Earlier on this week I was watching a programme on the TV called Charles Dickens and the Invention of Christmas. I don’t know if anyone else here saw it, but what the programme was about was the way in which what we now regard as Christmas traditions and the way we now celebrate Christmas were, to a large extent, invented by the Victorians. The Charles Dickens connection in the programme, was to suggest that one of the major influences on the way the Victorians came to think Christmas ought to be celebrated, was Dickens’ book, A Christmas Carol.

As the programme said, and as anyone who’s ever read the book will know, concern for the plight of the poor and needy, and the necessity of caring for them by doing something to improve their situation is very much at the heart of A Christmas Carol and it was very much at the heart of Christmas for the Victorians too. But whilst that concern for the poor is very much what we might call a Christian virtue, what the programme made clear was that, on the whole, the way the Victorians celebrated Christmas, what have become our Christmas traditions, actually have very little to do with Christmas as a Christian festival. There’s much more in A Christmas Carol, for example, about eating, drinking and making merry at Christmas than there is about celebrating the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ at Christmas.

If we think about our Christmas traditions, I think it’s quite obvious that the programme’s makers had a point. Much, in fact most, of what we regard as Christian traditions don’t really have very much, if anything at all, to do with the birth of Jesus Christ do they? And that’s a situation that seems to become more marked as the years go by. At one time, for example, it would have been quite common to hear Christmas carols playing in shopping centres and stores at this time of year but that’s not the case now is it? This year, I’ve not done any Christmas shopping on-line, I’ve done it all in shops and I can’t recall a single instance of hearing Christmas carols being played anywhere I’ve been. Instead, what’s been played are things such as White Christmas, Merry Xmas Everybody, I Wish it Could be Christmas Every Day, and such like.

But then, these days, most people regard songs like this as traditional Christmas songs. Anyone who has music channels on their TV will probably have noticed that, for the past few months now, there have been lots of Christmas music programmes on. Things with titles like, The 50 Greatest Christmas Songs Ever, 25 Christmas Classics, and so on. But all of these great Christmas songs and classics have been taken from pop music over the years, there’s hardly a traditional Christmas carol to be heard in any of them. But apart from the odd one or two that do have some Christian content, what do the vast majority of these songs actually have to do with Christmas as the celebration of the birth of Jesus? They might be very festive with their lyrics about stockings and cards and presents, about Santa and reindeer, sleighs and sleighbells, about snow and snowmen, Christmas trees, parties and so on, but what do any of those things actually have to do with the Incarnation of God’s Son, the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ? Very little, if anything at all, I would say. But there is one song that’s been featured on a lot of these programmes, usually towards the top end of these top 50s or 25s or whatever the number’s been, a song that, on the face of it, has nothing to do with Christmas except that it’s set on Christmas Eve, a song that isn’t even very festive, but a song that I think does have something very meaningful to say about Christmas and what Christmas is really all about.

The song is called Fairytale of New York. I’m sure those of you who know that song will be surprised by that choice. I’m also sure that some of you who don’t know the song will be too because you may have heard it mentioned this year when the BBC caused some commotion about it by deciding to only play an edited version of the song because they have decided that the original lyrics are too offensive to be heard in these days of political correctness. But it’s actually those original lyrics, set as they are against the backdrop of Christmas that, in my opinion, make the song so much closer to the true meaning of Christmas than so many other so called Christmas classics.

Fairytale of New York is a song about two people who meet on Christmas Eve, that’s the Christmas setting. It’s a song about a relationship that’s gone wrong. It’s a song that speaks about alcohol and drug abuse. It speaks about people who are in prison and in the depths of despair. It’s a song in which people speak about each other in very derogatory ways, and this is why the BBC have decided not to play the original version of the song. It’s a song in which, amongst other things people call each other, bums and punks, scumbags, maggots and cheap, lousy savoury ducks. (Let the reader understand, as it says in the Scriptures!). It’s a song about broken dreams and lost hopes, about the ugliness and bitterness that life can bring, and the hopelessness and helplessness that people can feel and experience as they go through life. And throughout all this brokenness and ugliness and bitterness and hopelessness and helplessness of life that the people in the song are experiencing, the bells ring out for Christmas Day. And if we take a step back from the way Christmas is usually described in songs, where everything is wonderful and jolly and bright and all is joy and happiness, and think a little more deeply about that image from Fairytale of New York, of the bells ringing out for Christmas amidst the problems and troubles of life, isn’t that closer to the reality of Christmas? Isn’t that what Christmas is really all about, rather than the festive traditions we wrap it up in?

