Church of the Shepherds, Bethlehem

It is Boxing Day in Manchester. The origins of this name go back to medieval times, when the lords of the manors would distribute boxes of provisions to their serfs. It evolved through the centuries, becoming for the Church a time of giving food to those in poverty. Now it is the day the after-Christmas sales begin. On the positive side, it adds another day to the celebration period, to wind down, relax while eating the left-overs. And, possible, to reflect. Which is what I am doing now.

I have been reading through the newspaper articles on Christianity and Christmas, published on the 23rd and 24th. For the most part, they are as predictable as what carols would be sung at the Service of Lessons and Carols. The British press span of perspectives fall neatly into line with the political leanings of the publishers. This is neither to criticize nor complain. At least the commentators take into consideration that this is one of Christianity’s chief festivals. The American press, on the other hand, offers little or nothing to make mention of. There are the stories (as in Britain) about political correctness gone wild, and about who is to blame for the commercialism of the season. But the leading comments offer the bland sort of holiday warm-fuzzies we are used to from the films that crowd the airwaves this time of year—good will, family, etc. Very little Christ is found.

The British approach may be (and is) irritating and frustrating, but at least there is a high level of conversation. For frustrating, read the Guardian's spin on the latest poll on religion in Britain

For irritating, the Daily Mail's ability to report a positive Christian message in a manner to provoke bigotry.

On a different note entirely, The Times publishes and approves of the text of the Archbiship of Canterbury’s Christmas message delivered in Bethlehem.

And, the surprise of the season for the Gazelle was the true blue, Tories at play Daily Telegraph inclusion of this article by John Humphrys, the BBC Today Show presenter, reflecting on his interviews of the leaders of the three great religions, aired in recent months, titled ‘What I found out about God’. The commentators still miss the point of the place of religion in life, and particularly of the faith revealed in Jesus. An explanation for evil, suffering, and how a God may deal with these, is a problem for Christianity as for all religions. The religion of atheism or scientism may try to resolve the problem by both denying there is a God while blaming him for the problem, but does not resolve the remaining problem of ‘sin’ at all. Atheists such as Richard Dawkings (in his crusading book the God Delusion) believe themselves to have outgrown religion. What John Humphrys illustrates is that much of atheism and anti-religious argumentation reflects a failure to grow beyond adolescent rebellion against childhood authority figures.

The god that is rejected is their childhood idea of God, the god they learned about in Sunday School. And this is as it should be. As the apostle Paul said, ‘When I became a man I put away childish things’. Of course, a similar sort of thing can be said of many Christians who responded in spiritual adolescence to difficult questions by simply re-affirming the faith of childhood while pushing these questions to the background. I have met these in most of the churches I have been a part, avoiding challenges to faith with, ‘I know what I believe/feel, don’t bother me with facts’.

I sat in church this Christmas morning, and my perspective was renewed. We heard again this weekend the Gospel account of why God sent Jesus. These phrases leapt out at me: ‘He will save his people from their sins’; ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those whom he favours’; ‘He has raised up a mighty saviour for us…that we would be saved from our enemies…to give knowledge of salvation…by the forgiveness of sins…’; ‘He has brought down the powerful…and filled the hungry with good things.’

I was reminded that the purpose of God in Christ is freedom from the power of sin—of that which binds us to death—and to life and peace. We prayed together these words:

Come now, O Spirit of Christ,
And embrace us with your life-giving power,
That as bread and wine are made one with us,
We may become one with you,
Bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh,
Living our prayer and prayer your life
Until love and faithfulness embrace,
And peace and justice kiss,
And all are free as Christ is free.

I looked around at ‘my’ people gathered together, and saw the visible reality of these words, of this prayer, the theology written in lives.
Just across from me was M., who lost her mother this year; her Greek Orthodox father joining us from London this holiday; S., her son, labelled dyslexic, brought the gift of rice-crispy-treats that he made himself. Arriving late was M., from Darfur. Behind me was young M., 19 year-old asylum seeker from Congo, fending for herself since her father left her at age 15, and now told her application has been rejected. E., whom I call the ‘Ancient Woman’, arrived in time for the breakfast before the service (she never misses a meal). J., formerly a medium, baptized this Summer, now free from the oppression of the spirits (yes, very real). I., suffering divorce and loss of job this year. T., back from Japan, where her job took her the week after her wedding, and new husband M. still working here. My old friend K., whose daughter is with him this Christmas, saying before the service that it is a good Christmas. And C., who quietly responded to the grace of God to become a Christian this year, told us that he suddenly found Christmas carols to be full of meaning—while walking down the street singing ‘God rest ye merry, gentlemen’ one day, he suddenly stopped and thought, ‘Yes, there is good reason to rejoice!’

The common factor for all of us is the peace that the coming of Jesus has brought—in the midst of the reality of our lives. None of us has been magically distanced from the reality of the world we live in; but life has been transformed by the presence of God in Christ. And we are a family living in light of such grace.

It is difficult to find vocabulary to express this that doesn’t sound wholly religious, and run the danger of sounding trite. But this reality is so different from the sort of Christianity the media portrays regularly—the sort that is considered to be ‘dangerous’. [Not that Christ is not dangerous, but that the danger is not that which is commonly conceived.]

God has given to the humble the gift of life free from oppression; and filled that life with joy and peace—and ‘rightness’ and justice; and forgiveness and reconciliation. I have seen it just this week. As we broke bread together, the words of the common prayer became significant once again, ‘Though we are many, we are one body, because we all share one bread’. In that hour, that sharing of Christ, I saw the reality of the Christian perspective of world: our lives have been transformed into a shared manifestation of the Kingdom of God. The future hope has arrived, in a down payment, in the present. Christ has come among us, and we are not what we used to be.

Oh, dear. Too religious again. To put it another way: as we shared ‘the peace’ together, there was much hugging. It took a long time, because everyone hugged everyone else. No simple handshakes today. No polite pieties. Instead, an affirmation of the bond of love in Christ which means that each one matters immensely to each other one.

And that bond keeps us through the dark and difficult days.

I wish more people could grasp this.