In the beginning of December, we had a Christmas tree festival in the church. It was joyful and beautiful, there was music, mulled wine and mince pies, the church was light and warm. That is, until you had to leave, because on some days it was positively disgusting outside. Christmas lights and cheer in the church and rain and darkness in the rest of Barnard Castle were like two completely separate realities.
Christmas can be a form of escapism, both in the church and at home. After the rush of preparation is over, Christmas is a day like no other. We have the perfect excuse to eat more than fills us and drink more than we probably should. We bring a whole tree into our homes and put some nice lights and ornaments on it, and it looks so lovely and warm on a dark winter evening! We have crackers, wear funny jumpers and do other weird and wonderful things, just because it is Christmas – a time like no other. If anything, some of our Christmas traditions are designed to help us escape the gloominess and darkness of the winter.
But, sadly, once Christmas is over, we, yet again, end up outside in the rain. In the course of the year, Christmas is but a brief moment when, suddenly, things are different.
I think this year, the contrast between this moment of joy and everything else is even more notable and stark than before. The struggles and challenges are overwhelming, both on the world stage and in this country. I am sure, to add to that, there are things in your own lives that trouble you too. I have to admit to feeling quite anxious about the future and frequently worrying about the prospect of a war. When I asked my sister-in-law what sort of a message she would like to hear in the church at Christmas, she said ‘Oh I don’t know, everything is just quite depressing, isn’t it’. Whatever is happening to the world, I think we all are feeling it, perhaps to a different extent but I’m sure we all are. Perhaps Hegel was right and there is such a thing as ‘the Spirit of time’, and the Spirit for our time is that of fear and division.
Under such circumstances, escapism is – understandably – very desirable. Christmas can be a magical grotto where we can get distracted from everything else that is not magical enough. And wouldn’t it be nice to stay here!
Elvis Presley sang, ‘Why can’t every day be like Christmas? For if every day could be just like Christmas what a wonderful world this would be.’ What a great idea! Except this is not something that is going to happen, certainly not in a way that we may instantly think of – presents, joy and carols every day. But it actually can happen in a way that is less obvious. If Christmas is about welcoming Christ then we can keep on doing this every day.
Another well-known Christmas song, ‘O little town of Bethlehem’, has this line in it, ‘The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight’. At Christmas, we talk about joy and hope and love, but it can be difficult to relate these things to our normal everyday life if outside Christmas, there is anxiety, fear and stress. This line is a good reminder that Christ is here not only for joy and hope and other lovely things but also for fears, darkness and mess. Once he has been born, he is staying, but if we lock him in the magic grotto at the end of the holidays and leave, he can’t come with us.
Like a dog is not just for Christmas, Christ isn’t either. Christmas has reduced him to a cute meek little baby, so we may forget that he is God – powerful, merciful, just, loving and bringing light into the darkest places. This is what the reading from the Gospel of John reminds us of. Christ is the true light that shines in the darkness, a light so bright that the darkness will never overcome it. He was here from the very beginning, in a mysterious way, before he was born as a baby, and in the same mysterious way he is still here after he died and was raised on Easter Sunday. And his light still shines into the darkest of times. It shone during the Thirty Year War in the 17th century, when German priest Martin Rinkart was writing hymns we still sing today in the church, praising and thanking God. He was writing them, moved by Christ, while burying up to 50 people a day. The light was shining during the famous football game when the First World War essentially stopped for Christmas; it was shining during floods, fires, revolutions, pandemics and terrorist attacks. It shone in every moment of darkness throughout our history and it does shine today, whatever is happening around us. Don’t lock this light away, don’t leave him in this magical Christmas world. Take him with you, because if you do, every day will indeed be just like Christmas. Amen.