• Christmas Day Sermon 2015

    It is quite a number of years since I spent Christmas with my parents. Ordination tends to give one other things to do at this time of the year than to race about the country trying to keep a family Christmas. And in any case, I rather like the Christmas I keep these days. The carols, the lights decorating the church, the folk who come to keep festival here and the crib sitting under the altar are almost all I need for the perfect Christmas nowadays. Add in a tub of Waitrose custard after my Christmas dinner and I’m happy as a Provost can be.

    But the sight of just about any Christmas Crib does make me think every year of Christmases with my family in Yorkshire very many years ago.

    My mother is a good deal more crafty and creative than I am. It was her wont to decorate the house afresh each year with homemade Christmas decorations. One year, she was particularly proud of a Crib Scene that she had made. It wasn’t made of wood or clay or plaster figures but made entirely of felt.

    Each of the figures was cut out in silhouette from dark green felt and using the mystical medium of hidden blue tac, attached to the wall of the hallway right where anyone coming to the house would pass by.

    It was an elegant scene. Joseph, Mary and the babe in the manger were accompanied of course by the donkey that they had brought with them on their travels.

    The trouble with this crib scene for me was that it was too tempting to add modifications. The deeper trouble is that my sadly lacking artistic skills meant that there were very few felt shapes that I could make convincingly to look like anything at all. However, I will yet confess a great pride when my parents friends all arrived for a party one year to be greeted by Joseph, Mary and the babe in the manger accompanied by a large and menacing shark that they had brought with them on their travels.

    I thought this the funniest thing that I had ever seen. (And still do). My mother did not share that view. (And still doesn’t).

    I was reminded of this a few days ago when browsing through my Facebook feed when I caught site of a nativity scene in a cathedral down south which had along with the donkey, camel and sheep in the stable a very carefully placed dinosaur.

    Apparently it appears there every year. And each year it reminds them that when we are dealing with what happened in Bethlehem we are dealing with truths that transcend the ages. For Christians celebrate the paradox that if God was in the world in one particular place and time then God in Christ is in the world in every place and time.

    In another picture of children who had been asked to come to church dressed for a nativity service, one young soul had come as a unicorn.

    And in a famous Christmas film there’s a walk on part in the stable for a lobster.

    What you see in the crib may not be what you expect to see.

    It is a tradition too in many parts of Europe to add figures to the crib scene who represent contemporary life. Popes and politicians find themselves suddenly at Bethlehem and often in poses which emphasise in a rather vulgar way their humanity rather than their greatness.

    There seems to be something about that tradition of adding the incongruous and the impossible and the slightly absurd to the Bethlehem scene that is about something a bit more than me having fun at my mother’s expense.

    What you see in the crib might not be what you expect to see.

    The scene that we represent in the crib is of course our way of understanding great truths. And it is the truths that the crib scene tell that are the important thing. Far more important than any argument over whether any figures are historical or not.

    The ox and the ass are mentioned not at all in the bible but since St Francis of Assisi first put together a crib the animals have represented the fact that the whole of creation was redeemed by God’s interest in the world – not just what human beings might happen to think at any given moment.

    And the greatest truth is that God is come into the world. That meant great change for Mary and Joseph as all babies bring change. But the theological truth that the story of Christ’s coming into the world celebrates is that all that makes us downcast will ultimately be beaten. Every form of suffering will ultimately be overcome. For love wins out – God’s love is present in this world.

    It is this truth that gives me hope even in the face of some terrible current realities.

    That means I believe that the current wicked government policy of punishing the most vulnerable with so-called benefit sanctions will one day be overcome.

    That means I believe that forms of prejudice that I see and even the forms of prejudice that I don’t see from my place of privilege will one day be undermined.

    And this year of all years, we remember as we worship the Christ child that we worship a baby who hardly had time to lie at peace in Bethlehem before he became a refugee.

    Christians join with all people of goodwill in working for a world that welcome’s the refugee because our God is one of them. We don’t just welcome the refugee, we worship one.

    And that’s why I believe that more people in desperate need and never ending distress should be able to build a new life in this country. For every time I look into a crib this Christmas I see a child who needs to be kept safe from harm.

    What you see when you look into a crib may not be what you expect to see.

