What can we give? Our hearts

A sermon for Christmas Day 

Image: courtesy of BBC

Strictly Come Dancing has always offered glitter, glamour and a touch of escapism on a Saturday night. Perhaps in the disappointments, losses and struggles of this year, even more so. 

And here we are: a Christmas Day like none we expected. And here we are: a community welcoming this great little one whose all-all embracing birth brings earth to heaven, stoops heaven to earth.

In the final, Bill Bailey and Oti Mabusi performed to Queen’s iconic song The Show Must Go On. 

They lifted the glitter ball trophy, hours after we went into Tier 4. Bailey said: ‘It very much was a rallying call… People are going to be isolated at Christmas. This is not just a song about the arts. This is an anthem about not giving up, keeping hope, getting through this!’

Albin Polasek: Shepherds and Angels

And we too are called to not give up, to keep hope and to get through this: together.

We’ve kept going: carrying out our tasks at home, at work, amongst friends and in our community. Like the shepherds keeping watch over those things we’re responsible for.

And there have been glimmers of light: acts of kindness and generosity; phone calls and offers of help; checking in with neighbours; opening our hearts to each other in the midst of the strangeness and loss, anxiety and isolation.

Today we, like the shepherds, are called to respond to a greater hope, a brighter light a deeper love.

Nicholas Mynheer: Nativity

For although, as Isaiah describes it, it can feel as if we are in a land of darkness: of social distance, financial pressure, disrupted eduction and uncertain futures, there is a new dawn.

A child has been born for us: after the pain of labour, in the frailty of our flesh, here is love.

God acts to transform the world, to open our hearts, through the greatest power there is.

Love.

Speechless and crying to be fed; dependent and carrying all authority.

This little one is our mighty God; the source of counsel and peace. 

In this little one, fear is turned to love; despair to hope; isolation to friendship; hurt to trust.

Dinah Roe Kendall: The Shepherds went to see the Baby

The shepherds seek out this little one of great love.

The heart of the good news we celebrate today is God is with us.

That God loves us and will not let us go.

Limitless love in frail flesh.

Risking all; enfolding us in its fullness.

Abundant. Unconditional.

Calling forth love.

In this little one, we see a  love bridges every social distance; teaching us new body language of care. 

Refusing to give up; keeping hope; getting through this with love.

Luke will go on to tell of this boy growing in wisdom and debating in the temple; eating with tax collectors and pharisees; embracing women and men, old and young; healing, teaching, forgiving, restoring.

Joseph holding Jesus while Mary sleeps

For now this little one knows the vulnerability of every human need.

This little one will bear great love in suffering, dying and rising to new life.

It is a love that wins: the Word of God with us that has the final word.

The Christ-child comes to set us free to love:

to love God; to love ourselves; to love others.

This love is the main thing: it does not leave the world unchanged.

May this love keep us going in the disappointments, losses and struggles;  strengthen us to get through this with hope and perhaps a little joy too.

As we kneel before our crib, and sing joyful carols, may we ponder the wonder of this birth.

We ponder love that makes us whole; and let us give all that we are, for those who live under the shadow of darkness.

The carol at the end of today’s service speaks the earth as hard, the winter is bleak; yet the angels fill the heavens with light and song; it is Mary who cradles Jesus, kisses him; Joseph who takes him as his mother rests. 

This little family cradling love human and divine: drawing us to this light of love and hope. 

What can we offer or give, knowing we are loved this much? 

Our hearts.

Open the door; open our hearts; ponder what we find.

You are loved.

When the miracle happened it was not 

with bright light or fire - 

but a farm door with the thick smell of sheep 

and wind tugging at the shutters.

There was no sign the world had changed for ever

or that God had taken place;

just a child crying softly in a corner, 

and the door open, for those who came to find.

Nativity: Kenneth Steven [printed in the Church Times]

© Julie Gittoes

 

Writing about humanity

A sermon from Evensong 1 September: Isaiah 33:13-22 and John 3:22-36

Writing in one of today’s papers, Johanna Thomas-Corr writes: ‘The hoopla around the lunch of Margaret Atwood’s The Testaments is more reminiscent of the unveiling of an iPhone or something Pokémon related that that of a mere book’.

The Testaments is the long awaited sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale: a dystopian novel which has gained a new audience as a restful of its Emmy award winning TV adaptation. It’s the most borrowed book from London libraries; sales have increased 160% since the title of its swap was revealed. 

It tells of ecological disaster; the dismantling of democracy; the erosion of women’s rights. It was chilling when it was published 34 years ago; now the red-clocked handmaidens with their white bonnets stand as a symbol of women’s resistance. 

There’s something prophetic about Atwood’s work: she’s described as being before her time but perhaps that’s precisely because she’s so attuned to the dynamics and pressures of the world we live in. As Thomas-Corr’s profile peace puts it: ‘if there’s something that interests her about humanity, she’ll write about it.'

Isaiah, as we’ve noted in recent weeks, is also alert to the dynamics and pressures of his own world. He notes the way power shifts and discerns where false hopes lie. He calls out the lies and smooth words. He names those things which are illusory or which will lead to death and destruction. 

Yes, he is interested in humanity; but that’s not all he speaks and writes about. 

He speaks about humanity in relation to the world - but that is shaped by his primary commitment to the words and commandments of God.

He names the ways of the godless: the evil doers; the reckless; and the sinful: who despise the call to justice and mercy.

He names the ways of the righteous: those who aren’t susceptible to bribes; who do not profit from oppression; who speak of what is right and hesitance themselves from evil.

He names the ways of the Lord: who will judge and rule and save; whose majesty is to be acknowledged; who commandments are to be understood.

Jerusalem is to be the quiet habitation of the Lord: restored and rebuilt that God’s people might be healed and built up.

Isaiah spoke in later chapters of God’s messiah; the suffering servant. It is this one, chosen and beloved, who will dwell with us in the habitation of our flesh.

John the Baptist was interested in the stuff of humanity: naming our need to turn to God; to find hope, forgiveness and a new beginning.

John also names the stuff of God: knowing that he was not the Messiah, but the one going ahead to prepare the way. The one who captured imaginations, aroused curiosity and made our hearts and mind receptive to the Lord’s beloved Son.

His joy was fulfilled when he sees his beloved cousin on the banks for the Jordan: he baptised him in solidarity with the fragility and potential of our human condition. 

He beholds him afresh today: knowing that he must decrease for God’s Son to increase. He points others to him. 

He points to this one who is above all; who abides with the Father.

He points to this one who knows the earth; who is flesh of our flesh.

He points to this one who will give the Spirit measure upon measure.

This is our Lord.

The Word who gives voice to our hopes and our salvation.

This Word is beloved of the Father.

Humanity is of interest to this Word.

Our Lord sees us and loves us.

We abide in the hands of this one.

In ecology, democracy and feminism: the words of the Word challenge us.

Our Lord calls us to obedient love.

Moment by moment, this love calls us to live lightly and intensely.

Calling us to speak and to act: for the sake of the eco-systems of which we’re apart; for the sake of our social and political life; for the sake of the equitable treatment of women and men.

This Word is heaven touching earth; and raising earth to heaven.

His Spirit leads us to echo the prophetic cries for mercy, justice and truth.

That we too may give word to that which builds up and renews.

We do so in the assurance that in this Word of love, even death is but the beginning of life.

© Julie Gittoes 2019