In the Christmas story, angels tell Mary, Joseph and later the Shepherds, “Do not be afraid.”  Something wonderful but challenging is happening, the old order is disturbed.  If we wish to change our lives or change the world around us we must accept risk, suffer uncertainty, and go to the place where “hopes and fears are met.

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            When the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, to give her the news that she had found favor with God and would soon become pregnant by the Holy Spirit, the angel said, “Greetings, favored one!  The Lord is with you.”

            Hearing this, according to Luke, Mary, “was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.”

            Then, “the angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.  And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus.’”

            The angel comes with good news.  But Mary is confused and the angel needs to reassure her.  “Do not be afraid,” says the angel.

            In the carol, “Go Tell it on the Mountain” the second verse tells us, “When lo! Above the earth, rang out the angel chorus that hailed the baby’s birth,” “the shepherds,” according to the carol, “feared and trembled.”

            The reading from Luke gives us the scene this way:

“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.”

Terrified, by the angel and by the glory of the Lord shinning around them.  Fear and trembling.  Not amazed, thrilled, or inspired by the angel who has come with good news that will bring great joy to all the people, but terrified.

An angel appears to Joseph, too, in the part of the Christmas story recorded in Matthew.

Joseph learns that the woman he loves, the woman he has promised to marry, but hasn’t married yet, is pregnant.  He doesn’t want to raise another man’s child, nor expose Mary to public disgrace, so he plans to divorce her, “quietly” says Matthew. 

            But an angel of the Lord appears to Joseph.  This angel comes in a dream.  And the first words of the angel are, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid.”  In this case, the angel means, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife because this child is not another man’s child but is God incarnate come to save his people from their sins.

            This is good news.  Mary will be provided for, and Joseph’s honor preserved.  It’s strange news, very strange, but also very good news.  The angels in the Christmas story have only good news to deliver, to Mary, to Joseph, to the shepherds, the best news possible.  So why is everyone so frightened?

It may be that the appearance of the angel itself is the frightening thing.

Angels are described in various ways in the Bible, from looking so much like a human being that we don’t recognize them amongst us, to some very strange beings we would definitely notice:  angels completely covered with eyes, angels having four wings or occasionally six, angels sometimes with four faces like a lion, an ox, a human, and an eagle.

Those appearances would be terrifying.  And even if they looked as angels are depicted in renaissance paintings, and in the angels on top of a Christmas tree, the sudden appearance of an otherworldly being in your room, in the sky, or even in a dream, would be frightening.

But something else is frightening, too, about the angel’s visit.  Not how they look, but what they say.

The angel tells Mary that she’s about to become pregnant, but not by her intended husband or by any other man.

The angel tells Joseph that the woman he intends to marry will be the mother of God, and their son, which he will be partly responsible for raising, well save all humanity from sin.

The angel tells the shepherds that the long-promised Messiah has finally arrived, meaning the holy war that will establish God’s kingdom on Earth is about to begin.

This is all good news, presumably.  But it’s frightening, too.  Too much.  Too strange.

This isn’t the life Mary and Joseph had imagined for themselves:  a modest life as a carpenter in Nazareth.  This isn’t the life that the shepherds had imagined for themselves:  that this would be the generation when the Messiah appeared.  If the prophecies were true the entire social order was about to be overturned.  That may be welcome news, but it’s scary, too.

Mary may have wondered what exactly the Lord was about to ask of her, and whether she had an option to say “No.”

We don’t hear news of that magnitude in our lives, fortunately, I’m going to say.  But we do hear news, now and then, that for us personally has that big news affect:  after the news our lives will change, the old order is about to be exchanged for something new.  Maybe not “the world is about to change.”  But certainly “your world is about to change.”  Maybe not human history is about to change.  But suddenly, “your story is about to change.”

Your child comes out to you.  Your job is moving to Nashville.  That stomach pain turns out to be more serious than just indigestion.  COVID hits.  There’s conflict in the church.  There’s a war in Ukraine.  The bottom drops out of the housing market.  You get the part.  You get accepted to your first choice college.  The woman of your dreams says Yes.  The baby arrives.

