And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.—ST. LUKE ii. 13, 14.
I. (1.) The Birth of Jesus is the first subject which comes before us in this chapter. That He was born at Nazareth, not, as St. Luke says, at Bethlehem, is the opinion of most who suppose the Evangelists to be the biographers of a great and favourite Teacher, an eminent Galilean Reformer. It is difficult to understand how they could arrive at any other conclusion. If Jesus was not a King, in any real sense of the word, the notion that He was born in the city of David must have been a fancy of those who supposed Him to possess that honour. There is no need of argument to prove that the two beliefs stand or fall together. The attempt to sustain the credit of the place when that which gives it all its fitness is gone must be a futile one. Therefore, I conceive that modern critics may reckon upon an easy triumph over those who hold the language and adopt the mode of thinking which prevails among us. If we separate the Saviour from the King, or use that last title in some metaphorical sense—even though we suppose it may acquire a real sense in some future age—we must not be surprised if other men draw the natural inference from such premises; if, the substance of the evangelical message having disappeared, they say that its accidents cannot remain. I apprehend it is better on all accounts that Nazareth should receive the honour heretofore bestowed on Bethlehem, unless we confess the reason for which it was bestowed. We shall sink into a poor rabbinical habit of mind if we ground our opinion that Jesus was the Christ upon the concurrence of his birthplace with some supposed prediction. St. John has taught us, in his seventh chapter, to what that slavish feeling about the letter of a prophecy leads, when its purpose has been overlooked. The officers who were sent by the chief priests to take Jesus, came back without Him, saying, ‘Never man spake like this man. The Pharisees could not listen to such poor evidence; ’Out of Galilee ariseth no prophet,’ was an all-satisfactory reason why they should not listen to Him who was called a Galilean. Jesus Himself never appealed to His birth at Bethlehem as any proof of His mission. Those who would not receive Him for what He did and for what He was, could not have received Him if the proofs of His descent from David had been ever so overwhelming.
A mere legend, doubtless, this account of the journey to Bethlehem, and the birth at Bethlehem, must be, if Jesus were not the Person whom the preachers of the Gospel proclaimed Him to be, if He were not the King whose appearing fulfilled the expectation of previous ages and explained their history. And yet, even readers who have wholly cast off the notion that He was this, must, I think, discover something curiously simple, curiously unlike the style of ordinary legends, in such a record as this:—
‘And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger: because there was no room for them in the inn.’
There is no grand reason, you see, given why Mary and Joseph should go to Judea. The angel who is said to have announced the coming birth does not appear again to tell them that they must travel, since otherwise the Son of David will not be connected with His ancestral dwelling-place. They go because every one else is going. A decree of the Caesar obliges the man to register himself in the village, whatever it is, to which he belongs. It may be an awkward contrivance—as a modern writer says it is—to make the conception of royalty fit with the facts. Assuredly the critic, or any ingenious man in this day, could have invented a much better tale. And if forgers of that day had, as he supposes, an unlimited command of supernatural incidents, these poor peasants might have been transported by any kind of celestial machinery to the spot in which they were required to be. Nor can we doubt that a Frenchman now, or an Oriental then, would have introduced such an event with becoming pomp. If it was part of the scheme that the birth should be humble, he would have taken pains that we should observe that part of it. There would have been starts of surprise, exclamations at the stooping of the Highest of all to the lowest place. Here is nothing of the kind. Events, the belief of which has affected all the art and speculation of the most civilised nations in the modern world, are recorded in fewer words, with less effort, than an ordinary historian, or the writer of a newspaper, would deem suitable to the account of the most trivial transaction. Such marvellous associations have clung for centuries to these verses, that it is hard to realise how absolutely naked they are of all ornament. We are obliged to read them again and again to assure ourselves that they really do set forth what we call the great miracle of the world.
If, on the other hand, the mind of the Evangelist was possessed by the conviction that he was not recording a miracle which had interrupted the course of history, and deranged the order of human life, but was telling of a divine act which explained the course of history and restored the order of human life, one can very well account for his calmness; if that conviction was a true one, we might account for the impression which his brief sentences have made on later ages. That the poll tax of the first Emperors should be the instrument of bringing forth the King before whom the Caesars were to bow, would then seem one of those incidents in the drama of the universe which discover a God who is not suddenly interfering to untie knots that are too difficult for human hands, but who is directing all the course of the action, from the beginning to the catastrophe; not crushing the wills of the persons in the drama, but leading them on, by methods which we cannot see or conjecture, to fill their places in it. And the birth in the manger would be felt, not as an embellishment of the narrative, but as a part of the revelation. The King, who proves His title and His divinity by stooping to the lowest condition of His subjects, is brought into direct contrast with him who had risen by intrigues, proscriptions, and the overthrow of an ancient order, to be hailed as the Deliverer and highest God of the earth.