What Christmas is really all about is God entering into the harsh reality of human life at a definite and definitive moment in human history. It’s about God coming into the world so that the brokenness and bitterness of the world can be healed, so that the ugliness of the world can be changed into something more beautiful, it’s about God coming into the world to bring help to the helpless and hope to those without hope. It’s about God coming into the world so that all the brokenness and ugliness and bitterness and helplessness and hopelessness of human life and of individual human lives can be transformed and lifted up to heaven through the Incarnation of God’s Son, the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ.  And so, Christmas is very much about the bells ringing out in celebration of Christmas Day amidst the reality, and sometimes very harsh reality, of human life. 

In the programme Charles Dickens and the Invention of Christmas, Dickens, and the Victorians generally were credited with saving Christmas because, it was said, until they began to celebrate it in the way they did, Christmas was in danger of dying out. I assume by that, it was the festive celebration of Christmas that was in danger, not the Church’s celebration of Christmas as a Christian festival. That may well be true, and I’m sure the Victorians meant well. But what we’ve inherited from them is a celebration that’s become, and is increasingly becoming, devoid of real meaning. 

The image of Christmas we’re given in what people now seem to regard as traditional Christmas songs is of a festive occasion that’s all about eating, drinking and making merry. An occasion that’s all about decorating our homes with trees, baubles and lights. An occasion that’s all about Santa and reindeer, sleighs and sleighbells and presents. An occasion on which everything wonderful and everyone is happy. That might be a very jolly image, but it’s not real is it, because real life isn’t like that. And if we take the birth of Jesus Christ out of Christmas, then what’s it all for and about?

So, whilst it might not be a traditional image of Christmas, and it’s certainly not a particularly nice or comfortable image of Christmas, the image we get from Fairytale of New York is a much more valuable one to us because it reminds us of what Christmas is really all about, the bells ringing out for Christmas amidst the harsh reality of human life. And if some people think that’s offensive, I wonder if they’ve ever stopped to consider how offensive our traditional way of celebrating Christmas might be to some people? How offensive the amount we eat and drink, or perhaps particularly how much food we waste at Christmas might be to those who are starving? How offensive the amount we spend on decorating our homes for Christmas might be to those who have no homes to decorate? How offensive the amount we spend on presents might be to those who have nothing to give? How offensive saying everything is wonderful and everyone is happy might be to those who have lost all hope and are in the depths of despair? 

But today is Christmas and it is a time of celebration, so I don’t want to be too downbeat. So let’s celebrate Christmas and enjoy our traditional way of doing that. But let’s also remember that there’s much more to Christmas than our traditions and traditional ways of celebrating it. Let’s remember what Christmas is really all about and make sure the bells do ring out in celebration of the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ amidst all the festivities and traditions of Christmas. And let’s remember too, why the Son of God came to earth and do all we can to make sure that those Christmas bells ring out in the lives of all people, and especially in the lives of those who need to hear them most, and not just on Christmas Day, but every day.

Amen.

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The Propers for The Nativity of the Lord 24th December 2020 (Midnight Mass) can be found here.

The Propers for The Nativity of the Lord 25th December, 2020 (Christmas Day) can be found here.

We’ve just heard what must be one of the most well-known of all Bible stories, the story of the archangel Gabriel’s visit to the Blessed Virgin Mary. It’s a story we know by different names, The Annunciation, Mary’s Fiat, which means ‘let it be’ or perhaps as Mary’s ‘Yes’ to God. But by whatever name or title we know this story, I’m sure we do all know it.

But although this is a particularly well-known example of someone saying ‘Yes’ to God, it’s by no means the only one. In fact, the Scriptures are full of stories about people who said ‘Yes’ to God. Joseph, Mary’s betrothed, for example, said ‘Yes’ to God. So did the man we heard about last week, John the Baptist. The Patriarchs and prophets whom we read so much about in the Old Testament, they all said ‘Yes’ to God. And of course Jesus himself said ‘Yes’ to God, as did his disciples through their faith in Jesus. And of course, that’s something that’s continued to the present day, we wouldn’t be here in church today if it weren’t for all those who’d said ‘Yes’ to God throughout the Church’s history. That’s obvious really because the continuance of the Church and the Christian faith depends on people saying ‘Yes’ to God and being obedient to his will through the ages and passing their faith on to the next generation. I’m sure we all know that. But if we all do know that, and by all, I mean all Christians, why is it that so many people in the Church seem to say ‘No’ to God?

