Summarize this content to 2000 words in 6 paragraphs in Arabic The little season of Christmastide lasts 12 days, until Epiphany on January 6, when the Christian tradition celebrates the visitation of the three kings to the newborn Jesus. Most of us use this Christmas week to visit family, eat holiday leftovers or try to figure out how to set up our children’s complicated new toys. But one of the things I love about Christmastide is that it’s a season full of biblical stories in which the divine spirit delivers unexpected but life-changing news to people at all levels of society. I’ve always appreciated the part of the story that appears only in the Book of Luke, one of the four Gospels. According to this narrative, the shepherds are lying in the fields tending their flock when an angel appears and tells them about the birth of a baby. It’s a part of the tale that most of us are familiar with. Many a child has played the role of a lowly shepherd in a school or community Nativity play. But I’ve been trying to imagine these events from the perspective of the shepherds and wondering what this chapter of Christmas could offer us. Especially as the year ends and we have a few days for reflection and rest. I found myself surprised by the mid-18th-century painting “The Angel Appearing to the Shepherds” by French-born artist Philip James de Loutherbourg, which is housed at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford. A small group of shepherds and animals are resting on a rocky patch of earth in the middle of open and uncultivated land. The sky is full of dark clouds, except for an opening where golden light filters through to the figures below. While the other men are on the ground in various states of fear, sleep or seeming bewilderment, the shepherd in the centre of the work stands as if compelled by the light. With his arms straightened, his clasped hands resting in front of him, his right leg extended slightly behind him, his body conveys a sense of awe. There is a look of adoration on his face. I have come across few other versions of this scene in which a shepherd is shown to be so receptive to the angel, rather than afraid or asleep.It made me wonder what I would do if I had an encounter with the divine, bearing a message of “good news” for all the world. At first, I was tempted to dismiss this thought. But as I sat quietly looking at the painting, I realised what else was different, and deeply appealing to me, about this work compared with many others on the same theme: there is no visible image of an angel. Its presence is manifested in the glorious glow of the sky. This led me to a thread of questions worth pondering at this time of year. Would a stronger relationship with the natural world offer more opportunities for spiritual, or even divine, encounters? And if so, is there an element of spiritual health at stake in the increasing ways we as societies distance ourselves from the natural world? There is a lot of narrative embellishment in “The Adoration of the Shepherds” by the 17th-century Italian artist Domenichino, but I think it offers us different ways to consider our own lives. Spotlighted in the centre of the frame are Mary, the baby Jesus and three angels. Mary is pulling back Jesus’s swaddling clothes to reveal the child fully to the visiting shepherds, who surround the cradle of hay. One on the left blows his bagpipes, four kneel in the right-hand corner of the image and two stand overlooking the scene from the right of the frame. In the background, we see Joseph carrying a stack of hay. Something I keep thinking about is why, in the Nativity story, the angels choose to inform the shepherds about the birth first, before they tell the wise men. In our society, important news tends to be shared first with those in significant or high-profile positions, as it has been throughout history. So it’s notable that in the Christmas story it is a group of “lowly” shepherds who are considered important enough to receive the news before others. There is also something to be said about this message of great worth being imparted to people whose life patterns kept them close to the natural world, close to the land and to animals. We often think of these shepherds as simply roaming about with a flock of sheep. But, given the nature of their work protecting sheep from predatory animals, they would presumably have had to be brave, skilled and alert to their wider environment. What all this suggests to me is that the angel chose to share the news first with people who were not settled into a comfort zone in life, who would be ready to move when necessary, and who were used to paying attention. It makes me wonder how often we create narratives about the value of others in our societies and make assumptions not only about their experiences but also about what they could offer the world. In those times, shepherds would have been seen as being at the lower end of the social structure. Who would be the equivalent in our world today?The other part about this painting that strikes me is that the shepherds have brought people with them, even children — they have thought to invite others to share in the journey and the gift. I wonder how many of us feel as if we have had spiritual encounters of some kind that seem too extraordinary to be believed or shared. We do not discuss the possibility of such things in casual or even in private conversation. But that doesn’t mean people in our circles haven’t had such experiences. What could we learn from one another if we were more open to talking about spiritual experiences or our ideas about spirituality? I love the tenderness in the 16th-century painting “Adoration of the Shepherds” by the Italian Renaissance painter Lorenzo Lotto. The stark contrast between the darkened room and the vibrant colours gives the work an austere, stately atmosphere. It is as if the painting is celebrating both the birth of Christ and his death in years to come. Mary wears a cobalt blue cape, some of which she has spread under the baby Jesus. The blue picks up the colour of the sky visible through the windows at the back of the painting, and the translucent light blue of the angels’ wings and clothing in the right background. Two shepherds, dressed in what must be their finest garments, look down at the baby while presenting him with a lamb, itself symbolic of Jesus’s death. But with all the colour and richness, my eyes are drawn to the encounter between Jesus and the lamb. Jesus reaches his little hands to cup the face of the lamb, while the lamb in return gazes down at the baby. It is an intimate moment, and I am struck by two things. First, that the shepherds, by bringing the lamb, are the ones that help make this moment possible. They are the gift givers who in turn give us the viewer the gift of witnessing this encounter. And second, I am struck by a painting that invites us to pay our utmost attention to adoring the two most vulnerable living creatures in the image. In the world today it feels as if we are more determined to ignore the vulnerable than to attend to them, whether they are children, animals or those in tenuous situations. This entire image represents a meeting of some of the most vulnerable or marginalised in society: the woman who was pregnant out of wedlock, the poor holy family, the infant Jesus, the lamb, the farm animals, and the shepherds who lived in the open wilderness. Regardless of what we may think of social hierarchies, or even our stance on religion, there’s something reassuring about a story in which a motley and diverse group of people, each of whom the world may deem inconsequential, change the world for the better. 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