By Rev Paul Graham
I start with an admission. There is a difficulty with writing this particular article. It’s a predicament that faces me every issue, but is more obvious in this edition. The problem is relevance; I’m writing this article in November, but the lifespan of the magazine is December and January. How, then, can I write something of value that straddles Christmas and New Year without having (a) got there yet and (b) will be a memory once this article gets halfway through its shelf-life?
The answer is simple: I can either write something without value (what’s new there, you might ask) or ignore the problem. I’ll choose the latter and hopefully avoid the former.
So, Christmas is coming and whether the goose is getting fat or not depends on your observational skills. The commercial behemoth that is Christmas advertising is in full swing and you rarely enter a shop without being confronted by Slade, Wham or a Santa-hatted shop assistant. The commercialisation of Christmas is almost complete and we all join in the dance of excess, merriment and jollity. Except for those who don’t, won’t or can’t.
Because Christmas brings out both the best and worst in us.
For many, it’s a time of joy; a time of expectation, present lists, wishful thinking and hilarity. It’s about families, smiling children, sherry before lunch and the relief that the end of another year has been reached intact.
For others, it’s a time that brings into the harsh fairy-light glow of reality family breakdown, arguments, loneliness and isolation. It’s about anger, fear, worry, and sadness that comes with the realisation of all that has been lost this year and the dread of the year yet to come.
And it’s even more complicated than that; many enjoy their own company and the thought of sharing their Christmas with anyone else fills them with horror. There are those who don’t flicker at the mention of Cliff Richard, mistletoe or wine. Untouched and unconcerned by all the tinsel and tat, all they long for is a silent night alone.
What all this boils down to is that human life is complicated and Christmas is a great example of this vast complexity. Like a good old plum duff, the mix of humanity at Christmas is rich, fruity, stodgy and usually saturated with alcohol.
But Christmas is also ideal in reminding us that into this heady morass of humanity Christ breaks in. The scene in and around the stable is one of complex emotions; fear, wonder, pain, joy, confusion and delight mingle with the animals snuffling around the tiny intruder in their feeding trough. We encounter puzzlement in Nazareth, weariness in Bethlehem and rage in the Jerusalem throne room. We are witnesses to faithfulness on the hillside and on the journey from the Orient.
Not only do we encounter these things in their time, but we are also invited in to find our place in the story. Whether Christmas fills us with sad memories of what we have lost or joy in what we have received we can count ourselves among those around the manger. The wonder of Christmas is the width of the embrace that God offers through the gift of himself. We are all invited in, even those who feel the furthest out; God reaches out to the farthest boundaries of human experience and whispers “welcome in”.
This Christmas, and on into the New Year, let’s hear the words of John’s Gospel afresh and embrace them with the joy that is promised:
“The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighbourhood.” (John 1:14 from The Message)
