C ity folk never understand the cold of the night. They sleep soundly, nestled all together in all their houses … they never know the way the water can freeze in the water skins while you keep watch in the dark.

It’s a lonely work, staying with your flock at night … trying to just let the cold pass through you, and being thankful that at least it lets you forget how hungry you are.

The cities are a place for politicians and bankers, really. I’ve never paid them much mind. Any banker knows I’ve never had an extra coin to save, and so, never met a politician with an extra moment to listen. Living as we do, occupied by the Roman empire, I’ve sometimes thought that doing the work we do: staying out in the fields, sleeping outside, refusing to play all the games of the city, the politics, the empire… it’s almost our way of protesting.

But then, tonight: the light, the sound …

I once heard a priest blow a crooked horn taken from a goat outside the temple. It was loud, but thin and frail. Tonight, the sound was like that from 10 thousand horns. It was coming from everywhere, huge and frightening. I thought I was going to die.

And then, a voice: “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 Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:10-12, NRSV)

It doesn’t make any sense … My grandparents told stories of the Messiah. The one who would restore our country to strength. The one who could lead us and free us; who could conquer even the unconquerable, even Rome. What could the messiah have to do with some baby who has even less than us, and is sleeping out in a stable?

Yet, when you’ve seen what I’ve seen tonight, you have to wonder. Maybe there could be “joy for ALL the people.” Not just emperors, not just Romans, not just the high-up city folk … all of us. Maybe it could start with a child sleeping in the cold, amongst the animals, just like us. Just like a shepherd.

And so, my friends and I … we are going to Bethlehem. We are going to the city to see if a baby can be good news for us: the ones who sleep outside, who wait and watch in the cold and dark, the poor, the left out … To see if a night filled with light and sound can bring days of warmth, of joy, of freedom and of peace.

THE REV. GEOFF PARKER is associate pastor of First Parish Church, UCC, in Brunswick.