(2.) Taking the first words in this sense, Christendom has adopted that which follows as the true commentary upon them.
‘And there were in the same country shepherds abiding on the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.’
The question concerning these Gospels is frequently set before us in this way. Are we to go on believing in a supernatural record, when we might reduce it to nature and common sense by leaving out certain incidents which have been thrown in to give it greater effect? Why, for instance, not regard this old story of the shepherds, however much beauty there may be in it, however much it may have taken hold of human hearts, as merely one of the Arcadian stories which are to be found in other countries of the world as well as Judea; all having, no doubt, a certain value; all, in some degree, serving to refine and adorn human nature?
My answer is this. The supernatural did, as you say, cleave to all the stories of the ancient world. To rob them of their supernatural element is to destroy them. And no part of these stories is so striking, or has had so much influence over men, as that which speaks of higher beings descending to hold intercourse with the lower, to teach them and to do them good. These stories bear a witness to the hearts of men everywhere of that which they need, in One whom they can reverence and trust, be He ever so far above them. It is a witness also that, without beings above them whom they could reverence and trust, their lives must be poor and dreary. It is equally true, that men at a certain time began to think, ‘We have invented these stories for ourselves; we have, in fact, created our gods.’ This conviction had spread widely, had penetrated deeply in the days of Augustus Caesar.
It was expressed or muttered by philosophers; it was felt by the priests who were performing the services of the gods, and labouring to uphold their reputation. And at last comes the result of the opinion. A man, a general of armies, is recognised as the real King of kings and Lord of lords. The gods are under the protection of the Emperors. There you have the supernatural in one of its senses: a divine machinery grounded on a human foundation, upholding a human tyranny. I demand, Is there any other sense of the supernatural? Is there that sense of it which all those legends you speak of betoken? If that is merely an imagination, this Roman Empire is the exposure of the imagination. It adopts all the old fictions of the world into itself; it uses them all in its own service. You do not lose the supernatural, you have it everywhere, conscious of its own falsehood, always begetting fresh falsehoods. If that other sense pointed to a truth, has the truth come forth? Has the Divine shewn itself to be not the mere invention of humanity, but the ground of humanity? Take the instance before us. Suppose we could have, not Arcadian shepherds, but Jewish shepherds, men of the people, with all their feelings, and suffering, and ignorance. Suppose it were announced to them that a King was actually born in the City of David, who was not to mix with them for a few hours or days, but who was to establish Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, good will to men; that is to say, who was to be exactly the reverse of the human divinity. Suppose this; you would have exactly what has been the belief of Christendom, what vindicates and purifies the dreams of heathens. Shall we not be flooded with legends, with legends serving to support an unnatural tyranny by supernatural help, if we let this belief go? If we hold it fast, if we enter into it much more thoroughly than we have ever entered into it, may we not banish the legends, and shake the tyranny?
II. The songs of Zacharias and of Mary exhibited a contrast between the old world and the new, on which I supposed that St. Luke would especially like to dwell. The story of our Lord’s circumcision and of the purification of the Virgin, which is found only in this Gospel, has, I conceive, a similar import.
‘And when eight days were accomplished for the circumcising of the child, his name was called Jesus, which was so named of the angel before he was conceived in the womb. And when the days of her purification according to the law of Moses were accomplished, they brought him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord: (As it is written in the law of the Lord, Every male that openeth the womb shall be called holy to the Lord:) And to offer a sacrifice according to that which is said in the law of the Lord, A pair of turtle-doves, or two young pigeons.’
Here is a punctual compliance with all the terms and conditions of the Law. It is assumed by the other Evangelists: it is carefully noted by St. Luke. That which is to be superseded must be first observed. He that is to be the King of men must be first shown to be a true Israelite. He is declared to be holy to the Lord by the same rite which declared the son of every Jewish mother to be holy to the Lord. And this mother undergoes the same purification which was appointed for every other mother. Most carefully are we taught that neither child or mother claims our reverence by taking an exceptional position. Both fulfil that which others have done and been imperfectly. So the verses which follow acquire their full force. ‘And, behold, there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon; and the same man was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel: and the Holy Ghost was upon him. And it was revealed unto him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. And he came by the Spirit into the temple: and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him after the custom of the law, then took he him up in his arms, and blessed God, and said, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy salvation. Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel. And Joseph and his mother marvelled at those things which were spoken of him.’