I don’t think many people say ‘No‘ to God explicitly. I’m sure very few people who call themselves Christians would, knowing what God wants of them, actually say ‘No, I’m not doing that’ but lots of them do say ‘No’ to God because the way they try to practice their faith makes it virtually impossible for them to do what God wants them to do.

One of the things we know that we’re all called to do as Christians, is share our faith. We have to do that if we want the Church and the Christian faith to survive, as I’ve just said. Doing that is part of the Great Commission that Jesus gave to his disciples before his Ascension, so we know it’s something we’re all supposed to do. But lots of Christians don’t do that. They can’t do that because they keep quiet about their faith and try to keep their faith to themselves.

There are lots of reasons people do that. For example, during my last few weeks at work, before I went to Mirfield as an ordinand, I told people at the various timber yards I used to visit that I was leaving the timber treatment company to go to theological college to train for the priesthood.

When I told people that, there was a bit of the mickey-taking that I expected, but I was surprised by the number of people who took me to one side and said something along the lines of, ‘I go to Church myself, but I don’t like to say anything about it because this lot will just take the mickey out of me.’

I think the worst example of this kind of thing I’ve ever come across happened while I was at Mirfield and I went on a two-week placement at a hospital chaplaincy. I was absolutely appalled by what I found there. The chaplaincy manager was an Anglican priest, but he forbade me, and everyone else in the team too, from speaking to anyone on the wards about the Christian faith unless they’d specifically requested that we did. He even told us not to pray with them unless they asked us to. Not only that, but he also collected all the chaplaincy literature from the wards and had it reprinted with any specific references to Christianity removed. He even started removing the Bibles from the bedside cabinets on the wards, until he was told to put them back by the Head of Nursing at the hospital. When I asked him what he was playing at, he said that he needed to do all this because any references to Christianity were offensive to non-Christians. Well, it was a multi-faith chaplaincy so there were quite a few non-Christians on the team, and they were completely mystified by it all. In fact, the Muslim chaplains asked me if I knew what was going on. They asked me, “What’s his problem? He acts as though he’s ashamed of his faith.” But I couldn’t answer them because I was just as mystified as they were by it all.

Thankfully, not everyone is as bad as that, but lots of Christians do act as though they’re ashamed of their faith, or at least as though their faith causes them some embarrassment. I think, at least in part, that’s what lies behind much of the current trend in the Church to change the Christian faith so that it’s more in line with the values of the world. But when we do that, we can’t fulfil the Great Commission Jesus gave to his disciples because we’re making the Church and its people disciples of the world rather than making the people of the world disciples of Christ. And so, in effect, we’re saying ‘No’ to God.

The most common way we say ‘No’ to God though is by privatising our faith. And people do that for all sorts of reasons. They do for the reason I’ve already mentioned; that they think people will make fun of them if they find out that they’re Christians. Some people think that Christians are a bit odd, or stupid, or even pathetic, at times. One person once told me that Christianity is for sad, inadequate people who can’t cope with real life and so they need the ‘crutch’ of God and religion to lean on.

People sometimes keep quiet about their faith simply for the sake of a quiet life; they do it so that people don’t start having a go at them about all that’s wrong in the world, those who say, ‘How can you believe in God when such and such is going on in the world?’ I’m sure we’ve all heard that one at times. Or it might be the ‘Religion has caused more wars in the world than anything else in history’ brigade who are having a go at them. Sometimes it’s because they think other people’s attitude towards them will change if it’s known that they’re Christians and they’ll be treated differently than they were before. That often happens because people don’t know how to behave around Christians; people aren’t always at ease around Christians because they think they have to be on their best behaviour when a Christian is around.

And so, for all these reasons, or perhaps a mixture of these reasons, people hide their faith. They hide their faith so that they can fit in with everyone else, so that they can be treated as ‘normal people’ and have an easier time than they think they would have or might have, if other people knew they were Christians. But when we do this, we say ‘No’ to God.

But is that really the way we should repay God for what he’s done for us? As Christians, shouldn’t we find a better way of thanking God, than saying ‘No’ to him for the sake of an easy time?

