Shepherds gathered round a fire, warming themselves on a cold clear winter's night. Winged angels in flowing white gowns float in the starriest of skies. A bright shining star, breaking the power of night hangs over the little village of Bethlehem in the distance. We can see the child with sparkling eyes cooing in the manger, the smell of hay, and the quiet munching of several peaceful farm animals. This is scene we see in our minds.

But this scene leaves out a key word that haunts this night: fear. Luke writes about fear in the night; the shepherds fear and a birth, Matthew relates, that will stir the fear of Herod so profoundly that he will murder the sons of Bethlehem.

The Shepherds certainly knew fear. They were nearly outcasts in their society. So untrustworthy were they judged to be that they were not allowed to testify in court. They lived under Roman occupation. Troublemakers quickly found their way to the torturers, and many suffered a naked death on the cross. It was not a Christmas card world for the shepherds.

Then an angel appeared in the night sky. Then suddenly more of these shining, magnificent beings appeared in night sky over the hills near Bethlehem. Such an appearance was dazzling and terrifying (Shock and awe in our current vernacular). The shepherds, says Luke, were "filled with fear."

And what are the angel's first words to the shepherds? They are among the most important, if most ignored, found anywhere in the Bible: "Be not afraid." These words the angel said to Mary when her pregnancy began, and again to Joseph when he hesitated to marry a woman who had become pregnant before the wedding. Several times, Jesus said the same thing to his disciples, "Be not afraid."

Fear cripples our response to those around us, numbing us to their needs, blinding us to our brothers and sisters, as children of God no less than ourselves. It is fear that drives some to dominate others, and fear that forces others into submission. "The root of war," said Thomas Merton, "is fear."

We have made the Christmas angel into an ornament and the choir of angels into a chorus line. We eat, drink and sing with bucolic images, enjoying a brief vacation, tranquilized from our fears. But Christmas is not meant to be a time to evade our fears but to wrest them from the powerful grip they have on our lives.

Christmas is our time to stand with the shepherds, and open ourselves to that angelic invitation to disarmament: to let down our fears, take off the helmet, breastplate and shield; drop the (sword) or gun that too often ends up in our hand. Once freed, we are no longer obliged to hate our enemies. Instead, we might begin to obey our Lord's command to love our enemies. We might visit them, learn their names, read their books and see their films, pray in their churches, synagogues, and mosques. We might at last see them as human beings, not labels; as children of God; not things to fear. A spiritual master asked his disciples on day, "How can you know when night has ended and the day has begun? One disciple said, "When you can tell the difference between a sheep and a dog?" "No," said the master. Another disciple asked, "Is it when you can see the difference between an olive tree and a fig tree?" "It is the moment, when any person walks over the hill, and you know that stranger is your brother or sister. Until then, no matter how bright the sun shines, it is still the night."