Each Christmas Ð for the past few years Ð a candle flame has arrived
here at St Peter & St Paul.
The flame has been carried here from Bethlehem Ð lit from a candle on
the very spot where it is believed that Jesus was born.
From there
it is carried all over Europe Ð and beyond Ð transported by members of the
Scouts and Guides. YouÕll see our flame burning in the south transept as you
come forward later for Communion.
The flame
is passed on as a symbol of the peace which was born in that place of peace,
Bethlehem. Bethlehem is the
subject of many Christmas card pictures.
I received a card this year with a picture of Mary and Joseph riding
their donkey to Bethlehem Ð a very traditional scene, except that it has been
placed on modern day Bethlehem, around which a wall has been built, 8 metres
high Ð thatÕs 26 feet
and if you
want to visualize the wall Ð itÕs just a bit higher than the point of the arch
above the entrance to the choir. Bethlehem today is almost cut off. Tourists wanting to visit Bethlehem are
now often taken instead to a nearby Jewish settlement and handed a pair of
binoculars.
Depending
on who is commenting on this 8 metre wall Ð it is either a good thing or an
evil thing. It is either
protecting innocent people from suicide bombers and snipers . . . or it is
causing untold hardship to another group of innocent people, preventing them
from getting to work, making it impossible to reach their hospitals, cutting
them off from the outside world. It leaves us wondering what is right and wrong
Ð what is truth and what is lies?
What has
happened to our world? . . . that even the place where peace was born is now a
place of such division and hatred that 26 feet of concrete is required to keep
them apart?
This past
year has also seen the release of two films which tackle this same question of
good and evil. The Lion the Witch
and the Wardrobe Ð the Chronicles of Narnia, that land set in permanent winter,
ruled over by the evil witch, is the story of how peace and justice are
restored. And ÒHarry Potter and
the Goblet of FireÓ, in which the young wizards continue their battle against
the evil of Voldemort.
I read a
comment the other day on the fact that Dumbledore, the head master of Hogwarts,
spoke not of the contrast between doing good or doing evil, but of doing what
is right, or doing what is easy!
That seemed to me to be a very profound insight into human life.
The wall
around Bethlehem could be said to be either good or evil Ð
depending on oneÕs point of view,
but to build a wall to separate communities will always be the easy
thing rather than the right thing.
When God
looked down on our divided world Ð our Creator didnÕt do the easy thing. The easy thing would have been to leave
us to our mess and go and start afresh in some other corner of the
universe. But this simple event
involving two homeless people taking shelter in a stable - models a very
different response. The baby in
the manger is the very opposite of pontificating from a safe distance about the
problems of the world. And itÕs
the opposite of building walls to keep problems apart. Jesus-in-the-manger is rather the way
of getting involved and making a difference Ð and it models a response which
can be made whatever the circumstances.
WeÕve seen
this contrast in those who responded to last Boxing DayÕs Tsunami; some who
pontificated that this was somehow GodÕs will on wicked people, a view which
leaves me wondering what sort of God they believed in Ð certainly not the God
who chose a stable to live in! In
contrast there were others who gave; they gave their money, their time, their
presence.
We see the
same contrast not only in the big things, but also in very ordinary situations.
Last night,
revellers in Godalming broke bottles along Church Street and as I was leaving
church this morning, two people came up to me and told me about it, asking if I
had a broom they could borrow. By
the time I had joined them with a dustpan and brush, there were half-a-dozen
people out there, sweeping away and attracting a crowd of puzzled
onlookers. How different from so
many reactions which just keep on walking, while muttering darkly about the
youth of today!
On this
night, the barrier between heaven and earth was shattered and God identified
himself with humanity Ð in all our joys and our sorrows. By breaking that barrier, God
showed us how we too can break barriers, even though that might be the hard
thing, rather than the easy response.
Whenever
there is separation, one of the parties needs to cross the barrier. Without that movement between alienated
communities and individuals, the walls will continue to grow. The Berlin Wall was just under four
metres Ð the Israeli wall is more than double that height. Where will it end, we wonder?
There have
been a number of calls recently (not least from our Archbishops) for us to find
someone who holds views very different to our own Ð and to start a
conversation. Not a conversation
based on the hope that weÕll persuade the other to change, but a conversation modeled on the one
which God started in the stable, where we go to the other, where we take the
initiative and where we listen more than we speak. For when God arrived, he couldnÕt speak at all - he was a
helpless baby . . . and yet in that manger lies the hope of the world, where we
learn that humility and love will break down barriers, whether they are built
of solid concrete or constructed of the resentment which drives people apart
just as effectively.
ÒI
wish it could be Christmas everydayÓ go the words of the song. It could be Ð if only we would learn
from the stable Ð and quietly offer our lives in the service of others Ð
however much we may disagree with them