The first person to make a nativity scene was Francis of Assisi, in 1223 AD. Francis’s imagination was so captured by the “lowness” of Jesus’ birth that he dramatized it, re-creating the scene complete with a manger and live animals. He gave it as a gift to the church to root their faith in the details of Christ’s birth. This letter is a virtual nativity scene – our gift to all of you who’ve blessed us and prayed for us this last year! Let’s look behind the curtain at Luke’s account.
Luke describes Jesus’ birth with a single sentence: “And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth, and she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”
It all seems ok until you get to the end of the sentence. With the single word manger, Luke paints a scene of confusion and poverty. Evidently, Joseph and Mary had tried but failed to get better lodging, forcing them into the only available room, a sheepfold. Something is off. Overcrowding because of the census doesn’t make sense because the Jewish world (unique among the ancients) prized babies. A birthing mom would get preference for lodging. Was there lingering shame over the seemingly out of wedlock birth? We don’t know.
With the single word manger, Luke paints a scene of confusion and poverty.
When you are vulnerable and alone, like this couple, you have no recourse but to go low. Low is not usually pleasant. Barns are stinky and dirty because sheep are not potty trained. We took our grandkids out to our donkey and goat shed for Christmas one year and had them sit on bales of hay while we read Luke’s account. Needless to say, they were not used to the stench nor to stepping in donkey poo.
After Luke’s cryptic reference to the manger, he shifts his focus to the hills outside of Bethlehem and shepherds working the night shift. Suddenly, the night sky is torn open by a single angel, and then a vast angel army, singing as ancient armies did on their way to battle. But Luke holds our focus there for just an instant, then shifts the camera to the shepherds and their discovery of the baby Jesus in a manger. This is pink slip time for our “director” Luke. Any good film director would have panned his camera back and forth over this army of warrior angels, similar to what we see in the great cavalry charges of the Lord of the Rings films. And yet, Luke fixates on the shepherds, placing them at the center of the narrative. He mentions the shepherds 22 times (bold), while the infant Jesus gets 7 references (italics), and the angels get 6 (underlined).
And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”
When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger. And when they saw it, they made known the saying that had been told them concerning this child. And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. (Luke 2:6-20)
It is true that ancient kings, from Persia to Egypt, called themselves shepherds of their people, but other than that slightly romantic touch, no one wanted to be a shepherd. It was a dirty, smelly job, with awful hours. And yet, here they are, first century garbage men, center stage in the greatest drama of all history, the incarnation of the son of God.
It’s so hidden. When the family escaped to Egypt and later returned to Nazareth, no one was left to confirm Mary’s story. The Wise Men from the East fled. The shepherds were gone. Angels have a way of disappearing, and her beloved Joseph, who never says a word, has died. It was just her memories left. It’s all seemingly out of control. Every single plan of Joseph and Mary’s from marriage to birth location has gotten messed up.
We have some sense of how Mary handled all of this. Luke repeatedly tells us that “she hid it in her heart.” That means, she didn’t try to connect the dots, she waited for the meaning to emerge, for the story to unfold. It’s one thing to do that when you’ve just won the lottery, it’s another thing to give birth surrounded by piles of manure.
She participated in the humility of the Son of God. It all made sense now, so she celebrates this new kingdom of love, that includes the outsider, the low-life and celebrates the low, dirty places that God puts his saints. She got it.
This whole story, scholars are relatively sure, is Mary’s story. When Luke interviewed her in her old age, this magnificent story poured out. It’s Mary who remembered the manger and put the shepherds at the center. She participated in the humility of the Son of God. It all made sense now, so she celebrates this new kingdom of love, that includes the outsider, the low-life and celebrates the low, dirty places that God puts his saints. She got it.
The cross, too, that lowest of places, casts its dark shadow over the birth. Mary recalls Simeon’s promise, “a sword shall pierce your own heart,” and adds an odd detail, the mention of the swaddling clothes. At his death they would wrap Jesus again in a fine linen sheet. She was there. She saw it happen.
This way of inhabiting life, Mary’s way, is at the heart of how the kingdom works. Jesus himself said that the secret to the kingdom was the seed dying. Only then could it grow and produce “beyond all that we can ask or even imagine.”
At a particularly dark time in our ministry 18 years ago, I wrote out the post-it note above and put it on my computer: “The Kingdom of God is a seed: hidden, low, slow. Be patient. 8/9/06.” I look back on that note and marvel at what God’s done in and through seeJesus. Our work is still low, slow, and hidden, but the seed that dies (and keeps on dying) is bearing fruit worldwide with 100 seminars a year and hundreds of Trainers and Apprentices teaching others, all with the singular focus of drawing the church to see and become like our Lord Jesus.
If you are spending this Christmas in a low place, take heart; Jesus was born there.
Merry Christmas from all of us at seeJesus!
A version of this article will be available at byFaith.
