I'm pretty sure Daniel Bonnell wants your eye to be drawn to the astonishing sweep of the angelic host, but I love looking at those two shepherds.
Their arms are outstretched, their heads have lolled back, they are lost in exultation and joy.
To be sure, the appearance of a sky-full of celestial beings would have been terrifying. And the first thing the angel has to say is, "Do not be afraid."
But shepherds were tough guys. They slept rough, needing to stay beside their flocks on the hills well outside human society. They had to contend with thieves and wolves, wind and cold and baking heat. They were wild men, hardened, practical, not easily ruffled.
As a result, they were not usually trusted by the general population. In fact, their reputations as raconteurs and charlatans meant their testimony was often considered inadmissible in a court of law. How strange that God should choose so unworthy an audience to announce the birth of the Messiah.
But having allayed their fears, the angel continues, "I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people."
Wily shepherds, ready for anything, have never seen anything like this. Who would believe that they should receive so wonderful a message, so lavishly presented! Great joy? Of course, a message of great joy would be received gleefully by outliers like shepherds. They have nothing, they are outcasts, despised and rejected by society. When they hear, "Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord," they know they too are included in his kingdom.
On this, the third Sunday in Advent, we light a rose-colored candle rather than the usual purple one. The intention is to depict the delight, the sheer wonder of this moment.
Look again at those blissed out shepherds in Bonnell's painting.
Can you sense their joy?
Can we fully appreciate the excitement experienced by the excluded when a genuine offer of inclusion is presented to them?