He was born to rule the nations, to bring universal peace and the favor of heaven. That is how he wanted to be remembered in ages to come, and so, with an eye toward his impending death, he ordered an inscription to be placed on two bronze pillars. They stood before a massive mausoleum, which he had already erected in Rome as a final resting place for himself and a long line of his successors.
Known as the Res Gestae Divi Augusti (The Deeds of Divine Augustus), the text was copied and posted in places of honor throughout the empire. In detailing his deeds, the first Roman emperor, Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus, born Gaius Octavius, sought to justify his past and to ensure the future of his dynasty.
Octavius had come to the throne in the wake of the civil wars, which had followed the assassination of his uncle Julius Caesar, whose name and title “Augustus” he had assumed. He wanted the former republic to see that their decision to accept one-man rule, once and for all, had been correct.
The Res Gestae begins:
In my nineteenth year, on my own initiative and at my own expense, I raised an army with which I set free the state, which was oppressed by the domination of a faction…. I often waged war, civil and foreign, on the earth and sea, in the whole wide world, and as victor I spared all the citizens who sought pardon. As for foreign nations, those which I was able to safely forgive, I preferred to preserve than to destroy. About five hundred thousand Roman citizens were sworn to me.
The text recounts military deeds and alliances established, honors refused, donations made to Rome and his former soldiers along with the public works, gladiatorial expositions and monuments, which Augustus sponsored. As he saw it, heaven had come to earth during his reign. Now the goal was to ensure that the world that Rome ruled kept faith with its imperial successors.
This is the same Caesar Augustus who is mentioned in the opening of St. Luke’s Gospel.
In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus
that the whole world should be enrolled.
This was the first enrollment,
when Quirinius was governor of Syria
So all went to be enrolled, each to his own town (2:1-3).
Easy enough to understand why such a man would want a census, to know how many people he ruled.
Most of us have never heard of the Res Gestae Divi Augustus, though they served their purpose for many centuries, convincing countless men and women that submission to the overwhelming power and its violence was the only hope for peace and prosperity. They still serve a purpose. Briefly reviewing the Res Gestae can remind us that what happened in Bethlehem is not the fabric of a fable.
Let us be honest on this hallowed feast of Christmas. There is a corner of our consciousness that suspects that the shepherd and the angels of Bethlehem are only a heart-warming story, one we revisit each dark and cold December.
No cadre of clerks and scribes assisted St. Luke as he wrote out his story on parchment. And what could the evangelist say on behalf of the babe of Bethlehem? Jesus of Nazareth had no military conquests. He never held office in the ancient world. He erected no buildings or monuments. He bequeathed to history no writing of any kind. For every follower he gained, even more despised him.
Those who would label Bethlehem a legend must then confess that, given what his Gospel accomplished, St. Luke is the greatest light in all of literature. If, some 2,000 years ago, the God of Israel did not act decisively in Bethlehem of Judea, then history, which has no mind of its own, has nonetheless produced the greatest irony ever recorded.
Augustus arguably remains the most powerful man the world has ever known. He laid out his list of accomplishments and disseminated them throughout the known world. So why must we be reminded of Augustus while we are not able to forget Jesus?
St. Luke insisted that the child born in Bethlehem was destined to be
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and glory for your people Israel (2:32).
Beginning with his infancy narrative and continuing throughout his Gospel, Luke applies many human titles to Jesus of Nazareth. Many of the same titles were claimed by Augustus himself: King of Kings, Universal Savior, Ruler and Healer. Some are proper to Israel: Messiah, Son of David.
In the centuries that have followed, who has been healed by Augustus? Who still claims his blessings? Yet many have been healed, and many have found comfort, just as Jesus promised in Luke’s account when he entered the synagogue in Nazareth to begin his ministry:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring glad tidings to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord (4:18-19).
A warmed heart is good, but come home from Christmas Mass with more than that. Make yourself think about the irony. Ask yourself what it means, not just for the world but for you.
Luke engaged in something of a literary gamble, but winning and losing is based upon hearing and believing. St. Luke’s Simeon, an old devout man in the temple, blessed the child and his mother, saying,
Behold, this child is destined
for the fall and rise of many in Israel,
and to be a sign that will be contradicted (2:34).
Ceasar Augustus judged his deeds to speak for themselves. In contrast, St. Luke addressed himself to human hearts, and the deeds have followed. The question laid before you this day: What does your heart tell you?
