Christ plays in ten thousand places,” Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote. Those ten thousand places are not just “in the features of men’s faces.” They are places stitched into the world of Scripture in images and metaphors, as well as in the pulsing life of the wild world that everywhere speaks of God (Ps. 19:1–4; Rom. 1:20). Look closely, and you can see the glory and majesty of Christ anywhere, because his Lordship is everywhere—even in a single thread of wool. I mean that: you can see salvation in a sheep’s coat if you stare long enough.
Wool in the Old Testament
The wool of lambs has an ancient place in the Old Testament. It may have been present in the first animal sacrifice, as clothing for Adam and Eve after sin stripped them of their dignity. The Hebrew word for “skin” in Genesis 3:21 (עוֹר, ore) referred to various animal skins. Perhaps it was a lamb’s, perhaps not. But no matter the animal, it cost something precious to cover up shame and atone for sin. That's a theme that comes forward in Genesis 22, where Abraham claims that God will provide a lamb for the burnt offering (22:8), even if that lamb had to be his own son.
Wool itself appears early on in Scripture as a staple fabric (Lev. 13:47). Sheep were sheared, and their outer coverings were used to weave together thread for clothing, blankets, or tents. And for good reasons. Wool is a fibrous, exterior coating for the insulation of the animal. By trapping hot air between its fibers, wool kept sheep warm on cold Mediterranean nights, where the temperature could drop into the 30s (Fahrenheit); and it kept them cool during the summer days by wicking moisture away from their skin. Wool can also absorb a significant amount of water before losing any of its insulating properties, which means it protects sheep from harsh weather. In short, wool takes care of heating, cooling, and protection from the elements.
Shepherds were stewards of coverings.
But that wool, during the hottest summer months, was removed from sheep and put elsewhere. When sheep were sheared, what was once a covering for the animal became a covering for someone else. A transfer took place: other humans and their communal spaces were wrapped by what once blanketed the skin of an animal. What cared for one creature now cared for another. And that was of great value. That’s why there was an early practice of shepherding, taking care of the animals that cared for the people with their coverings. We see this in the time of the patriarchs. Abram, Jacob, and Moses were all shepherds at one time, as was David. In light of the value of wool, shepherds were not just caring for the animals but also caring for the coverings that came from them. Shepherds were stewards of coverings.
Wool as a Symbol
Given its prevalence in Israelite culture, it’s not surprising that wool also became a symbol, often because of its color. It was creamy white before being dyed for particular uses. That natural white brightened as the wool was left out in the sun to bleach. Imagine riding into a rural village on sheep shearing day: pelts of wool laid out in the blinding sun, almost glowing by reflecting all the wavelengths of light back toward the sun. It’s an image of peace and purity, reminiscent of white sheets floating from a clothesline in the summer sun. That’s what Isaiah picks up on when he writes by the Spirit to a rebellious people—the purity of blindingly bright, sun-bleached wool. “Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa. 1:18). The wool of sheep, stewarded by shepherds, became a symbol for the purity of a God-forgiven soul.
But the symbolism rose to even greater heights. The Hebrew word for wool (צֶמֶר, tseh'-mer) occurs in another prophet’s writing: Daniel. He uses the word to describe the hair of someone he calls “the Ancient of Days.” In a vision, he writes, “As I looked, thrones were placed, and the Ancient of Days took his seat; his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool [כַּעֲמַ֣ר נְקֵ֔א, ka-amar neqe]; his throne was fiery flames; its wheels were burning fire” (Dan. 7:9). Quite the image. The word for “pure” (נְקֵ֔א, neqe), comes from a root meaning “innocent or blameless.” Iain Duguid understands this as “a symbol of purity and perhaps of the wisdom that comes with great age” (Daniel, 115). It’s clear that this figure represents God himself—the only one “who has the wisdom to sort out right from wrong, the purity to choose the right, and the power to enforce his judgments” (115).
Wool symbolizes the potency of purity.
Isaiah sees a people clothed in sun-bleached wool, purified by a forgiving and sanctifying God. Daniel would have those same people bowing before a figure crowned with pure wool. In both cases, wool symbolizes the potency of purity. The covering for a creature in the lowly fields makes its way to the very highest symbolic peak in the universe: divine purity.
