watch.

Suddenly, a brilliant light shines around them—the very glory of God. When Gabriel appeared to Zechariah and Mary, the angel had to reassure them: “Don’t be afraid.” Here, I imagine the contrast between the darkness of night and the brightness of the divine glory to be even more startling and terrifying, and once again, the angel has to say, “Don’t be afraid.”

And if that weren’t enough, the angel is suddenly joined by an entire company of angels, multiplying the spectacle exponentially. We should consider it a mercy that God started with just one angel before unleashing the host. But frankly, if I had been there, I wonder if I would have been able to pick my face up off the ground.

We’ll take a closer look at what the angels said and how the shepherds responded shortly. But for the moment, let’s pause to be grateful for the way God shows grace to the humble. He reveals himself to people that we’re tempted to consider beneath us, and makes them part of his plan. Such gratitude can help us realize an important truth: if God weren’t gracious in that way, we’d all be lost.