What if Abram had said ‘No’ to God and never left his home in Ur? What if Moses had said ‘No’ to God and stayed in Midian tending his sheep instead of returning to Egypt? What if the prophets had said ‘No’ to God and let the faith of Israel die out? What if Mary had said ‘No’ to God and refused to bear his Son, or Joseph had said ‘No’ to God and divorced Mary? What if John the Baptist had said ‘No’ to God and decided that a nice, comfortable priestly life was more important than preparing the way for the Lord? And what if Jesus had said ‘No’ to God? What if Jesus had given in to temptation in the wilderness or decided that it was better and safer to stay at home in Nazareth than to carry out the mission and ministry that God wanted him to carry out? What if Jesus had said ‘No’ to God in Gethsemane and done what he must have so desperately wanted to do and ignored the Father’s will and saved himself?

But those people didn’t say ‘No’ to God: they said ‘Yes’, and they did what God asked of them. The ‘Yes’ to God of the patriarchs and prophets, of Mary and Joseph and John, led to Jesus, and thanks to his ‘Yes’ to God, we’re here today 2000 years later as his Jesus’ disciples.

A disciple, of course, is a follower and Jesus is an extremely hard act to follow. But surely, we can at least try to follow the example of some of the other people who said ‘Yes’ to God through the years? Surely, we can at least try to follow the example of Mary, a young girl who risked everything to do what God asked of her?

We think Mary might have only been about 14 years old when the archangel visited her. For such a young girl to become pregnant today would be something of a scandal, how much more scandalous it was in Jewish society 2000 years ago. Mary was a betrothed young woman. That’s sometimes likened to being engaged but betrothal was much more than what we mean by an engagement. Being pregnant, who in their right mind would have believed that Mary was still a virgin? No one. So, as a betrothed woman, she would have been regarded as an adulteress, even though she wasn’t married. The very least she could have expected was for Joseph to divorce her and having to spend the rest of her life with a stain, a black mark on her character. She risked the possibility of being stoned to death. Mary could have taken an easy way out of all this and played it safe: she could have said ‘No’ to God, married Joseph and led a normal life Yet, knowing the risks she ran, knowing all that might happen, Mary’s response to Gabriel, and to God, was to say, “Let it be with me according to your word.”

Mary said ‘Yes’ to God, and so should we. Perhaps we can’t ever fully live up to Jesus’ example of complete obedience to the father’s will, but surely, we can at least try to follow the example of a young girl who risked so much for God, and put up with a little bit of trouble and discomfort on account of our faith?

Amen.

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You will find the Propers for Advent 4 here.

As we go through the Scripture readings the Church sets for Advent, we read from and about three main characters. We read from the prophecies of Isaiah who’s regarded as the prophet of the Advent. We read about the Blessed Virgin Mary who, of course, was chosen by God to be the mother of Christ. And we read about John the Baptist who was the forerunner, the one sent by God to prepare the way for Christ. Today, in fact, we hear from or about all three of them, but in particular today we hear about John the Baptist.

There’s no doubt that John is a very important figure in the Advent story, and in the story of our salvation, generally. But, having said that, he’s very much overshadowed by other people we read about in the Scriptures, isn’t he? If we think about the names we give to churches when they’re dedicated for worship, for example, we can probably think of lots that are dedicated to the evangelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. We can probably think of lots dedicated to Saints Peter or Paul. We can probably think too of lots that are dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary. In fact, we can probably think of lots of churches that are dedicated to lots of different saints, many of whom we don’t even read about in the Scriptures. But how many can we think of that are dedicated to John the Baptist? Probably not very many, if any at all, and I think that’s a great shame.

One of the things we often say about the saints is that they’re examples to us of how to live good, Christian lives, and probably the greatest example of that, is the Blessed Virgin Mary. She’s often held up as an example to Christians of obedience and faithfulness to God and Christ. There’s no doubt that Mary is an example of those things, but so is John the Baptist and yet he’s hardly ever, if ever, spoken of as someone who’s example we should follow. But actually, John is a great example to us. He’s someone whose story we should study and think about more than we perhaps do. He’s someone whose life and example we should take far more seriously that we perhaps do. And he’s someone whom I think, the Church should make a lot more fuss about than they usually do. So, this morning, as we read about John in the Gospel, let’s do just that, and think about John’s life and the example he’s set for us.