Had there been the least exemption from the Law claimed for Jesus, the old doctor of the Law would not have seen in Him the Christ for whom he had been waiting. He had been longing for one who should Himself obey the Law, and enable all who honoured it to obey it. The King who should keep the Law in its spirit—the King who should impart a Spirit to His subjects that they might keep it—the King who should be shewn not to be only the King of Israel but the King of men—this was He whom the heart of Simeon had recognised while reading the Prophets; this was ’He whom he had learnt must come in great humility, if He was to be the consolation of all who were suffering and hoping.
The Nunc Dimittis, like the Song of Zacharias and the Song of Mary, has become a part of our worship. We hear it and join in it without much recollection of the occasion upon which it was spoken. But that occasion gives it all its force as a living commentary on the New Testament; that makes it so beautiful and calm a vesper hymn. It is this occasion which teaches us how the Lord’s Christ is manifested to any human being; how only an inward illumination can make the sacred letters intelligible even to those who study them most faithfully. It tells us that all Law and Prophecy are nothing till a Person is seen through them, till the shout of a king is heard amidst the thunders of Sinai, and the low wailings of the seer. It tells us how impossible it was that those thunders should really be recognised as the voice of the Lord God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and of great mercy, till He was revealed in One who delighted to do the Will of God; how impossible it was that those prophetical wailings could be satisfied till one appeared who was the Light of the Gentiles as well as the Glory of Israel. Hard it was for an old Hillel doctor not to think that the glory of Israel must involve the darkness and downfall of the Gentiles. Through this infant the truth flashed upon him that there must be a reconciliation of both; that He was the Reconciler. He would accomplish the meaning of circumcision. He would bestow that purification which the Jew and the Gentile needed equally, by which both might rise to be men. At the same time there is in all prophecy a bitter mixed with the sweet, a sorrow which the Joy cannot quench. Simeon has known too much of himself, too much of his countrymen, not to perceive that one who should work out the Redemption he looked for would stir the heart of the nation to its depths, would bring out all its fierceness and evil as well as its good. ‘Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel; and for a sign which shall be spoken against.’ And then turning to the mother, who is musing on these sayings, he says, ‘Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also, that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.’ Wonderful words, deeper than he could fathom even when his inspiration was fullest and brightest; deeper than we can fathom; words which fulfilled themselves in that day and have been fulfilling themselves in every day since.
The figure of the widow of fourscore years who departed not from the Temple, but served God with fasting and prayer day and night, as she comes at that moment and gives thanks, completes the picture of the circumcision, and combines—as in the Church they always have been and always must be combined—the man and the woman in the same retrospection and the same hope.
III. I can say nothing to you on the third subject—the appearance of the boy of twelve years old in the Temple—which has not been said with a life and power that no words save those of Scripture can reach, in a picture with which most of you will be familiar. The blessing of such earnest studies is that they bring a person before us, and remind us that it is with Christ as a Person, not with any discourses concerning Him, that we have to do. The Artist, too, has felt the transition from the old world to the new, to which the Evangelist points so often. Behind that house made with hands, one is coming forth which is eternal in the heavens; a Father’s House in the fullest sense. Behind the weary interpreters of the Law is coming forth that Interpreter who is as yet only hearing and asking questions, but such questions as reveal to those who tried to answer them, secrets in themselves and in the Divine mind which they had only dreamed of, or never dreamed of before. He is still the boy; not restless in that state, not grasping at any of the rights and faculties of manhood; but on His gaze an abyss of light is opening, and He makes even those around Him feel a little of the awe which possesses Him. He is the boy ready to obey those who are set over Him upon earth, but who must be ever in communion with a Father, different from any parent who asserts a claim over Him below.
There the story closes. When it opens again it is to tell us how that Father was preparing men for the manifestation of His Son; how He did declare Him by this name. I shall not anticipate that great subject. I only desire to remind you that till this veil is withdrawn, till the voice is heard in the Baptism, we are only in the vestibule of the Temple. How grand the vestibule is, how suitable it is to that which lies beyond it, I have wished to shew you. But the Annunciation, with all its awe and its tenderness, the songs of Mary and Zacharias and Simeon, though they have wrought themselves into the life of the wisest and the humblest people on the earth for 1800 years, even the birth in the manger, even the songs of the angels, even the looks and the questionings of the Divine boy among the doctors, are but the preludes to the Gospel of the Son in whom the Father was well pleased, to His baptism with the Spirit and with fire.