An example
Preacher: Revd Dr Donald MacEwan, University Chaplain
Readings: 1 Timothy 1:12-17; Luke 15:1-10
There will be later occasions in this Chapel and town when we will gather for Services of Thanksgiving for the life of Her Majesty the Queen. Today’s service is different. It is in some ways the Sunday service we would have had anyway – we have kept all the same hymns and most of the choral music. We did not change the readings, drawn from the Lectionary, the list of scriptures set out for each Sunday. But in reflecting on these readings now, I will do so in the light of the life of the late Queen, and the sense of sadness at her death and the end of her reign.
We heard our Principal read two of Jesus’ parables earlier. These are stories which explore belonging, being noticed, being cared for. The first is about a shepherd who notices, out of a flock of a hundred, one sheep not there. One is missing. The shepherd could have let it go – but somehow it mattered to him to keep the flock together, to search for even one who had wandered away. And so he left the 99 and searched for the single sheep who had slipped away, and was all alone. And the shepherd found the lost sheep, and was overjoyed.
The second is about a woman who has lost a coin. It was precious to her, and Jesus may well not have meant a coin for spending in the market, but a decorative coin, like a ring or precious bangle, possibly adorning her hair. She noticed it was gone, and immediately searched for it, lighting a lamp and so spending her resources on fuel, sweeping the floor, looking in the corner, perhaps feeling with her bare hands until – at last – she found it, and was overjoyed.
These are parables of love. Jesus compares God to a shepherd and to a woman who loves: with a love that sees, that knows, that counts and cares, that is aware of us in our uniqueness and our strangeness, our habit of getting lost, even our mysteriousness to ourselves – and offers us a new beginning, a fresh start, a chance to belong again.
It’s worth realising that while Jesus’ stories of shepherd and woman are clearly about the character of God, they are also an image of who we could be to each other: caring, reaching out, bringing people together, creating community. More of that later.
The second reading, from Paul’s letter to Timothy explores this searching care in relation to Paul’s own life – and his own response. He had been a Pharisee, trained in the law, a devout and faithful man. He had learned to love orthodoxy, and was deeply suspicious of what was novel. He thought it dangerous. He was, in fact, like many religious people in any place or time, including ours. He had a particular role – to root out heresy, especially the belief he thought blasphemous that the Jesus was God’s Messiah. And so he was on his way to Damascus to discover if a group of Jesus’ followers there were reaching out to others. But en route, he had a vision of the risen Jesus, and his path changed. He still went to Damascus, but this time as one of the heretics, one of those radical followers of the prophet who’s told those stories of God like a crazy shepherd, like a woman who searched.
By the time he wrote to Timothy, Paul had had years to reflect on this journey. And what he realised was that God had seen something in him worth bringing out. “He judged me faithful… even though I was… a man of violence.” “I received mercy.” “The grace of the Lord overflowed for me.” And so Paul, who had been a byword for suspicion and malice, became an example to others. Open to Christ, and his grace and mercy, Paul learned that he too could guide others in the way of faith and love, encouraging them to experience life in all its fullness, life eternal.
Could I suggest today that Her Majesty the Queen was an example of a Christian life as depicted in Jesus’ parables, and akin to Paul in his public commitment? She was called of course to a particular responsibility, but did so with unflagging energy, perseverance and grace, right up until the end. Hers was a life of caring, reaching out, bringing people together, creating community. We saw this in so many ways.
In her national visits and walkabouts – indeed the one time I saw her was on a walkabout when I was seven years old, during her Silver Jubilee. My Uncle George had presented her with a pen to sign the Visitors’ Book at a visit to the Crookfur Cottage Homes in Glasgow, and I was in the crowd.
We saw her example in her visits to countries across the Commonwealth and beyond, looking and listening intently to the diversity of human cultures, shaking hands sometimes in profounds acts of reconciliation.
We witnessed her example in the countless times she opened local institutions, acknowledging the importance of work and charitable support in people’s lives.
We were aware of her example as patron of hundreds of charities from the Aberdeen Association of Social Service, an Aberdeen-based charity caring for the elderly, those with disabilities and families in poverty, to the Young Women’s Trust, which provides support and learning opportunities to young women facing poverty, discrimination or abuse.
Many experienced her example in those quiet ways in which she listened, offered sympathy, and drew people together.
And we recognised her example in her very person, a symbol of unity in the wondrous diversity in the country and commonwealth, perhaps somewhat like a shepherd, caring for her flock. Indeed, if you look closely at pictures of her with her walking-stick following the Platinum Jubilee this year, you will see it is a shepherd’s crook.
Moreover, the Queen was consistently open about her own deep Christian faith, particularly in her Christmas Day messages, with their focus on the example of Jesus. Here is one sentence from her broadcast in the year 2000: For me, the teachings of Christ and my own personal accountability before God provide a framework in which I try to lead my life.
In her actions and in her words, the Queen was an example of faith and of the sharing of faith with others. It is an example we will sorely miss – but which we have good reason to hope will be found in her son, King Charles.
This is the Opening Service of the academic year and of the Martinmas Semester. For many, classes will begin in earnest tomorrow. We all hope that this will be a time of flourishing: in the privilege of studying, learning and discovering; in extending talents and interests, in sport, the arts, debating, representation and more.
I hope, if you are feeling as lost as that sheep or that coin, you will be found. It is all right to ask the way – like the student of French who asked me on Thursday morning where School 6 was, or the visitor on Market Street on Friday who asked me what the best fish and chip shop was in St Andrews. I’m not going to say from the pulpit which shop I sent him to. But it is also okay to ask the way in deeper things – Sam and I will be glad to listen and help you, as will colleagues in Student Services.
But let me also encourage us all to be people who look out for others. As we recognise our own vulnerability, and give thanks for the grace and mercy strengthening us in our lives, let us reach out to others in love. There will be vulnerable people we encounter this year, struggling with studies, with mental health, with relationships gone awry, with money. Let us be like the woman, like the shepherd, bringing people together, helping them belong, offering practical care, being an example to others that they might have life in all its fullness, life eternal.
King Charles concluded his address on Friday evening with words from Hamlet. Let me draw this reflection to a close with Shakespeare’s words given to Portia when speaking to Shylock in The Merchant of Venice, words which explore mercy – in monarchs, in God, and in us all:
The quality of mercy is not strained,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blessed;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway,
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself,
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore…
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.
END