Isaiah 62:6-12 and Titus 3:4-7 and Luke 2:1-20
Earlier
this year I had the privilege of spending twelve days living at St George’s
House within Windsor Castle. We were taking part in a series of conversations
around how we speak of God in our contemporary context, engaging issues facing
us as a society and making a positive contribution from a Christian
perspective. Our days were structured around prayer, and worship; Bible study, and
book review; lectures from, and questions asked of, expert witnesses; papers
presented, and debate engaged, and an endless round of food and drinks. But
each day we timed our mid-morning coffee-break so as to allow us to go and
watch the changing of the guard.
The
Windsor Castle Guard is normally provided by one of the five regiments of Foot
Guards from the Household Division, who take turn being on duty for 24 or 48
hours. The New Guard march from Victoria Barracks through Windsor to the
Castle, led by a Regimental Band, arriving at 11.00. Following a ceremonial
handover of responsibility, the Old Guard march back to the barracks. Over the
24- or 48-hour period that their regiment is on duty, each guardsman will have
two hours on sentry duty and then four hours off, repeated. While on sentry
duty, the guardsman stands perfectly still. To the casual observer, he or she
is doing nothing. But they are a highly-skilled infantry soldier, and should
the need arise will spring into action. This is not a historical re-enactment
by actors: it is a ritualised activity that guards the deep psychological need
for order and meaning and identity and creative expression in the pragmatic
activity of protection against terror.
Our
reading from Isaiah began with a commanding officer posting sentinels on the
city walls, all day and all night. A sentinel is a soldier or guard whose job
is to stand and keep watch. To serve their two-hour sentry duty. And here we
are, on the shift that crosses over midnight. Don’t nod off: you’re on duty.
We
heard in our Gospel reading that ‘In that region there were shepherds living in
the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night.’ The shepherds, then, are
sentinels, alert to any predators approaching under the cover of darkness,
taking turns to rest and to keep watch. And the angels who usher them to parade
into Bethlehem are heaven’s Regimental band.
Isaiah
tells us that, along with looking out for enemies, the purpose of the sentinels
is to ‘remind the Lord’ of his promises to save his people. That is also, I
think, why the shepherds are sentinels: their presence reminding the Lord of
his promises to David, the shepherd-boy of Bethlehem. Why are we to remind the
Lord? Has he forgotten his promises? Or is he in danger of forgetting? Is he
stressed by too many other things on his mind? Or perhaps he is experiencing
the ravages of dementia?
No,
God has not forgotten us. But from our perspective, our brief human lives, it
can certainly feel that way. Reminding God is the way given us to partner with
God. In reminding God, we remind ourselves, and pass God’s promises on to the
next generation. In calling the past into the present—as opposed to seeking to
retreat to the past—we keep hope alive until what we hope for is manifest in
our lives. In calling the past into the present, the salvation we long for may
be born to us this day. In eating grain and wine, as Isaiah spoke of, we share
in communion with the promise of God-with-us. We remind the Lord that we have
not forgotten him; and are reminded that he has not forgotten us.
And
when we are dismissed from our sentry duty, how will we use our hours off?
During the night watch, sleep is perfectly appropriate. But when the morning
comes, who will you tell? See, your salvation comes! Happy Christmas!
No comments:
Post a Comment