This Will Be a Sign for You
Luke 2:1-20
“Whereas the Providence which has guided our whole existence and which has shown such care and generosity, has brought our life to the peak of perfection in giving to us [A LEADER], whom it filled with virtue for the welfare of mankind, and who, being sent to us and to our descendants as a savior, has put an end to war and has set all things in order.”
Those rather grandiose words come from an inscription on a Roman calendar dating to 9 BC, just a few years before the birth of Jesus. The inscription was written to honor a man who was born with the name Gaius Octavius but who became known to the world as Caesar Augustus, the first emperor of Rome. After the fall of the Roman Republic and the civil war that ensued, which saw Gaius Octavius alone emerge on top, the weakened Roman Senate awarded him the title “Augustus,” meaning “illustrious one.”
From 27 BC until his death from natural causes in AD 14, a span of more than 40 years, Caesar Augustus ruled over an empire that stretched west to east from one end of the Mediterranean Sea to the other, and from the Rhine River in the north to the shores of North Africa in the south.
At the far eastern end of the empire in the province of Judea lay the city of David, Bethlehem. Now, when I say “city,” I’m not talking about something on par with Roman imperial cities like Alexandria, Antioch, and certainly not Rome, and not even Jerusalem. In fact, to call Bethlehem a city, even by the standards of antiquity, is generous. Although a moment ago we sang the hymn “Once in Royal David’s City,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem” would be more accurate. At the time that Jesus was born, Bethlehem had a population of no more than a thousand people. So really, we’re talking about a small village, not a city or even a large town. It’s doubtful that the emperor had ever heard of Bethlehem or could point to it on a map.
While Bethlehem was of no political or commercial importance to the empire, to Jews Bethlehem was of great theological importance. It was the birthplace of Israel’s King David and was prophesied to be the birthplace of the Messiah. As written by the prophet Micah, “But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days” (Micah 5:2).
The Messiah, it was commonly believed, would be a great military and political leader who would overthrow the occupying forces and restore the glory of Israel. It would be only natural, then, for God to make clear to the people by divine revelation and by miraculous sign the identity of the Messiah. Right? After all, anyone could claim to be the Messiah, and many did. To separate the pretenders from the real thing, surely God would indicate in some fashion that this person was God’s anointed, God’s chosen one. Something bold would be in order. Something dramatic. Something that would leave no doubt in the minds of Jews and Israel’s enemies alike. You know, something like Moses, staff in hand, arms upraised, parting the Red Sea!
Let’s listen to Luke tell how the Messiah will be identified. Now, I know that you’ve heard these verses many, many times, but try to imagine that you’re hearing them for the first time.
Now in that same region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.
Okay. A few random shepherds in a field, you say? That’s a little surprising. You’d think that God might want more bang for the buck. But let’s see where this is going.
Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.
Now you’re talking! The majesty of God on display. Shock and awe!
But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”
Yes! Yes! What will be the sign? How will we know how to identify this future warrior king who will liberate us from the tyranny of oppression?
This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”
Huh? Come again? Lying in a what? A manger? You mean a feeding trough for livestock? Alright, but it’s like a manger made of gold, right? A manger fit for a king. This is our Savior we’re talking about.
If you’ve ever sat in on one of the tours that we offer for the Tiffany windows, you’ve heard me say that I believe that the Gospels contain unappreciated humor. This passage here in Luke is the kind of thing I’m talking about. The enormous gap between what the expectations for the Messiah were and what the reality of the Messiah’s coming looked like…well, there’s a kind of irony there that is humorous and yet entirely in keeping with God’s character. As the Lord says through the prophet Isaiah, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways” (Isaiah 55:8).
God acts in ways that we would never expect. If the backdrop for the birth of the Savior is the Roman Empire, then we would expect to see the pageantry of empire—legions marching, trumpets blaring. But what we get is the humdrum of bureaucracy—a census for the purpose of taxation.
We would expect one of royal lineage to have an impressive pedigree, not to come from parents who are peasants.
For such an important event, we would expect an audience of A-listers from the big city, but the announcement of our Savior’s birth is made to some random shepherds in a field.
We would expect a dramatic show of strength for the one who will liberate the people from oppression, but our Savior comes to us in weakness as a helpless infant.
We would expect the one who will sit upon the throne to have an auspicious birth, but our Savior is born in a borrowed room surrounded by the sounds and smells of livestock, amid dirt and dung.
The sign that the Savior has been born is that he’s wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a feeding trough! For real! That’s the sign! How can that be the sign? It doesn’t seem very impressive. It’s not the kind of sign that seems befitting of the Savior of the world. What kind of message does it send?
This is the message that it sends: the extraordinary appears in the ordinary. The God of all creation shows up without fanfare in quiet, unassuming, and unexpected ways, whether two thousand years ago in Bethlehem of Judea or today in Haverstraw of Rockland County. It sends the message that the good news is not confined to the corridors of power but is proclaimed to regular people—to shepherds working the night shift and to congregations struggling with broken boilers. It sends the message that God shows up in the mud and mire and the unholy mess of our lives. It means that the places where we would least expect God to appear—amid family dysfunction, alcohol and drug addiction, amid poverty and debt, loneliness and depression, amid a dreaded diagnosis, and even death itself…well, that is precisely where the good news of great joy is breaking into the world.