Text: Matthew 11.2-15
When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent
word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are
we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear
and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin
disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have
good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about
John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the
wind? What, then, did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look,
those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What, then, did you go out to
see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about
whom it is written,
‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare
your way before you.’
“Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has
arisen greater than John the Baptist, yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is
greater than he. From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of
heaven has suffered violence, and violent people take it by force. For all the
Prophets and the Law prophesied until John came, and if you are willing to
accept it, he is Elijah who is to come. Let anyone with ears listen!
___________________________________________________
So here we are, in the middle of Advent – the time of
waiting, and preparing for the coming of the Lord. Not that you’d know it from the Christmas
displays all over the place! Yesterday,
as I drove our new friends from Pakistan back from the airport, they were
amazed at all the Christmas decorations festooning shop windows throughout the
town. Coming, as they do, from a strict
Islamic society, such displays of Christmas are really unusual to them.
Of course, I explained to Naveen and his family that I really
don’t approve of all this pre-Christmas celebration. According to the church calendar, Christmas
doesn’t start until the 25th of December. Christmas trees and Christmas decorations absolutely
should not be taken out of the boxes until Christmas Eve! And, of course, they should all come down
again on the 12th night after Christmas. But such traditions mean nothing to the world
around us, do they? The merchants of the
world can’t wait to start selling all the presents and Christmas tat we want to
buy. This year, adverts in our local
pubs, inviting us to book our Christmas dinners, were displayed in August!
But, woe betide the grumpy Vicar who tries to push against
this tide of commercialism and profit-making!
There’s a story about a predecessor of mine, here at St Faith’s, who once
made the grave error – or so it is said – of banning the playing of Christmas
carols in the church until Christmas Eve.
This, I’m told, was not a popular decision with the members of the
Mothers Union, who wanted to put on a Christmas market in early December. But I confess to having some sympathy with my
predecessor’s instincts.
History tells us, that both I and my predecessor are by no
means the first Christian leaders to be suspicious of it all. During the brief years of the English
Republic, under Oliver Cromwell, Parliament passed a law, in 1647, which banned
the celebration of Christmas altogether.
The Puritans, who were in a period of brief control, thoroughly
disapproved of all the drunkenness and frivolity. They disliked the waste and the racking up of
debt for the purchase of Christmas presents which poor people could barely afford. Special services and feasting were banned,
and fines were imposed on anyone who ignored it. This was not a popular measure with the
general populace, though. Riots took
place in Kent and elsewhere. In 1652,
the Government re-inforced the ban with even tighter rules. But ultimately, the Puritans lost the battle,
and after the restoration of the Monarchy, the full excess of Christmas
returned with a bang.
Commercialized Christmas has become a millstone around many
families’ necks. This is even more the
case at a time of the steeply rising cost of living. There are families all over this country who
seriously worry about how they can afford to give their children the mountain of plastic toys that children
expect today. Some will go into
considerable debt, so that their little darlings won’t think that Santa loves
them less than the child next door. Worse
still, at time of environmental crisis, Christmas requires the cutting down of
millions of trees, for wrapping paper and cards, crackers and party hats, let
alone actual trees to display in our churches and homes. No doubt huge quantities of oil are used in
the manufacture and shipping of all those plastic toys, wrapped in yet more
cardboard, to be played with once on Christmas day, and then donated to charity
shops and rubbish tips a few weeks later.
But there is little I can do to shift the public mood. Like John the Baptiser, I feel like a voice
crying in the wilderness: “Make straight the highway for the coming of the Lord!”.
In other words, “make your path towards Christmas one of increasing holiness,
increasing charity, increasing reflection on the deep truths of the earth-shattering,
paradigm-shifting Nativity of our Lord.” But I know that I am wasting my breath.
So, like many who feel like me, I shrug my shoulders, switch
on the Christmas lights, and attend the rolling carousel of pre-Christmas school
concerts, turkey dinners, and festive concerts.
Until, with everyone else, I slump exhausted in my chair on Christmas day. People are rarely ready to hear the radical
message of Christmas – the uncomfortable truth that Christmas doesn’t arrive
with Santa, and stockings, and mince pies, and turkey and plastic toys, and
mulled wine and Christmas trees, and concerts and greetings cards and crackers
and lights. It arrives in the depths of
darkness, with the cry of a baby, utterly dependent on the love of his parents. Born in poverty. Born to die. “Born to raise the sons of earth, boprn to
give them second birth”; the birth of the Spirit of God within every human
soul. Christmas arrives with the attempt
of a King – Herod - to kill God’s revolution in its cradle – just as
Palestinian children are being killed right now in the same streets, in the
land called Holy. Christmas arrives with
a radical message of peace on earth, sung by angels, calling humanity to a new
way, a better way, the way of radical forgiveness and the constant quest for
peace. “Oh hush the noise, ye men of
strife, and hear the Angels sing!”
Perhaps this is why Jesus later said of John the Baptiser
that he was greater than any other person of woman born. By his choice to live apart from the world,
eating locust and honey in the desert, calling the people to radical change, to
repentance, to baptism, John was planting his radical ‘no’ to the customs and
the waste of his own time. But, as we
heard in this morning’s gospel, as great as he was, John is less than the least
in the Kingdom of Heaven. John’s
response to the waste, and the violence, and the greed of his time was to stand
apart from it all – to disappear into the desert, and to live off the meagre
offerings of the land. But Jesus brought
the Kingdom of Heaven into reality…and he didn’t do it in the desert. Jesus arrived in the midst of humanity, in a town so crowded that he had to be born in a
stable. He lived alongside people,
feasting with them, celebrating with them, being one of them, but also apart
from them.
This then, is the trick that we inheritors and progenitors of
the Kingdom need to learn. Being a
grumpy old moaner about the waste and frivolity of Christmas actually gets us
nowhere. Running away screaming from the
silly season may be very appealing, just as it was for John the Baptiser in the
desert. But joining in, embracing the
madness, and finding ways to turn eyes away from the darkness, and towards the
light of the world….that is the way of Jesus, and the way of the kingdom. Being born into the muck and the chaos of
humanity – that’s the way of Jesus.
Being present for the poor shepherd, the misguided wise man, the
homeless drunk, the struggling parent: that is the way of the Lord. And that, my friends, is the true message of
Christmas.
Amen
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