John’s father was Zechariah and Zechariah, was a priest. So John was born into a priestly family, and that means he was born into a relatively well-to-do family. He might not have been born into the ruling elite of Jewish society, but he was born into a family that would have had quite a high standard of living, much higher than most people could have hoped for. But John chose to give up his nice, comfortable life of relative luxury, his fine clothes, good food and nice house, to go and live in the wilderness, to wear animal skins and eat locusts and honey, and all so that he could preach and baptise in readiness for the coming of Christ. And, in a society, and a Church, in which wealth and possessions and status are often regarded as so important, if not the be-all-and-end-all, isn’t that’s an example to us today? John’s example to us is that, like him, we should care more about doing what God wants us to do than we do about wealth, possessions, status and the creature comforts we all surround ourselves with.

The life John chose, eventually led him to a prison cell and an early death. But then, in those days, and many other days too, openly criticising a king was quite likely to turn out badly for the one doing the criticising. But that didn’t stop John from speaking out against the king’s wrongdoing. And isn’t that an example to us too? There are a lot of things that go on in the world today that aren’t in keeping with God’s law and Jesus’ teaching, but that’s always been the case in every age. But rather than speaking out against it, aren’t we often more likely to see, even the Church of today modifying its teachings to suit the world’s values and standards rather than calling the world to change and adopt God’s values and standards, as it’s called to do and should do? And how much more likely are we to see wrongdoing excused or extenuating circumstances pleaded, or simply a blind eye turned to it when it’s the rich and famous and powerful who are doing the wrong? John’s example is that we should have the courage to speak out against wrongdoing when we see it, regardless of who the wrongdoer is.

The life John chose also gained him great fame and popularity and it would have been quite understandable if John had allowed that to go to his head. It would have been understandable if the adulation of the crowds had made John think that he was a bit more important than he really was.

It would have been understandable if John had started to think that perhaps he was the Messiah, or to take advantage of his popularity by at least claiming that he was and acting as though he was, even if he didn’t really believe it. That’s something we see all too often in the world, and in the Church too, sadly, isn’t it? A bit of fame or popularity, and perhaps particularly a little power or authority, going to someone’s head and leading someone to think that they’re far more important than they really are. But, despite his popularity, and power too, of a sort, over people, John didn’t allow himself to become pumped-up and have an over-inflated opinion of himself. This morning’s Gospel tells us that he denied every title people tried to thrust on him. No, he was not the Christ, he was not Elijah and he was not the Prophet. He was simply a messenger, preparing the way for someone far greater, whose sandal straps he wasn’t even worthy to undo, who was going to come after him. And so John is an example of humility to us. And he’s an example of the purpose of our humility as Christians too.

One of the ways the Blessed Virgin Mary is said to be an example to us, is that her obedience and faithfulness points our attention, not to Mary herself, but to her son, to Christ. And, in fact, if you look at images, paintings, icons or statues of Mary and the Christ-child, she’s very often portrayed pointing to Christ. And we can say the same thing about John too. As we read in the Gospel this morning, John’s humility in refusing honour and titles points us to the one who comes after him, John directs our attention away from himself, towards Christ. So, just like Mary, John points us to Christ. And that is an example that we should always follow as Christians. Whatever we do as Christians, whatever we do in the Church, no matter how popular what we do might make us, no matter how much authority were granted, none of that should ever be about us. None of it should ever be done to draw attention to ourselves. It should only ever be done to point beyond us to the one in whose name we do it. Whatever we do should point other people to Christ.

So John is an example to us, and his example is one we should follow. And John’s example is one we need to follow too. We need to follow John’s example because, in a sense, we share his ministry.

We’re not called to prepare people for Christ’s earthly ministry, of course, but we are called to prepare people to meet Christ. We’re called to prepare people to meet him in the Scriptures and the sacraments of the Church. We’re called to prepare people to meet him in prayer. We’re called to prepare people to meet him in other people. We’re called to prepare people to meet him in the power of the Holy Spirit in their daily lives. And we’re called to prepare people to meet him at the end of their earthly lives when they, and we, all will meet him as our judge. But we’ll only be able to do those things if we’ve followed something of John’s example.

We won’t prepare people to meet Christ if we put earthly things before spiritual things because then people will think that’s what God wants us to do. We won’t prepare people to meet Christ if we excuse or turn a blind eye to wrongdoing because then people will think it doesn’t really matter what we do in our lives. And we won’t prepare people to meet Christ if we’re full of our own importance because then people will be looking at us and not for Christ, or at Christ.

So let’s try to give John a little more thought than perhaps we do now and think a bit more about just what a fine example he set for us. And let’s try to make our lives and examples, a bit more like his.

Amen. 

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You will find the Propers for Advent 3 here.