• Christmas Sermon

    One of the odd features of coronavirus time for me has been vivid dreams and disturbed sleep.

    I know that I’m not alone in this, I’ve heard others speak about it too.

    Particularly during the various lockdown experiences I’ve found myself suddenly sitting bolt upright at 3 in the morning trying to sort out my dreams from reality – something that hasn’t always been settled quickly.

    Perhaps modern life normally gives me so much contact with others that I work stuff out in the course of my day and sleep relatively undisturbed by dreams or nightmares.

    But these have not been normal times.

    Perhaps that experience of social isolation leading to vivid dreams connects me somehow with an ancient world when dreams were taken with the utmost seriousness.

    In the Christmas stories, God turns up at night as much if not more than in the day.

    Joseph is told in a dream to stick with Mary.

    The shepherds were famously watching their flocks by night when the news of the birth was told to them.

    The Magi see the star by night which leads them to Bethlehem.

    And then they in their turn are told in a dream to return by another road in order that the child be protected from wicked Herod.

    Night time matters in the nativity stories and you can feel the participants each in their way trying to sort their dreams from reality.

    What on earth were they seeing? What on earth were they hearing?

    Disturbed nights and puzzling days are all part of the Christmas story.

    For these were not normal times.

    There was a census on to start with and many people were not where they wanted to be.

    There was an occupation on by the Romans too and many people were not governed by those they wanted to be governed by.

    The shepherds might well have thought they were best out of it up on the hills. Away from the crowded town and minding their own business as much as they were minding their sheep.

    But into their world, the news of something far from normal breaks.

    Into their world, the message of the angels – do not be afraid.

    Into their world, the planting of a dream that has never died amongst all who have found the babe of Bethlehem.

    Glory to God in the highest heaven and on earth peace among those whom he favours.

    That a dream. Not a reality yet.

    That’s the dream.

    The one we keep alive.

    Over the last two years we’ve heard quite a lot about saving Christmas.

    Boris saves Christmas! The newspapers have proclaimed joyfully.

    Nicola says only a lockdown can save Christmas! The newspapers have proclaimed more cautiously.

    But salvation isn’t about how many people can eat a turkey – notwithstanding how difficult our current circumstances are.

    Salvation is that baby being born and a dream planted in people’s hearts.

    Of a God who is good to know, wonderful and loving and here right now.

    Of a world put right by those who dare to dream of peace on earth.

    Of a world put right by those who believe in goodwill to everyone.

    Of a world put right by those who catch hold of the vision of God’s intentions for us.

    Of a world put right by a babe in a manger who will inspire, save, heal, comfort, challenge and bless.

    Christmas only needs one saviour and it isn’t Boris Johnson nor any other politician.

    These are not normal times. And there are dreams to be dreamed.

    The coronavirus time has been a nightmare in so many ways. And we’re not out of it yet.

    But right now, remember that it is part of God’s dream that we love our neighbour as ourselves and at the moment, that means getting the vaccines and the boosters and wearing our masks.

    And there are dreams to be dreamed that are inspired by the babe in a manger that are well worth dreaming.

    I dream of churches renewed so that people find the babe of Bethlehem in them and are as amazed as the shepherds and tell everyone about it.

    I dream of good news of great joy in our common life. Of tyrants toppled. Of integrity in public life restored. Of time and space for all people to wonder.

    I dream of joy. I dream of love. And yes, I dream of this pandemic being over.

    Yet babies come in their own time.

    Christ is born in a world that was hurting.

    Christ is born in a time where disease was far more common than our own.

    Christ was born when conflict was common and peace only a dream.

    Christ didn’t come at a time when it seemed as though the world was sorted out enough for him to appear.

    He came into a world where people were sad, tired, grieving and in pain.

    And he came to them. And for them

    He comes this year into a world where people are sad, tired, grieving and in pain.

    And he comes to us. And for us.

    When I look into the manger, I start to dream of a world put right by God and those inspired by the message of the babe that I find there.

    It is a dream worth dreaming.

    For the Christmas story is not merely a collection of dreams to put behind us when daylight comes and sleep is over.

    The dream is worth dreaming for God’s love is a reality.

    And that love is here, and everywhere. In this world. And in human hearts.

    And is lying in a manger.

     

     

20 responses to “Becoming a Welcoming Cathedral”

  1. Meg Rosenfeld Avatar
    Meg Rosenfeld

    My husband and I became members of All Saints Parish, San Francisco not long after our first experience attending Sunday Mass in that charming little church in the notorious Haight-Ashbury district. At that time we’d been members for over 20 years of a parish in another diocese, but were beginning to stay in San Francisco on weekends. What inspired us to join All Saints as members was the receipt of a simple hand-written letter from the rector some two or three days later, saying it had been a pleasure to have us there and hoping we would come again. Neither of us had ever had such an experience in any church we’d attended. We were absolutely amazed (in a positive way!) and made up our minds then and there that we would, indeed, go back. Mind you, we were also welcomed by the official greeters, urged to come to coffee hour, and approached at coffee hour with friendly overtures from the regulars–which is not always the case in Episcopal churches, at least in California. I guess it was just the right balance between friendliness and respect for one’s privacy. In any event, we are still at All Saints, almost 20 years later, up to our ears in choir, committees, and activities. To me, it was the letter from the rector which did the trick. He (an introvert like myself) wasn’t too busy to acknowledge new people, and in a way which was totally unthreatening.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Thanks Meg – that’s a great story.

  2. Andrew Connor Avatar

    I go to a church which gets the coffee just right. But I don’t feel welcome.
    I go to a church which gets the welcome team just right. But I don’t feel welcome.
    I go to a church which denies that I was born gay and have chosen to love my same see partner whom I am not allowed to celebrate with. You see? I don’t feel welcome.
    The homilies never include such exclusion. Never did they mention my being part of the Us of the parish though.
    We have regular celebrations of love but not mine.
    Many speak of going home to love one another and others exhort us to reach out and love the stranger. But I am in the midst of you and m only loves if I deny my own self.
    There is indeed much still to do.
    Welcome in our Church? Discuss.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      I know Andrew. I know it all too well. And I know that the ease with which these loves can be spoken of here in St Mary’s in pulpit and pew is tragically remarkable in its rarity.

  3. Father Ron Smith Avatar

    Bravo, Kelvin. I always feel that we in the Church are standing in the place of Christ – who welcomes all. Agape, Fr. Ron, ACANZP

  4. Dharma Nicodemus Cuthbert Avatar

    Strangely enough about 1 hour before you posted this, I had been in a meeting in which one of the subjects discussed was getting more people to come to the church. The comments were full of “what can we do” I know that unless someone is willing to do outreach work nothing changes. I feel that as the church, St James the great, in Dingwall, will be having an open day when the refurbishment is complete, an ideal opportunity to raise the profile of the church.
    I have taken on board the difficulties of being welcoming and at the same time not being separate, as you put it us and them. I have had experience of being both, part of a group and the new face

  5. Janet Koch Avatar
    Janet Koch

    conscientize?

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