St Stephen’s Day
Sermon preached by the Revd Anna Matthews
Having recently learnt the words to Away in a Manger, when she was tired, my niece announced that she was going to lay down her sweet head. Her identification with Jesus doesn’t yet extend to no crying she makes.
I confess to not being very fond of some of the more sentimental Christmas carols. There is often a lot of theology in what we sing, and I am unsure about what it says about Jesus taking on our full humanity if he’s not allowed to cry, or if he is made to fit Victorian conformity by only being gentle, meek and mild. I prefer the more obscure, but theologically hefty lines, like ‘A giant in twofold substance one, rejoices now his course to run’, from Come, thou Redeemer of the earth, or ‘Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth’ from Hark the herald. But the same carol – Once in royal – that gives us the Jesus who is mild and obedient and good gives us another line that is particularly resonant today as we celebrate St Stephen: ‘For he is our childhood’s pattern, day by day like us he grew’. Now of course partly this was written to keep children in their place: seen and not heard, like the good little boy Jesus. But it also speaks a more profound truth: this child, whose birth we celebrated yesterday, is the one on whom our lives are patterned. He is the one who shows us what it means to be fully human.
And today brings us face to face with what that means, in a way that cuts through the nostalgia and familiarity which can make Christmas too safe. Stephen is one of the first deacons: those appointed to oversee the fair distribution of food by the Church to those in need. The book of Acts records that, ‘full of grace and power, [he] did great wonders and signs among the people’. People found the gospel compelling and converting through his ministry, and as numbers increased, so those opposed to the gospel felt threatened. Stephen was brought before the high priest on trumped-up charges of blasphemy, and boldly proclaimed his faith in Christ. This sealed his fate, and the enraged religious authorities stoned him to death. Stephen sees a vision of the heavens opened and the Son of Man at the right hand of God. And so as they were stoning him, he commended his spirit to Jesus, and prayed for his persecutors to be forgiven.
If Christ is our pattern, then Stephen shows us that this takes in the whole of life and death. Jesus is dragged before the religious authorities on charges of blasphemy; he tells the chief priests and scribes that from now on the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of God. And as he hangs on the cross, he commends his spirit to God and prays ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’.
Trusting God, standing up for what is true, forgiving those who persecute them and praying for their enemies: this is the pattern of Christ’s life, and Stephen’s, and it should be the pattern of ours. Of the four saints’ days which come hot on the heels of Christmas day, three of them involve violence and murder: Stephen, the Holy Innocents, and Thomas à Becket. That in itself should give us pause for thought: what we celebrate as good news, the Word becoming flesh, is unbearable challenge to some people. We think of a baby as defenceless, dependent, unthreatening. Yet Herod knew the threat this baby posed to his power. Later on, the religious authorities would find the same, and would kill him. ‘He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him’.
But, ‘to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God’. And so the litany of saints bears witness to the truth we celebrate at Christmas: that the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it. The authorities responded to the threat Christ posed to their power by killing him. Yet such is the power of his love and of his life that death cannot contain it. All too soon there are others, proclaiming that same truth, standing up to those in power, showing by their lives of service, humility and forgiveness that there is an alternative to the rule of this world, and that those who are children of God belong to his kingdom.
Stephen shows us with shocking clarity what it means to pattern our lives on Christ’s. His trust in God challenges us to look at where we normally put our trust, which is too often in wealth or power or status or our own abilities. His readiness to forgive his enemies and pray for those who persecute him is in stark contrast to a society which is increasingly fearful and defensive and lacks mercy. And his courage in standing up for truth questions our evasions and compromises when we think truth costs too much.
We need Stephen, as we need all the other martyr saints, who show us that God’s life and truth and love are stronger than death. And yet while we give thanks for them, and for the encouragement and hope they give us, we shouldn’t think that their witness absolves us of our vocation to pattern our lives on Christ’s too. Modern day Herods and high priests still seek to shore up their power at the expense of truth and love and justice. Those of us who see in the child in the manger the truth sent from above should expect to find our lives shaped by that truth. And so we shouldn’t be surprised if our lives, like his, are cross-shaped.
Standing up for truth, practising forgiveness, trusting in God: these are characteristics of the lives of Christians because they are characteristics of the life of Christ. And as we see them made real in the life of Stephen, we’re challenged anew to pattern our lives after Christ’s, to let his truth and love live in us, to keep on challenging and transforming the world until it more closely resembles the kingdom. So, pray for us Stephen, pray for us all the martyr saints of God, that we too may be made worthy of the promises of Christ. Amen.