Christmas Reflection

'The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.’ (Isaiah 9:2, NRSV)

Several years ago, I was a member of the Ebor Lectures committee responsible for a series of lectures on public life and theology at York Minster. The lectures drew widely across religious, political and cultural life and one day I was tasked with picking up Roy Hattersley, the former Deputy Leader of the Labour Party, and escorting him to the Minster. As we drew into the car park, a member of the Minster police, clearly annoyed, told me to turn around and go away; there were no spaces for members of the public in a private car park – at least that’s the polite version of what he said to me! Seemingly there was no room at the inn! However, as soon as the security guard saw Lord Hattersley sat next to me in the car, he changed his tune and became much more welcoming: ‘Oh, Lord Hattersley, we’ve been expecting you. Please come this way. Do park here.’

‘We’ve been expecting you.’ A perfect description of the journey we take each year from Advent to Christmas. I was reminded of that meeting with Lord Hattersley the other day when, quite unexpectedly, I came across one of his quotations. Familiarity with evil does not breed contempt as we might think, he argued, but acceptance. The past year is one in which many have felt overwhelmed by a deluge of images of war and violence, a growth in extremism, destruction of the planet, hostility towards the stranger and an increasing fragmentation of public life and discourse, even attempts to put Christ back into Christmas in the most un-Christlike of ways.

It’s perhaps not surprising that many people feel numb or impotent in the face of so much that is wrong in our world. Yet faith in Christ does not allow us to simply accept the world as it is. We are called to hope. As the American community activist, Jim Wallis, put it in a paraphrase of Hebrews 1:1, ‘Hope means believing in spite of the evidence and then watching the evidence change.’ I would go further than Wallis’ paraphrase: hope involves decision, faith filled choices and actions as well as attentiveness. Indeed, if you read Jim Wallis, you will know that he believes that too. Hope is the greatest gift we can bring to situations that seem hopeless, where people long for change and justice. Hope is possible because it is part of God’s gift to us of Christ, Immanuel, God with us.

For the past few years, though sadly not this one, I have attended an Advent Carol Service at Durham Cathedral. It is one of those services of colour, sound and drama on a grand scale which the Church of England does so well. At the beginning of the service the cathedral lies in darkness but gradually, as the choir progresses from the west end to the east during the course of the service, it is illuminated first in dim light and then in light which saturates the sanctuary. It is a visualised rendering of Advent and the journey from darkness to light which we celebrate at Christmas with the coming of the Messiah. We must never forget the political character of this imagery: it is a journey from a kingdom of darkness to a kingdom of peace and light, where God is all in all, and the lion is imagined lying down with the lamb.

The story of Jesus’ birth is a testimony to light entering our world and overcoming the darkness. We have become so familiar with the story and the way it has been distorted through our cultural lens that we miss what is most obvious about it. Jesus is born into a land that is occupied. The holy family is forced to journey to register by imperial command. A client king, Herod massacres infants. The Christmas narrative reminds us that Mary and Joseph travel to Bethlehem at the behest of an oppressive regime, that Jesus is born, fragile and vulnerable, in a stable but not a home, of shepherds living a marginal existence, and a family forced to flee as refugees for fear of a tyrant. Sound familiar? It is a hair’s breadth from the world in which we live today.

But this human, fragile, vulnerable story is also God’s story and therefore a story of love, mercy, grace and hope. It is a testimony to God’s patience and long view. Hundreds of years before Christ’s birth a prophet, Isaiah, however dimly, sees a day such as this, and the choirs of angels who sing in the sight of the shepherds in Luke’s version of the Christmas story, seem to testify that the whole of creation has been waiting for this moment. This is the turning point of human history. Jesus will grow up to face evil not through the use of force but by way of a cross. This seemingly paradoxical act shows up our cycles of violence and destruction for what they are and yet calls us to join with God in transforming evil one act at a time in works of love, hope, protest, faith, forgiveness, and reconciliation.

Our familiarity both with the Christmas story and stories on the news should not be allowed to breed acceptance, nor cynicism, nor contempt. It calls us instead to follow a patient God, God with us, and to transform our world, one act of love at a time.

There are no easy solutions to the issues that the world faces. Yet the clue to its transformation lies in the birth of hope. Desmond Tutu was once asked how he sustained himself through the period of apartheid: ‘I am a prisoner of hope’, he said. In stating this, Archbishop Tutu indicated that he understood what it meant to stand in the tradition of the prophets and to walk in the footsteps of Jesus. Whatever else this Christmas may bring, I pray that we too may embrace the vocation to be prisoners of hope with everyone we engage with, both our immediate neighbours and in the wider public square. Remember – Immanuel – God is with us.

May God bless you, your loved ones and your neighbours as we celebrate the birth of Jesus, the Word made flesh.

Revd Richard M Andrew,
President of the Methodist Conference