Christmas Eve
1989 (Year A), 24 December /
Advent 4
St Peter de Beauvoir Town
Christmas either blows hot or cold. There is little in between. It is, above all, a time for feeling the extremes of things. You either love it or hate it. It’s a time when families either enjoy each other’s company or disintegrate amid scenes of anger and recrimination. Maybe you’re in the middle of some such crisis at this moment and you’ve come here to give yourself just a little bit of space. It’s a time when the lonely wish they weren’t and those inundated by people long for peace. It’s a time of contrasts, for we are supposed to be together and yet to do that, to be together, we must be apart from so many others.
It’s a time for getting things right, or hopelessly wrong. I went to a special party this week. I’d never been invited before. As we began to leave some of the guests produced presents and gave them to each other. Nobody had thought to tell me of this and it never crossed my mind that this might happen so I took nothing. I got it wrong! Next year, if they invite me again, I’ll remember to take something with me.
And the extremes of our lives are present at Christmas. There is the birth obviously, in that incredibly powerful and most emotive story. It is there and with it, in many of the carols we sing, are the predictions and anticipations of death.
Birth and death, the very limits of our existence, through which we go entirely on our own and which demonstrate so clearly that we are alone, unite us strangely in joy and in sorrow. I have been, just a few hours ago to a party which was given as part of a memorial for someone who died at Christmas last year – there people, together in memory and sadness, remembered fondly.
Hopes and expectations surrounding the birth of a child are only two of the things shared by those whose common task it is to care for and love the child.
And that which we celebrate this evening pushes us to the very borders of life and death. Tonight we are taken beyond all that we know or could ever comprehend – into mystery – ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. And the mystery is that that which is beyond our understanding, beyond even the borders of our lives – floods into the centre of our being. He holds out arms to us, and looking at us as sometimes babies do, with an irresistible smile, discloses to us the very being of God. And with that he beckons us on. For God now dwells with us and we can see his glory.
In the midst of all the busyness of Christmas we need to find some space for quietness in order to let this amazing truth sink into the very depths of our hearts so that we can realise the meaning of it a bit more. Try and take the opportunity which this service provides to be present with God as he most assuredly is with us on this most holy of nights.
The birth of this child touched the whole of creation and made it one. On this most holy of nights, first the angels and then the shepherds, symbols for the whole of creation, heaven and earth, are joined together in one song ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace.’ The birth of a child united that which was before all things to that which we share now and all that will be.
And it’s not to the fantasy world we inhabit so much at Christmas that this child comes to. He reaches out and touches the world we live in with all its pain and hurt, its inhumanity and degradation.
It is to the people walking in a world of deep darkness that this child comes. To the people of Romania, Panama, South Africa, to those not even catered for by Crisis at Christmas. On them the light has dawned. And the light will bring peace. This is not a dream, for tonight at this blessed time, the liberator is amongst us. We can follow him, making visible something of the peace, liberty and righteousness of the kingdom which he will complete. It is not an impossibility. Tonight he is with us. We are united along with heaven and earth giving praise to God. Thanks be to God. AMEN