shepherd of the people

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, magi from the east came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star in the east and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him, and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah,

for from you shall come a ruler

who is to shepherd my people Israel.’ ” (Matthew 2:1-6)

In the history of the churches three important obstacles to overcome have been:

1. in ancient times, the incarnation

2. in medieval times, the crucifixion

3. in modern times, the resurrection.

In modern times many rational or sceptical minds have balked at the idea that a person could be raised from the dead. Not reincarnated, and not the resuscitation of a corpse, but resurrected. A problem for Easter preachers.

A problem for Good Friday pastors, at least in the West, has been the overwhelmingly abhorrent image of a crucified god, of the one who was and is and is to come fastened to a cross. And then of course its necessity becomes the new object of attention.

The ancient Mediterranean world had its problem with the feast of the Nativity, and the idea of incarnation. That in one unique moment into human history precipitously from above the one true and living God would blast into history leaving no remainder left over. In him the fullness of God was pleased to dwell. And in no other.

Of course in all these periods of history, modern, medieval, and ancient, there was another problem to be overcome.

Jesus is Lord. And there is no other.

Caesar is not Lord. No earthly sovereign can be an acceptable substitute for the ultimate claims of Christ.

He came out of nowhere, if you weren’t listening. If you were a Jew, or a God-fearing Gentile, he was long expected, and for some long feared. 

Jesus’ birth was as Matthew reminds us the fulfillment of the promise of ages. This was the king of kings, the one true scion of David’s lineage, who would rule forever. 

In ancient times, as  in the Iliad with its repeated epithet, “shepherd of his people”, applied to Hector, Agamemon, and Nestor, kings were supposed to be as faithful protectors and providers as a good shepherd was of a flock. David was called from the herds to the halls of kingship.

And so the long expected Jesus was anticipated to be the fulfillment of messianic prophecy, and a champion in the fashion of David and other warrior kings. He would liberate his people. 

But not like that. Perhaps a hint could be found in the humility of his birth. Sure, birth stories are origin stories, verification of our impression of the later adult. Mary Queen of Scots gave birth in a small panelled room in Edinburgh’s hilltop castle to a child who would become James VI of Scotland and I of England. Jenny Jerome Churchill gave birth to Winston Spencer Churchill in a not much larger room on the ground floor near the library in Blenheim Palace. And so the careers of magnificence began.

In a castle. In a place. Not in a manger. Or a shepherd’s cave. Or in a stable. Or a nearby inn. Or a guestroom in an overcrowded family home. 

Matthew in his story of the magi and their gifts provides a heralding fit for a king. Nobody got it  but Herod. 

Where is he who is born to be king of the Jews? “A ruler who is to shepherd my people.”

This was not a happy portent for Herod Antipas, son of a greater Herod, a client-king enthroned at the sufferance and for the service of Rome, and the emperor across the sea whose mighty hand could and would crush any rebellion coming from Jerusalem.

And Jesus was a bigger threat than that. He was more than a king like any other. He was indeed a king unlike any other. We've got the concept of kingship wrong if we think some earthly ruler fits the bill.

We are all stewards, from our moment of greatest power to our time of summary weakness. We share in the kingship of Christ in our care for his people. Sometimes it is our turn, in line at the supermarket, on the witness stand in court, in the privacy of voting, or in some greater public act. Our common humanity is our kingship. We share in that sovereignty as we are sovereign in the freedom of our acts and choices.

O little town of Bethlehem, birthplace of the greatest hero of antiquity, who was no hero in the mythic mode, but a savior and shepherd, servant sacrificial in love and obedience, fierce defender of the innocent.

Redeemer. Shepherd of the people.

JRL+