Sermons

Christmas Eve
Wednesday 24 December 2008 at 11.30pm

David Paton-Williams

And is it true?
That's the question that John Betjeman poses in his well-known poem "Christmas".

A reminder of the last three verses of Betjeman.

And is it true? And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a child on earth for me?

And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single truth compare -
That God was Man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

And is it true?

Well, it depends what you are thinking about. That there was snow on the hills of Bethlehem that night? Probably not. Snow in the holy Land is pretty rare even in winter, and we have no idea what time of year this was.

That there was an enormous star twinkling 100 foot above the stable? No. Though in the year that scholars think Jesus was born
Jupiter and Saturn converged three times to create what would have seemed like a bright new star, that moved across the sky.

That the wise men arrived hot on the heels of the shepherds. Probably not. By the time the wise men arrived, Matthew tells us that the holy family had moved out of the stable into a house.

That it was a silent night around on the streets of Bethlehem. Highly unlikely. The streets would have been heaving and the inns would no doubt have been crammed full of visitors, all celebrating the end of their own journeys back to the ancestral town for the census.

That there was a wonderful hush as the baby was born? Definitely not. As I am sure that anyone who has given birth without anaesthetic can testify. No. All of these bits of the way we visualise the Christmas scene owe more to Nativity Plays, Christmas Cards, some of our carols, or even the Life of Brian, than they do to what the Bible tells us about Jesus' birth.

All those trimmings and sentimentality may give us a nice warm glow for a while but it isn't all that much use to us when we have to face the realities of life.

But is it true what St John says, that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us full of grace and truth,

Is it true, as Betjeman puts it, "That God was Man in Palestine."

Is it true that in the birth, life and death of Jesus God was with us, sharing our lives, our joys and pains, our achievements and our failures and all that makes up being human?

Is it true that the light of God's love shone through the whole life of Jesus from the darkness of Bethlehem to the darkness of Calvary, and that the darkness has never put it out?

And is it true?
Betjeman suggests that the answer to that question could be the most important one we ever come to

Although he was never totally sure himself, he knew that if it was true then this would be the single most important thing in life
- that nothing else compares to it
- not even the love shared within our families - quite a claim

Whether it is true or not is a question that each one of us has to answer for ourselves.

The Christian church is made up of those who would answer with a "yes"; or a "probably yes" or a "possibly yes".

It is made of ordinary people like us, who don't pretend to know all the answers, but who are on the journey .

The church is made up of the people who believe that the best clue we have to what God is like and what human life is meant to be
can be found in the gospel accounts of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

And one reason why Christians believe that is that we have begun to find something of that same light of God shining in our lives as well, as we have begun to place our faith and trust in Jesus.

We believe that despite the darkness which sometimes blights our lives
- our problems, our loneliness, our depression,
- our guilt or shame
- our relationship breakdowns and failures to love
- our worries about recession and global warming
- our concerns for the blighted people of Zimbabwe and elsewhere

that despite all these things and more we have a sense that God is still with us and in us.

Christians believe that the still small voice inside us is, at least sometimes, the voice of God
- nudging us, challenging us, encouraging us and calling us onwards

We believe that the reason we find strength to go on living and loving and coping is because God is with us, supporting and upholding us.

We believe that no darkness is too dark to separate us from the love of God, not even the worst thing we can imagine, not even the worst thing we may have done;

that in the darkness there is always a hand into which we can place our own - a hand of mercy and understanding.

We believe that we are never alone.

That whether we sense it or not, and some do and some don't, we are enfolded our whole life long by the grace of the one who made us and loves us.

We believe that in bread and wine we meet with him again, that he feeds us, nourishes us and refreshes us for the journey that in a mysterious yet real way as Betjeman puts it "He lives today in bread and wine."

The invitation to communion tonight/today is an invitation to respond with a "yes"

(or a "probably yes", a "possibly yes", or perhaps just a willingness to begin the journey to try to find out.)

And is it true? And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a child on earth for me?

What will your answer be?

Amen.

© St Edmund's Church, Roundhay