A Stable Government
Preacher: Revd Dr Donald MacEwan, University Chaplain
Readings: Isaiah 9:2, 6-7; Luke 1:26-38; Luke 2:1-14; Matthew 2:1-12
The last time we held the University Carol Service here it was the 68th year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, no-one had heard of a novel coronavirus later called Covid-19, nobody went home to take their exams online, and Boris Johnson was five days from winning a General Election to usher in a period of stable government. What a difference three years make – yet how wonderful to return here for a service whose readings and carols are timeless.
We might think that these are extraordinary times. But you don’t need to be a historian taking the exam on Monday afternoon for MO2008 Scotland, Britain and Empire (c. 1500 – 2000) to know that our world and our lives are always in the midst of stuff happening. The Nativity story which heard earlier is grounded in history, peppered with people’s names, place-names and dates, and shot through with the recognition of where power lies.
In Luke chapter 2, we heard that Jesus was born during the reign of Emperor Augustus – the first Roman emperor. Further, that Augustus had decreed that all the world should be registered, a census of the whole empire to give the sort of information useful for surveillance, for taxation, for control.
In the next verse we learn that Quirinius, who was born near Rome, was the governor of Syria who carried out this census.
Then in Matthew, we hear of another government – that of King Herod, a Jewish ruler but a client of the Roman Empire. And according to Matthew, Herod seeks jealously to be the only king over Jerusalem and the nation.
And so in these timeless stories – the journey to Bethlehem, the shepherds and the Magi, we are absolutely located in time and place, in the politics of who governs – and how.
(I hope this is helpful for anyone taking AN2002 The Roman Empire on Friday.)
It would have been no surprise at the time of the Nativity that it mattered who governed. As the Hebrew people grew in relationship to God – in exile and under better and worse kings at home – a hope had emerged for new leadership. We hear this longing in prophets such as Isaiah: for a ruler anointed by God, who would usher in an era of stability, of prosperity and justice. This ruler was called Messiah, the anointed one. We heard the Principal read perhaps the most significant prophecy about him:
The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light…
For unto us a child is born…
Am I the only one who hears these words not in the steady spoken voice but the glorious music of Handel from his oratorio called The Messiah:
For unto us a child is born,
Unto us a son is given;
And the government shall be upon
his shoulder;
And His name shall be called Wonderful,
Counsellor, the mighty God,
The everlasting Father,
And the Prince of Peace is He
(I should have said – it’s a tradition in this service that I sing something somewhat imperfectly from the pulpit.)
What sort of government is it that shall be upon his shoulder? Verse 7 tells us it will be established with judgment, with justice and in peace. Governance for Stability – as people taking SD4111 know all about – or will do by Thursday.
This is a hope which carries down the centuries as we heard in the opening choral work of the service, The Stem of Jesse by Owain Park:
With righteousness shall he judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.
Surely that is echoed in the hearts of people in Russia, Afghanistan, Iran and elsewhere – and closer to home over these past three years. I certainly heard it expressed in words and symbols, in the powerful vigils for Ukraine and Iran we held, and in standing together on the West Sands. It sounds like a contemporary message during a Cost of Living Crisis. And I know it motivates many of us for climate justice – indeed a student who was participating at Cop 27 in Egypt read one of the lessons in this service.
Christians believe that this hope – for a Messiah bringing peace and justice – has been fulfilled in Jesus Christ. The Gospel narratives are convinced that this human child, vulnerable, helpless, is to be a ruler.
As we heard Gabriel say to Mary – and why shouldn’t Welsh be the language of angels? –
the Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob for ever.
Later, another angel said to the shepherds:
to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord… before promising peace on earth.
The Magi came to Jerusalem seeking the king of the Jews, and then found him in Bethlehem, where they knelt before him with offerings for a Messiah.
And so it’s clear why Christians believe that the hope for a Messiah has been fulfilled in Jesus: for the Christmas story tells us so.
