Blessed be the Lord God of Israel! For he has visited his people, and redeemed them. He has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David ... to enable us to serve him without fear... (Luke 1:68-74)
Try to envision the scene in the hill country around Bethlehem, on the night when Christ was born. In a few words, Luke's gospel paints such a vivid picture of the shepherds out in the open fields. We can see the flicker of campfires; hear the gentle sounds of animals and men at the hour of sleep.
Suddenly, a new element enters the picture. Something descends from the heavens—and it's heading towards them. Struck with terror, the shepherds think: "Is this the end?" Yet their nightmare fears do not come to pass. Instead, they find themselves surrounded by an unearthly light. And from out of this light comes an angelic voice.
"Fear not," is what they hear.
What an unexpected announcement this is. In the context of the time, fear was precisely the emotion to show before a heavenly being. The human relation to the pagan deities was one of fearful subordination, where man tried to appease their anger, or offered sacrifices to buy off their careless whims.
By contrast, the evangelist Luke impresses on us the dawning of a whole new relationship, where people can approach God without fear; where they can stand in His presence and not be afraid. The Nativity itself underscores this point: when the shepherds put aside their fear, and answer the call to draw near to God, what do they find? A newborn child: something to approach with feelings of love, wonder, joy, reverence—anything but terror. The shepherds would never have discovered this beautiful truth, had they permitted fear to have the last word.
Luke gives us three examples of heavenly messengers in the early chapters of his gospel. And each time, the message is the same. The first involves the elderly, childless Zacharias, husband to Elizabeth, and the future father of John the Baptist. "Fear not, Zacharias," an angel says, "for your prayer has been heard" (Lk 1:13). The second angelic appearance is to the Virgin Mary, who feels troubled despite the angel Gabriel's friendly salutation. "Fear not, Mary," he reassures her, "for you have found favor with God" (Lk 1:30).
Finally, we are given the shepherds, who were "sore afraid" to see the glory of the Lord. But again, an angel allays their concerns: "Fear not, for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people" (Lk 2:10).
It's wonderful how Luke weaves the story together from these strands: an elderly couple, praying for a child of their own; an innocent girl, emerging from the shelter of youth to be betrothed in marriage; the rough, rustic shepherds, who make their life among animals in the fields. What might they all have in common? Certainly, as Luke shows us, one common thread is the fear they all felt when they encountered the messenger of God.
And such fear is warranted, is it not? To draw near to God ought to be frightening: something potentially dangerous, one would think. At the very least, it should make a person question his worth, his competence, his fitness to be chosen.
Yet the angelic message tells us something different: Fear not. Do not be afraid. In the largest sense, this should be understood as an attitude for living: Do not live in the shadow of fear. The angel Gabriel tells Mary, "With God, nothing shall be impossible" (Lk 1:37)—and with that kind of assurance, we really have no business allowing fear to dominate our lives.
Yet "Fear not" has a more specific meaning, too, as a motto about drawing near to our Lord: about being drawn into God's plans, and being appointed to contribute to His will.
When one is called by God, it is natural to feel nervous, or unworthy. But the Nativity story shows that when God calls us, such fears are immaterial. We may worry that we're too old (as did Zacharias), or too immature (as did Mary), or too undistinguished in stature (as the shepherds surely felt). But God had called all of them, in spite of these things.
Above all, God sent His only Son, and gave us the gift of salvation, "to enable us to serve Him without fear" (Lk 1:74)—as Zacharias joyfully sang, when he finally accepted his role in God's plans.
In the coming year, our Diocese will explore the way God calls each of us, and any of us, to draw nearer to Him. Our focus will be on the lay ministries of the church, in which every person, from every walk of life, is called to give of himself or herself in the service of our Lord.
Even when God extends such an invitation, however, there are many people in our world who decline to answer. "Am I worthy to do so?" they may ask. "Am I wise enough?" "Do I have enough time?" "Shouldn't I be better prepared or educated for such a role?" These are not unimportant matters; they are the fears we bring to the situation—just as Zacharias, and Mary, and the shepherds brought their own. And yet, the messenger of our Lord—whether speaking as an angel, or as a voice in the heart—says the same thing to us as he said to them: Fear not.
On the night when Christ was born, the people attending him were not exalted figures; they were not confident in their worthiness to be called before God. Still, these were the people on whom our Lord Jesus first smiled. The same will be true for us, when we draw near to our Lord—and discover the joy that dispels all fear.
May this thought encourage us, and embolden our hearts, as we recite our age-old Christmas greeting:
Krisdos dzunav yev haydnetzav! Orhnyal eh haydnootiunun Krisdosee!
Christ is born and revealed! Blessed is the revelation of Christ!
—Archbishop Khajag Barsamian
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