Christmas Day Family Service 2007

To give any thought at all to the Christmas story, and I suspect that very many people do think about it in one way or another, is to be aware of the contrasts:
families that can come together and celebrate, and those that can't;
those who have warm homes to go to, and those who have no home at all;
those who sit down to Christmas dinner, and those who don't or can't; and so on.
These are not specifically religious thoughts, though faith informs the way we think them. It's just that we are aware of the contrasts.

Less than a mile from where we are now a man in his forties is serving a medium term sentence in Norwich Prison. He is a Rule 45 prisoner which means that he is kept apart from other prisoners. This could be because he is vulnerable to attack from other prisoners, or that he is coping so badly with the prison regime that he must be treated differently for the time-being. He's one of the minority of the prison population who have no outside support: no family and no friends, and certainly no one to visit him; with one exception. Regular visits from a prison volunteer make a big difference to him. This Christmas, he has received just one Christmas card and it came from his friend.

I find myself trying to think about that card in the way that he does. He looks at the picture on the front, almost certainly a scene from the nativity story. Despite Mary being heavy with child, Joseph had to travel from Nazareth to report to the city of Bethlehem, the city of David, by virtue of his family origins. The prisoner might realise how perilous their journey was, and how vulnerable Mary and Joseph and the unborn child were. They were far from home and friends, almost of refugee status, in a country under colonial occupation. And when they arrived at Bethlehem there was nowhere to stay, and the birth was immanent. Isolation and vulnerability: perhaps the prisoner made the connection with his own situation.

Inside his card, he would read a printed greeting, that signature of a commercial Christmas card which registers its purpose, something like 'Wishing you peace and joy at Christmas', 'Seasons Greetings' or 'Merry Christmas', 'Christmas Blessings to you and yours': aneutral statement that doesn't recognise the circumstances of the recipient.
What matters much more is the name that is handwritten underneath: the name of his friend who cares enough about him to visit regularly, who remembers him when everyone else was celebrating a family Christmas.

The child-like simplicity of the Christmas story points us to God. The truths of the Christmas story have a steadying influence on us, prompting thoughts on the quality of family life, our circle of friends and work colleagues, and the integrity of the local, regional, national and global family.
Both the nativity narrative and the underlying truth of the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ touch on the raw realities of human isolation and marginalisation, and they put us in mind of those who fall off the edge of normal human routine.

There's been a discussion in the national press recently about whether the Christmas tradition is under threat. Is our national obsession with political correctness moving towards a ban on Christmas? I don't believe it is. I don't believe that anyone seriously wants to prevent families enjoying their Christmas celebrations. Not even political correctness would seek to stop Christians from celebrating the Feast of the Incarnation.

But out of the secularising agenda of the times there is the suggestion that the Christian celebration of Christmas is better enjoyed without any reference to religious belief. The outward trappings of the Church's celebration, it is said, are no more than a pleasant and convivial form of mid-winter diversion from the routine. On this basis, Carol Services and School Nativity plays are nice, seasonal occasions based on a make-believe story: enjoy the familiar tunes and smile at the meaninglessness of the words because they provide a nostalgic glow.

This is the Christmas version of a current view of Heritage. Heritage is an OK word. In this country, our historical buildings, customs and traditions are used as a driver to the economy. But there are signs that the word Heritage is also being used to dilute the spiritual domain of what it means to be human. It's claimed by some that churches and great cathedrals were built in the past because in those days people believed in God, and that what they were doing was an outward extension of their faith in God.
'Not so now', they say. In our modern enlightened age, the argument goes, we no longer need God and religion to inform our world-view; we've grown out of it. And so Heritage with its nod to the past is all that is left to remind us of how people used to rely on God.

Heritage is a key element here in the local economy of Norwich and Norfolk. I get sent glossy brochures which encourage businesses to invest here or tourists to come and holiday in Norfolk. Many of these brochures will include a lovely photograph of the Cathedral. Visitors are directed to the old churches and castles and houses. They add to the quality of life because they are old and beautiful and worth looking at. And that is what Heritage with regard to churches is in danger of becoming - interesting buildings which remind us of the past.

The Gospel message of Christmas which comes through the narrative is that it is a message for the moment. The Birth of Christ, the Feast of the Incarnation, tells us that God is with us and that nothing can come between us and the love that God has for us in Christ. The message in the prisoner's card tell us that we are not forgotten or abandoned. The new-born Saviour of the World shines as a light that guides us through a darkened world. The song of the angels around us is the song of God's glory revealed to our world in and through the long-awaited Messiah. We feel the warmth of God's love, just as a baby feels the heart beat of its mother.

This message supports our belief in the wisdom and the beauty and the power of God's love to intervene in every human life, and that as we engage with this belief so we are changed. Imperceptibly, the message becomes a life-style, as we become attuned to the very same issues that are raised in the nativity story itself, namely of how to live together.

So what we are doing here this morning? As we gather for the Christmas liturgy, do we suspend rational thought as the secularists want?
Do we, like them, harden our hearts to the prayers and the desires expressed in worship this Christmas morning?
Do we sing the familiar carols but cross our fingers as if to say that it means nothing at all?
Are people of Christian faith simply a collection of empty-headed do-gooders who keep these fine old buildings standing?

Or do we look at the long tradition of service offered specifically in the Name of Christ in this city and further afield?
Do we recall how ordinary people whose life-style has been affected by the message of Christmas have worked hard over the years to provide support and comfort to people not just at Christmas-time but all the year round?
Do we look at St Martin's Housing providing real and sustained support to homeless people;
to the Magdalene project providing sensible, compassionate and life-changing care for street women;
to the Mancroft Advice Project offering confidential advice and support to young people?
Do we take account of the number of volunteer hours given from within church congregations in this city?
Do we, in short, acknowledge in word and sacrament that God is with us, as he has been with us since that first Christmas, and that we are called, individually and collectively to be his people, bearers of his message, ambassadors of his love?

With so many fine historic churches in Norfolk, not least this Cathedral, we have the opportunity to turn this Christian heritage into a force for the common good. We build on the faith and the tenacity of the past and make our historic churches platforms for faith and tenacity in the present age.
Within these walls today we celebrate what they celebrated centuries before: we rejoice in what it means to live and work as baptised people of God; we celebrate our freedom to worship; and to serve; and to learn.

But it is the contrasts that stimulate and challenge our thinking and our praying; because contrasts have been a feature of the Jesus story from the outset. To have contact with Jesus as a shepherd or a wise man, or later as someone who is blind or deaf or sick or even dead, is to experience transformation. To those of us who are about to go home to a family Christmas Dinner, reading the Nativity story through the eyes of a Rule 45 prisoner affords the possibility of fresh insight into the mysteries of God's loving purpose.

That is the simple, familiar but powerful message of Christ's birth. May that message translate into life-style; into a life-style that points up the contrasts in this life and gives us a vision of eternity.

Graham Smith

More sermons, modern and historical, available in Norwich Cathedral Library

Back to Sermons homepage