So where is this ruler Jesus? Where is his government? How do his ministers exert his authority? What are his armies to enforce his rule?
Well, some Christian societies have taken this route: forms of theocracy from Rome to Geneva, from Byzantium to Florence. But it is usually a disaster, as I’m sure you know if you’re preparing for IR3038 Christianity and World Politics for Monday the 12th. Indeed, when the Roman Empire adopted Christianity as the imperial religion in the 4th Century it was arguably the worst thing that could have happened to faith in the Messiah, in this allegiance with power.
Theocracy is also a wilful misreading of the New Testament. For what does the Messiah look like? Born to an obscure young woman from an insignificant village on the edge of Empire, born with questionable parentage, born not in a palace or even a bed – but in a cave, a barn, a cow-shed. Truly this was the beginning of a stable government. Tintoretto in the 16th Century painted the scene on the cover of the order of service, and it still hangs in the Scuola Grande di San Rocco, in Venice. His stable may, unusually, have two storeys, a stone wall, and a beautiful orange light coming through the dilapidated roof. But it is a stable – a place for animals – all the same. Born in a stable, Jesus was never really part of the inn crowd.
I know that finding accommodation in St Andrews has never been harder. But I hope no unscrupulous landlords have offered a garden shed to desperate students – for a mere £950 per month per person… plus bills.
Our carols capture the humility of Jesus’ birthplace:
a lowly cattle-shed;
a stable place sufficed/ the Lord God almighty;
They found him in a manger/
where oxen feed on hay.
This is not going to be another government like Augustus, Quirinius and Herod. Jesus does not appear on any Rich List, nor trade his celebrity for a lucrative second career. And Matthew understands this: he quotes the prophecy that this coming ruler will shepherd his people. A shepherd who knows his flock, goes with them where they go, knows them by number, and seeks out those who are lost. A shepherd born in a place for animals, and visited that night by more humble shepherds.
This is no lording over, but ruling by love. Remember the names given by Isaiah, set so memorably by Handel: not only The Mighty God, but The Prince of Peace. His government, born in a stable, is of peace.
I can guess what you’re thinking – for I am too. What peace?
As we sang earlier:
Beneath the angels’ hymn have rolled
two thousand years of wrong;
and warring humankind hears not
the love-song which they bring.
And yet, while acknowledging all the woes of sin and strife, all the rubbish people face from Kyiv to Kirkcaldy, why let the negative be all we see? Countless people have followed this Prince of Peace in doing all they can to make his reign real in their lives and societies, our lives and societies. We can and do make a difference fostering and campaigning for the reign of justice, light and peace.
And over the past three years, while we could not gather here, we cared for each other during the pandemic, we gave to charity and foodbanks, we witnessed extraordinary courage in Minsk, in Mariupol, in Mashad, Iran, and some have opened their homes to people seeking refuge. Is this not how the stable’s light is spread?
And you may also be thinking: what about peace in my life? When will that trickle down to me? I know something of the troubles students and others have in finding peace. Some of you have found your way to my office or laptop screen to share this in confidence – and also to Sam, Bill and honorary chaplains. And you’ve laid out how hard it is to be at peace in the midst of the stuff that happens: deadlines, anxiety, friendships turning sour, family conflict, illness, loneliness, in trouble with discipline, relationship stress, judging yourself, the loss of someone significant in your life, and much more. But my experience with people shows me that peace does come – maybe not like a flicking of a switch, more like the flickering of a candle. But it does come – in being heard, by me or by friends, by family. In sharing a meal with friends. In giving and receiving a friendly message. In finding people who will sit with you in the library, and will not let you procrastinate any longer. In a walk on the East Sands, a bracing dip off the Castle Sands, a hug on the West Sands, a kiss anywhere.
This is the opposite of theocracy or any quick-fix religion. It is in fact the only real way that Christ’s promise of peace and justice can come – soul by soul and silently – as we share the light from the stable as best we can.
Let me wish you a peaceful Christmas, and a stable new year.
END