Christ is born

The Christ candle took three attempts to light tonight but then it burned brightly as a symbol of Christ born again amidst all the darkness of today's world.
May the hope, love, joy and peace of Christmas be yours.

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Come to the Manger

Early folk, late folk

punctual and stragglers

take the weight off your feet

and park yourself

just for a while.

It's too late now

if there's anything not done.

Whether you're calm

or whether your heads still buzzing

breathe deeply

of the love

that we celebrate here this night.

Get yourself

a whiff of the stable

Pin back your ears

for the sound of Heavenly Choirs

And lend your voice

tuneful or not 

to the Heavenly host

revving up

for the Party

And, if you're not in a party mood

that's OK too

because the stable

was a great leveler

Welcoming the great and the lowly

the jubilant and the downtrodden

making room for all

Everyone was - and is welcome

at the manger.

Telling the greatest story

Angels that rocked and rolled
Shepherds that danced with their sheep
Kings that seemed totally bemused
A sleep deprived innkeeper
A beautiful young mother
And a bored father
Even the adults were involved
Dusting and dancing
Trimming the tree
Moving scenery
For just like the real thing
There was a part for everyone to play
in telling the story of The Nativity
The greatest story ever told
Often we entrust the telling to infants
And that works
But we too who are older
and supposedly wiser
have a lead role
in telling the good news.
A vital role.
We are all invited,
more than that, required,
with or without
the tea towels and the robes
and crowns and wings
to live out our Advent themes
of hope and peace
and joy and love
To reveal the baby God
born in obscurity
raised in oppression
To pierce the darkness of today's world
with the dazzling light
of God's love.

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Birthing God

What if it were today?
What if God had chosen today's world to reveal love?
Where might God find a divided land crying out for a rescuer?
Where might God find people oppressed
by a government charged with protecting them?
What out of the way place might God choose?
Would the mother of God be an unmarried teenager?
Or one of the homeless teenagers who sleeps in the railway arches?
To whom would the angels announce the good news?
To the night shift workers leaving their factories?
Or the care workers just beginning their early shift?
And those wise visitors who followed the star.
Would they use sat nav, following it slavishly
until they realised they were lost?
And then announce a check in on Facebook
informing the world of their whereabouts
and putting the child at risk.
Who would feel threatened by the arrival of the Son of God,
fearful that their power would be diminished?
And who would warn the Holy Family
to escape the evil intent?
And, as for the slaughter of the Innocents,
we can imagine that only too well
In Sudan, the Congo, Connecticut,
Israel, Palestine, Afghanistan.
The darkness of today's world
needs the light of love and hope
and joy and peace
just as much as did the world
of Mary and Joseph and Herod
and the Roman Empire.
God needs to be born today
in so many places.
We are the midwives of the birth
of good news that brings
Love, hope, joy and peace
to the world today,
birthing God wherever we are.

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Glimpses

Bagpacking at the local grocery store
afforded a curious glimpse
into people's readiness
for Christmas.
Some shopping in joyful anticipation
of family visits
or time spent relaxing
Others weary and worn down
wishing it were all over already.
Was it any different that first Christmas?
When folk were summoned to be registered.
For everyone who was joyfully anticipating family visits
there were others who were weary with the journey.
For each one ready to be surprised
there were others whose hope has long since departed.
For everyone eager to please and do as decreed
there were others resenting the imposition
and the disturbance to normal life.
And then the unimaginable happened.
God was born.
To an unknown mother.
In an unknown location.
In an out of the way place.
And so love, hope, joy and peace
infiltrated a weary world.
What are the chances of that happening again today?-

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Immaculate

A Wee Dose of Reality
Immaculate conception wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Inside, I could hold my head up high,
knowing I had done no wrong,
but you try telling that to the old biddies down in the market,
looking for a story to gossip,
a victim to scandalise.
It wasn’t just the dried up old widows
seething with bitterness
at their station in life,
but even the younger ones
I used to run around with.
I’d catch them, too,
blethering on the corner,
going real quiet when I appeared—
a conversation stopper, that’s me,
if ever there was one.
And who could blame them?
They saw me change from the shy bright teenager I was,
full of life,
to the sallow-skinned miserable wench,
throwing up at everyday sights and smells.
If that angel hadn’t warned me,
they would have known before I did—
the signs were all there.
They’d seen them all before:
the squeamishness, the pallor.
No blooming for me,
I turned into a ghost of myself,
folk could see right through me
and they were quick to draw their own conclusions.
They’d judged and condemned me
before I even got up to speed
and cottoned on
that what the angel said had come true,
I was pregnant.
Those serene pictures you see
of me looking calm and contented, well,
nothing could be further from the truth!
Sure I wanted to serve God
but God had no idea what it was like
to be an unmarried pregnant teenager.
It felt like I was two different people:
a willing servant of God, on the one hand,
and a sick, scared miserable pregnant teenager on the other.
What did God know
about pregnancy sickness,
or about stretch marks,
or about ankles that swell
and spill over your shoes,
or about developing breasts as big and hard as water melons
(I was never known for largesse in that department)?
Lets not forget the constant weariness,
and, as if all that wasn’t bad enough,
there was the shunning on top.
I might be carrying God’s child
but you try telling that to folk
with laws that mattered above all else,
laws that should have got me stoned.
Even the best saint
would have had a job
smiling through all that,
far less a naive teenager.
Immaculate conception?
Immaculate for whom?
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Stille Nacht

The ice rink is a place of beautiful stillness
In between games
When everyone has gone
to enjoy something warming
the peace is tangible
No roars of HURRY!
No clatter of stones
hurtling up the ice
Just a hushed waiting
Like the church in between services
When everyone has left
and the tidying has been done
when there is silence
and order.
Quiet, still,peaceful.
But not purposeful.
Both places are built
to embrace and to welcome
to ring with sound
and activity
The stillness is nice - for a while
but we yearn for the hustle and bustle
and even the ritual
that belongs to the space.

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