    So, this Christmas as we celebrate with wonder and delight that God has come to us, I ask of you nothing other than that you look into the Crib yourself and let God speak to you.

    What you see there may be far from what you expect.

    For God has come into the world and loves it.

    And God is come into your world and loves you too.

24 responses to “Good Vicar, Bad Vicar”

  1. Josh Avatar

    Being a good vicar to stony, unreceptive hearts might require a pickaxe to reveal gemstones within. It must be tough to minister to jerks and meanies, no? We lose faith in people easily – I certainly do. But a good vicar – a loving parent – doesn’t give on up one’s children.

    A good vicar might depend on the eye of the beholder. Whether you believe vicars and congregations are intrinsically good or evil might get you called a Pelagian or an Augustinian depending on who you ask. Faith in the work of a vicar or the reception of the congregation depends on good faith and co-operation – what then do we place our faith in? Hardly Protestant thinking, when faith is dependent on work, manifestation, and epiphany. A bad vicar might be sent to good people. A good vicar might be sent to bad people. Whether a vicar or congregation is subjectively or objectively good is a difficult question to answer.

    It is then that I prefer to see both the vicar and congregation not as “good” or “bad” but rather as equally “beloved”. However large the congregation, or even the vicar’s skill shouldn’t matter then. But that raises the question: Who then do we love if we are so beloved by God? Perhaps love might be the answer. A vicar and congregation who sees and knows themselves as equally and lavishly beloved of God will love each other. Love makes congregations meaningful and precious, no matter how small they might be.

  2. Josh Avatar

    And if I might add to my previous comment – And love also makes vicars meaningful and precious, no matter how small the congregation might be.

  3. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Yes – things which make the practicalities of small congregations include:
    the laity in most senior positions find it hard to see the inclusive love of God and to see the value of prayer and spiritual exercises, a shortage of laity with administrative abilities, a tiny handful of parishioners prepared to insist on unhelpful things all the time (the oldest liturgies every week, the kind of behaviour small children cannot sustain all service long, particular dress in those at church on Sunday to name but a tiny selection). In a larger church these things can be contained (one nasty comment for lady x outweighed by five or six lovely ones or simply finding somebody to be treasurer who can cope with the job). In a small church, however good the vicar, the nasty comment carries more weight, and the sorting out of the finances may take days of clergy effort. It is always hard to get from a tiny congregation to a large one.

    That said, I have sat through sermons so mind-numbingly boring and inappropriate that I have actually moved to another church.

  4. Paul Waddington Avatar
    Paul Waddington

    If one looks at the larger picture, the Archbishop’s optimism seems misplaced.

    According to the 1851 census, about five million people attended a Church of England service on the census day (a Sunday). The population of England and Wales at the time was about 17 million. These are round figures and I know that there were difficulties with the religious census, but they are good enough to demonstrate my point. Roughly speaking, about 30% of the population attended a CofE that Sunday.

    Recently published figures estimate average Sunday attendance at CofE churches at about 900,000. That is about 2% of the population of England. Wales is now excluded.

    So taking the long view, the trend is rather depressing for the CofE. Compared with 1851, fourteen out of fifteen no longer attend church regularly.

    As an aside, the 1851 census indicated a church attendance for Catholics of about 350,000. That is about 2% of the population. I understand that the current figure is very similar for Mass attendance is also around 900,000 or 2% of the population.

    Other recent research has indicated that the age range of CofE congregations is skewed towards the upper end. Certainly in my local parish, it is unusual to see anyone under the age of 60. I do wonder how many there will be in, say, 15 years time.

    1. Kelvin Avatar

      Thanks Paul – I find that bishops generally tend to accentuate the positive when it comes to thinking about numbers in church. Whether that is because they only go to events that are comparatively well attended or whether it is actually because it is their job to be upbeat about possibilities is not clear to me.

  5. Pam Avatar
    Pam

    It is complicated – ‘good’ and ‘bad’ – poor adjectives. The rector is the leader of the congregation and needs support and trust. But, I think, no longer is the vicar held in such esteem as not to have to earn that support and trust. A good thing, mostly. Churches grow for all sorts of reasons – the level of involvement with non-believers, a prominent noticeboard and outstanding bikke and slice-makers all help.

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