Christmas Story: Prince among the People

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Date: 07 December 2007 14:58:37

A story I wrote a few years ago for a Christmas service, as I was meant to write a sermon and didn't feel like it. It's reproduced below so that anyone who's doing a Christmas service or assembly can use it, if they want, as long as they don't try to pass it off as their own. Have a read - it will take you about 5 minutes.

Prince among the People:
A Christmas Parable

It was early winter in the kingdom. Rivers began to freeze, icy winds cut into the villages, and hard frost blanketed hills and lowlands. Trade was conducted briskly in the towns. Hunger and cold hit those at the rough end of the businessmen's dealings, their housing priced high by men greedy for gain. And though poverty did not ravish the kingdom, discontent did; and there were murmurings of war against a neighbour whose riches were great but whose strength declined.

In keeping with the kingdom, the palace was not opulent. Its rooms were comfortable, but modest; displays of honour were many, but displays of wealth few. Fires blazed brightly, and servants worked hard and merrily. This year the palace buzzed with twin fevers. One was the fever of war. Councillors and ministers pressed the king to invade their wealthy and weak neighbour. ‘Consider, your majesty, the riches to be gained,' they said. ‘You can transform this land and build the greatest palace.' The king, however, was indifferent, and war was anathema to him.

The other fever to sweep the palace surrounded the birth of the prince. He seemed to all like a miracle child. After years of being unable to conceive, a child was born to the king and queen, though due to complications they knew it was to be their last child. Now the son was their world, and the whole palace doted on him, excitement filling the corridors. Grand plans were made for the prince. He would reign in the best tradition of his father, noble, dignified and gracious, and presiding over a happy and prosperous people with whom he would be at one.

Yet as the king warmed himself in a small, plain room one evening, such a situation seemed impossible. The murmurings of war grew louder in the towns. Never had the gulf between king and people been so wide. He sat bent forward, elbows propped on his knees, and hands sunk in his large, greying beard. His mind was troubled. The people were discontent, and he felt aggrieved. Why were they so angry? His law was strict but fair, and he gave help to the poor. The taxes he levied were not burdensome, and never spent on his personal gain. Those who went hungry did so because others cheated them, not because he was corrupt. But the people wanted more. Cheating their fellows had only whetted their appetite. Gold in abundance was their desire now. War was the means to get it. And if this king would not take them into war, they would get another king who would.

In the distance, an ugly sound was faintly heard. It began a low rumble, but slowly grew into the distinct sound of men shouting. The king rubbed the mist from the window pane, and peered out into the blackness. A mob carrying flaming torches stood at the gates of the palace. Their cries became audible. ‘War now!'; ‘Down with the weak king!'; ‘We have the power to rule'. He sank back from the window, blanking out the shouts. These were his people, whose happiness and wellbeing he desired, and with whom above all he wanted to be one. Sadness overwhelmed him.

After several minutes, another shout invaded his consciousness. ‘One of us for king!' the mob chanted. ‘Out with the ivory tower monarch!' The king thought about this. He had always lived in the palace, and his father before him. From time before memory, his line had been rulers of the land. When they married, they married royalty; when they visited others, they visited nobility. Maybe the king could do something to narrow the gap between himself and the people. He wanted so badly for king and people to be one again.

Just then he heard another cry. But this cry came from inside the palace, not outside it. It was his son, just a baby crying. A smile on his face, the king exited the room and went to see. The nursery door was ajar. He stood back from the door, unnoticed by those in the room, and watched his son through the opening. He felt full of love as he watched his wife nurse the young prince. And then it came to him. It was the way to make him and the people one again; the way in which his son might reign and enjoy the love of the people. It entered his mind like a thunderbolt, and sent him reeling. He staggered to his room and lay awake the whole night long, contemplating the plan and agonising over it with the queen. Together, with great pain, they resolved to see it through.

First thing in the morning he called a meeting of his ministers and advisors. As soon as they could, they came to the cabinet room, with the stone flagged floor, the long wooden table and the coats of arms around the walls. The king explained the plan to them. As expected, they objected in the strongest terms. Some mocked him inwardly, some expressed their contempt openly. Many felt that it was a desperate throw of the dice from a weak king. ‘Sire,' they objected, ‘can you so cheapen royalty? How can royalty and commoners mix?' Others said that he would never reign in true dignity as a monarch should. Those who were more kind hearted to the son said that the fate of a commoner should not be inflicted upon him.

The first minister thought for a long time before speaking. Finally he turned to the king and said, ‘Your Majesty, people will find his identity, and when they find it, they will kill him. He is your only son, you cannot afford to lose him. If he dies, your line dies with him, and the mob will rule.'

The king looked at his first minister, and then round at everyone at the table. ‘You are right,' said the king. ‘What I propose to do is foolish. The son that I love above all may die at the hands of the people. The throne my fathers have sat on for years may be forfeit. The queen and I will suffer great anguish. Only understand this. What I long for more than anything is to be at one with this people, and for my son to reign in peace, respected by all. My plan is drastic, and foolish to some eyes, but it is the only way of achieving what I long for.' He paused. ‘Have it cried through the towns and villages that tomorrow the king will speak to the people.'

The new day dawned. Beneath the palace balcony, a vast crowd from all parts of the kingdom gathered. They debated what the king would say. The greatest number of people there expected that the king would declare the long-awaited war. Some thought that he might announce his abdication. Some came merely because they still loved the king, and wanted to see him speak. After a long wait, the king appeared looking his most solemn.

‘I have gathered you here today as I have a decree to make concerning the future of the monarchy,' he said. A ripple of anticipation went through the crowd. ‘As you know, there have been protests recently at the palace. One cry I heard said, ‘One of us for king.' That I will give to you.

‘My son, my only son, will make his living among you. He will be brought up in a village on the far edge of the kingdom, by ordinary folk. No one will know his true nature, save my closest advisors. He himself will not know his identity. When he comes of age, he will be told that he is the prince, and will assume the throne. Then will you have a king who is truly one of you.' The king finished his decree and looked at the throng below him.

The crowd was initially stunned. Then the people began to react. Many left in disgust. This weak king had not given them their war, and riches would not be theirs. Some started talking among themselves, gleefully planning their search for the prince, and how they could ransom him, kill him and get rid of this pacifist royal line. But some peasant folk, from a corner of the crowd, began a chant which reached the king's ears. ‘Long live the King of Peace, and his Son, Prince among the People. May they live and reign for ever!'

The king descended the steps from the balcony. He stood by this group, wrapped in their shawls, their faces weather beaten. ‘My sons and daughters,' he said, ‘When the prince comes to his throne, and come he will, you will come with him to live in his palace and reign with him. Go now in peace and remember my promise.'

He turned then, sad but full of hope, to send his son into the world.

Ian F
2001