When it’s news this large it hardly matters whether it’s good news or bad, our response, like the response from Mary and Joseph and the shepherds is like their response.  Fear and trembling.  Resistance.  Grumbling, not gratitude.  

Because who wants our world to change?  Who’s prepared for that new life?  Mary and Joseph were doing OK.   Plans for marriage.  Plans to start a family when they were ready.  Their lives ahead of them.  It isn’t just the angel that’s frightening.  It’s the realization that every part of their lives has just been upended.  And although the angel re-assures them, it’s still Mary and Joseph who have to deal with the change.

The shepherds were OK.  A quiet night under the stars.  The murmuring sheep.  Everything was comfortable.  Everything was cozy.

And then, Wham!  Angels!

So I sympathize.

But I also wonder.

When, in our lives, do we settle for the comfortable and the cozy, when something else, something more, is available?  When do we push away the needful change, because of the anxiety change brings?  When is great, good news, offered to us, and because it comes at us too bright and too loud and we weren’t expecting it, our fear and trembling causes us to push it away?

Yet isn’t the spiritual journey about change?  Aren’t we here because we long for transformation?  We want to be better, to be stronger, to be more healthy, to be more loving and tolerant and compassionate, more creative, more helpful, more beautiful in body and soul, more successful in our material lives and in our soul-work.  We want to know more, to be more involved, to have more joy, be more effective, to know more peace.

Every element on that list calls for us to change.  Yet when change is offered, we refuse.  When the time of transformation is announced, we resist.

And all that we want for ourselves, we want for the world around us, too.  We do want the world to change.  The world needs saving from its sin.  The “worldly din” as the carol says, needs quieting.

We desire change, all the time, everywhere.  We pray for change.  We long for change.  We even work for change.  But when the way of change is finally opened to us, we respond with fear.  It’s too much.  We retreat.

I would be afraid, too, if an angel appeared in my bedroom or in the sky above the Hollywood Hills.  That’s the way of angels.  And they know by now the first words out of their mouths need to be:  “Don’t be afraid.”

But then.  Once the fear response has eased, we need to take a deep breath and listen to what the angel says.  We need to consider, without fear.  To be curious.  To “ponder” as Mary does when Gabriel gives her the news.

Feeling fear is the human response to big news of big change coming.  It’s OK to be fearful of change.  But if we’re too quick to say, “No thank you” and turn away.  We may miss the opportunity for the good change, the good news, we need.

Our instinct is to resist.  To cling to what we have, even if it isn’t bringing us joy.  To cling to the old, even if the new way is coming and we’ll soon be left behind.  Resistance is natural.  But it isn’t the change we should resist.  We should resist the urge to go back to our undisturbed dreams.  We should resist the urge to look away from the sky and back to our familiar sheep.

Joseph and Mary felt justifiably afraid of the new lives offered to them.  They could have followed their fear, gotten their divorce and followed that sad story to its sad conclusion.  Instead, they went to Bethlehem and witnessed the change of history.  Go to Bethlehem.

The shepherds felt justifiably afraid of the angel chorus.  They could have disbelieved and stayed with the sheep. Instead, they said, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened.”

Angels will appear in our lives, too.  Sometimes looking so much like humans we won’t recognize them.  Angels will appear telling us of good news that will bring great joy, if only we see the opportunity and take it, or accept the change and embrace it.  Go to Bethlehem.

            The announcement will make us feel whatever we feel.  That’s OK.  Perhaps fear.  Perhaps gladness.  Perhaps annoyance, or doubt.  “When love is felt or fear is known,” said Max Coots in our opening words.  That’s the sign of an angel appearance.  “When something sacred is sensed in soil or sky.  Mark the time.”  

Find your friends and say, “I had the weirdest dream last night.”  Or ask your friends, “I think I’m going to say yes to this change.  What do you think?”  

            “Respond with thought or prayer or smile or grief.”  And then go.  Trust the scary angel.  Go.  Go.

Go to Bethlehem.