Christmas Day 2010
Why, dear friends, dear brethren, are we here? What are we doing in this Abbey Church in the middle of the night, in the hours of darkness, when we could be asleep in the warmth of our beds? Are we just creatures of habit, doing what we always do on this day? Surely our presence must be more than just habit for the night is cold and the roads are icy. Are we simply commemorating the events that happened 2000 years ago? But that could be done by a feast at home: we do not need to brave the elements and deprive ourselves of sleep to be here if we want to commemorate a birthday or significant anniversary worthily. I pose the question again: why are we here?
There are two nights when Christian people pass the night or part of the night in a vigil of prayer: Christmas and Easter. Of the two Easter is by far the greater feast and yet Christmas tends to evoke a greater popular response: our Churches house the crib and they tend to be better populated: there is joy in the air we are breathing. I shall not attempt to give a complete explanation of this phenomenon but I think that it has something to do with the fact that at Christmas God makes himself smaller and somehow more understandable: he advances into our world to meet us. He meets here in this Abbey Church, he meets us in our homes. At Christmas God in the form of the Christ-child is, somehow, a familiar visitor.
And that, perhaps, is both a good thing but also something of a disappointment. It is a good thing that in the midst of secular Britain we still want to pause in the middle of winter and celebrate a Christian feast. It is a good thing when Christ really is at the centre of Christmas. It is a disappointment if Christ remains only a familiar visitor; welcomed at Christmas but otherwise held at arm’s length at the periphery of our lives. So perhaps tonight, if we have been keeping God at bay, we might begin to allow him into the whole of our lives.
Let us begin by reflecting on those words of Scripture which have been laid before us tonight. When Isaiah of Jerusalem wrote of the people that walked in darkness he was writing as the rise of the Assyrian superpower darkened the lives of those living in Judah and Israel. Yet his words held a particular resonance for the Hebrews living in Exile in Babylon 150 years later and they continued to speak loudly to our Jewish forebears at the turn of the eras when they lived in the darkness of Roman Imperial Rule. The words of Isaiah continue to resonate with Christians, with us, today. We live in a post Christian era, when the concept of Christendom seems to be lost for ever. We are assailed on all sides. Christians in China, in Pakistan, in India, in Iraq, in Israel are being attacked for their Christian faith. In many part of the developed world our own Church is attacked by corruption from within and by vilification from without. Truly it can seem that we live in darkness. But it is into this darkness that the light can break.
The Gospel tells us that there were shepherds, in the countryside, watching their flocks by night. The countryside was not the well-manicured fields that we see around us: it was wild and rugged. Grass was scant, water precious, predators commonplace, and shepherds tough and unromantic. Each animal in the flock was significant for the well-being of the community and so the shepherds watched over their flocks in the starlit darkness of the night. And as they watched they saw the heavens torn open. They saw the heavens torn open because they were awake and watching just as tonight we are awake and watching. And the messenger of God said, ‘Do not be afraid. Listen I bring you news of great joy’. We know these words so well – and we know the words which follow... The angel directs those watchers to Bethlehem in order that they may encounter the Christ of God. One reason why we may be here tonight is that we, too, want to encounter God – and that hope will not be disappointed. Christ is among us tonight just as surely as he was present for the shepherds when in the manger at Bethlehem. When the night is dark; when hope is at its lowest ebb; when we no longer rely on human ingenuity or the unaided human will but are ready to wait and to watch; wait and watch for God; then, perhaps, we may sense God’s action and discover the real presence of God among us, changing us as he changed those who encountered him all those centuries ago.
For God does change those who have been overshadowed by his Spirit, those who have accepted him into their lives. Paul tells us so in the second reading. God’s grace has been revealed and it has made salvation possible for the whole human race. All we have to do is give up everything that does not lead to God; we must give up purely worldly ambition; we must welcome the light, the child, into our lives. He must grow greater and we must diminish. This is an essential part of the feast of Christmas. Christmas is our beginning: we receive the child into our darkened hearts. We pray that the dawning light will brighten and transform us; that the child will grow within us so that we, individually and collectively, will become Christ for our world.
Dear brothers and sisters, if we are here tonight because we yearn for that life-changing encounter with God, then let us remember that He communicates Himself to us in Word and in Sacrament. He has spoken to us in the words of Sacred Scripture and now He summons us to draw near to His Altar and receive His Body and Blood in Holy Communion. He invites us to allow Him to work within us, to grow within us – and he commissions us to go out into our world and walk in his footsteps so that the world may be changed from the world we have created, a broken and defiled world, into the world he created, where the wolf dwells with the lamb, and the leopard lies down with the kid; where the sucking child plays over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child puts his hand on the adder’s den; where there is no hurt or destruction because the earth is filled with the knowledge of the Lord.
Such a life is costly. It cannot be lived with our own unaided strength. We will need the strength given by God himself and the encouragement offered by our brothers and sisters in the faith. And yet, each year at Christmas we see this life lived out – if only for a day or two. We see self-forgetfulness, concern for others, love for those who are usually regarded as unlovable. If only we Christians could live the Christmas life, the Christ-filled life, all day every day. But let us not be discouraged. Let us at least set ourselves to begin once more. Let us make this Christmas time a time of peace and joy, generosity and friendship for our corner of the world. What we begin tonight may, with God’s help, endure into eternity.
Abbot Cuthbert Madden OSB