Enter the Shepherds
It’s ironic that those who cared for the sheep, whose wool symbolized this purity, were anything but pure. But maybe instead of being ironic, it’s evangelistic. Shepherds were commonly seen in Israelite culture as unclean outsiders. Some commentators even list shepherding as a profession open to criminals and ruffians. At the very least, shepherding was not for the social elite. It was a rough and often dangerous job. Those who did the job were, in today’s tongue, “just built different.” For example, in his shepherding days, David apparently chased down lions and bears whenever they carried off one of his sheep (1 Sam. 17:34)! It’s not routine behavior for a human being to pursue wild creatures with that much muscle and claw. But David, like every good shepherd, cared fiercely for the animals he protected and the wool that came from them. He wouldn’t give up a lamb just because a lion was hungry. He was insanely devoted, likely the result of having a heart after the very heart of God (1 Sam. 13:14; see also Jer. 3:15).
The shepherds we meet in the Christmas story come from that line of wild, rough, and insanely devoted stewards of wool—the symbol of divinely bestowed purity. They likely even wore garments woven from the fibers of the creatures they looked after. They knew they needed a covering for the cold dark nights.
It’s those who know they have nothing to offer that are in a perfect place to receive everything God has to give.
But did they also have an awareness that they needed the very thing their garments symbolized? Paul says that those who don’t believe in Christ have a conscience that “also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them” (Rom. 2:15). At the heart level, these shepherds must have known their need for divine help. But unlike others who had an easier time pretending they were okay on their own, these shepherds would have had a keen sense of their status and need. They knew they were lowly. And it’s the lowly whom God calls (Isa. 57:15). Why? Because it’s the lowly who know they need a covering, even as they care for the coverings of others. It’s those who know they have nothing to offer that are in a perfect place to receive everything God has to give. Tim Keller once said of the gospel, “All you need is nothing, but not everyone has it.” In the Christmas story, the shepherds have nothing. And so the shepherds are called (Luke 2:8–14).
Enter Jesus
But what of Jesus, whom the Christmas story is all about? What has sheep’s wool to do with the Word of God in the flesh? We’ve seen how wool became a symbol. As we’ll see momentarily, even shepherdry became a symbol (cf. John 10:11–18). But Edmund Clowney said, “Jesus Christ does not come to be a symbol.” Jesus Christ comes as the referent—the reality to which all symbolism points. Wool was a covering for human bodies; Christ is the covering for human souls (Rom. 13:14). Wool was the symbol for purity; Christ came to make us pure, and to make all things pure for us (Tit. 1:15). Wool symbolized the crown of God; Christ wore two crowns—one of thorns and one of glory (Matt. 27:29; Heb. 2:7).
The beauty of Christmas lies in the true wool, the wool of the Word, who also happens to be the shepherd who lays his own body down as a covering for human sin.
There in the manger, the shepherds found no symbol. They found an infant—the flesh and blood embodiment of purity, the one whose blood would be their covering, the one who would wear the crown. The infant was not just the promised offspring of Eve, but the reigning King over Adam and David. In the trough, they found the original referent of all the symbols. The lowly shepherds were called to “the good shepherd”; those who watched over coverings in the fields traveled to the one who became a covering for his people. The beauty of Christmas lies in the true wool, the wool of the Word, who also happens to be the shepherd who lays his own body down as a covering for human sin.
11 I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12 He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13 He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. 16 And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. 17 For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. 18 No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.” (John 10:11–18)
The one the lowly shepherds found that night in the manger was both shepherd and sheep, caretaker and covering. The glory and majesty of Christ lies in his self-giving: offering his shepherd-self as a sacrificial sheep, giving his own wool to cover a multitude of sins.
If we have the eyes to see it, Advent is the season of wool. It is a time of warming and protecting from God’s own self-sacrifice. And that is why it is a time of “peace on earth.” Where would the world be without the wool of God?
Contributors:
- Pierce Taylor Hibbs
- David B. Garner
- Sinclair Ferguson
- Harry L. Reeder III
- Tim Keller
- Edmund Clowney
- John Murray
- E.J. Young
- James Ussher
- St. Augustine