For many people religious or not, listening to and singing carols remains an important part of Christmas. There is a comfort and a peace in the words of so many of them. And that comfort and peace that Jesus came to bring and which we so often sing about is a comfort and peace we are called to share.
The shooting in Connecticut a week last Friday has rightly sent waves of disbelief and horror across the world. The debates have begun again over the use of guns in America and a great political argument seems to be looming… But what is far more important at this point is just to think about the loss of life of those barely out of nursery with so much to live for – it seems almost incomprehensible.
The question has understandably once again been asked how God can let this sort of thing happen. When faced with such a question my honest answer would have to be I don’t know. In many ways I think those who try to offer a reason are a little bit foolish or naïve…
I think that on occasions such as these there isn’t really any benefit in theorising about suffering. In his speech at the multi-faith service following the tragedy, a visibly choked President Obama said to an audience of stunned people with broken hearts: “Newtown, you are not alone.” He spoke of grieving alongside those who have lost.
This is a sentiment we often hear at times like this, but it is no less powerful…
And as we approach Christmas it’s good to reflect on the reality of this sentiment as we consider the role of God in the world because Jesus being born into the world is the ultimate symbol of a God who doesn’t just tell us we are not alone or float around us in some unreal, intangible way. This is the God who comes to not just be with us, but who became one of us.
The word ‘Emmanuel’ is a wonderful word – literally, ‘God with us’ – and that is what Jesus became – He was born into poverty. He was first put to sleep in the trough the cattle eat from. It’s almost offensively basic; smelly, dirty, awkward. Like the outcast refugee, there was nowhere for this travelling family.
This is God coming into the world as a baby – not in a Palace or with great political potential – in many ways his birth, which we sing about almost romantically in some of the carols offered a prophetic symbol of what his life would be - real, unexpected, subversive. Yet still steeped in glory, as in the angels’ song filling the sky and crowned with the significance of his kingship, represented in the gifts from the wise men.
Even a quick flick though the gospels shows Jesus as a man who lived life to the full, experiencing every possible emotion. This was the man who enjoyed the wedding party, who provided food for people when they were gathered to listen to him and there wasn’t enough. This was the man who cried at the death of his friend, the man who got down on his hands and knees in the dust to get some self-righteous men off the back of a hurting woman and the man who spent time with people who, quite simply, others wouldn’t have.
In our gospel reading this evening from the gospel of Matthew (Ch. 25), Jesus provokes this even further. Not only is he God-with-us, but here we see him embodied in the most unlikely way.
And it perhaps reminds us to ask where would we find Jesus this Christmas ?
It is surely with the refugee, far away from their homeland for whatever reason, seeking refuge and afraid of being sent back. It is with the child sat on a bunk bed in a children’s home waiting for somewhere he can call home.
It will be with the person in hospital or at home hoping for a friendly visit. With the person who is sick or grieving.
It will be with the prisoner separated from his family and locked up for many hours a day.
Or perhaps he’ll be with the people who are queuing up for a hot breakfast after another cold night on the street.
And of course he would be with those parents and families who have lost people in that shooting in Connecticut.
“Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,” said Jesus – and he said those words to us – With all of our imperfections and failings, we are to try and be those who feed the hungry, visit the sick, house the homeless and befriend prisoners.
God, in the person of Jesus moved into our society and we are called to be present in the dark, unwanted places, standing with the outcast, becoming ‘the poor’.
As Jesus mourned with those who mourn, so we are asked to stand alongside those people in Connecticut and with others in their grief. Our role may seem small – a prayer, maybe a hug. Maybe just letting someone know we care…
So while we sing out the great glad tidings of Christmas, praying that God would come and abide with us – as we prepare to celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace, may we too seek to be a people of comfort and peace. AMEN
The shooting in Connecticut a week last Friday has rightly sent waves of disbelief and horror across the world. The debates have begun again over the use of guns in America and a great political argument seems to be looming… But what is far more important at this point is just to think about the loss of life of those barely out of nursery with so much to live for – it seems almost incomprehensible.
The question has understandably once again been asked how God can let this sort of thing happen. When faced with such a question my honest answer would have to be I don’t know. In many ways I think those who try to offer a reason are a little bit foolish or naïve…
I think that on occasions such as these there isn’t really any benefit in theorising about suffering. In his speech at the multi-faith service following the tragedy, a visibly choked President Obama said to an audience of stunned people with broken hearts: “Newtown, you are not alone.” He spoke of grieving alongside those who have lost.
This is a sentiment we often hear at times like this, but it is no less powerful…
And as we approach Christmas it’s good to reflect on the reality of this sentiment as we consider the role of God in the world because Jesus being born into the world is the ultimate symbol of a God who doesn’t just tell us we are not alone or float around us in some unreal, intangible way. This is the God who comes to not just be with us, but who became one of us.
The word ‘Emmanuel’ is a wonderful word – literally, ‘God with us’ – and that is what Jesus became – He was born into poverty. He was first put to sleep in the trough the cattle eat from. It’s almost offensively basic; smelly, dirty, awkward. Like the outcast refugee, there was nowhere for this travelling family.
This is God coming into the world as a baby – not in a Palace or with great political potential – in many ways his birth, which we sing about almost romantically in some of the carols offered a prophetic symbol of what his life would be - real, unexpected, subversive. Yet still steeped in glory, as in the angels’ song filling the sky and crowned with the significance of his kingship, represented in the gifts from the wise men.
Even a quick flick though the gospels shows Jesus as a man who lived life to the full, experiencing every possible emotion. This was the man who enjoyed the wedding party, who provided food for people when they were gathered to listen to him and there wasn’t enough. This was the man who cried at the death of his friend, the man who got down on his hands and knees in the dust to get some self-righteous men off the back of a hurting woman and the man who spent time with people who, quite simply, others wouldn’t have.
In our gospel reading this evening from the gospel of Matthew (Ch. 25), Jesus provokes this even further. Not only is he God-with-us, but here we see him embodied in the most unlikely way.
And it perhaps reminds us to ask where would we find Jesus this Christmas ?
It is surely with the refugee, far away from their homeland for whatever reason, seeking refuge and afraid of being sent back. It is with the child sat on a bunk bed in a children’s home waiting for somewhere he can call home.
It will be with the person in hospital or at home hoping for a friendly visit. With the person who is sick or grieving.
It will be with the prisoner separated from his family and locked up for many hours a day.
Or perhaps he’ll be with the people who are queuing up for a hot breakfast after another cold night on the street.
And of course he would be with those parents and families who have lost people in that shooting in Connecticut.
“Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me,” said Jesus – and he said those words to us – With all of our imperfections and failings, we are to try and be those who feed the hungry, visit the sick, house the homeless and befriend prisoners.
God, in the person of Jesus moved into our society and we are called to be present in the dark, unwanted places, standing with the outcast, becoming ‘the poor’.
As Jesus mourned with those who mourn, so we are asked to stand alongside those people in Connecticut and with others in their grief. Our role may seem small – a prayer, maybe a hug. Maybe just letting someone know we care…
So while we sing out the great glad tidings of Christmas, praying that God would come and abide with us – as we prepare to celebrate the birth of the Prince of Peace, may we too seek to be a people of comfort and peace. AMEN
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