LogoNNN
The Norfolk and Norwich Christian community website

Opinion Column


christmas nativity 750pb
Merry Christmas – Or still stuck in Lent?

Andy Bryant reminds us that the first Christmas was also a time of great hardship.

Christmas trees are glinting everywhere, out and about there is the soundtrack of Christmas songs and at church the preparations for the Christmas services are all in place.  But however hard I try I am still stuck in the middle of Lent.
 
Partly that is because the last time Church felt anything like normal, just before we were locked out of our church buildings, we were in the middle of Lent.  And despite all the best attempts of online offerings and the introduction of Covid safe in-person worship, I never really completed the Lenten journey through Holy Week, Good Friday and on to Easter Day.
 
Partly it is because all around me feels like the season of Lent; an on-going fast from all that is familiar, comforting and encouraging.  The ongoing pandemic makes it feel like a season of penance and as the numbers dying from Covid continues to grow, the issue of our mortality is ever present.
 
But before you try and rescue me from what you assume is a dark place, let me also say that the sense of being in Lent has also brought me closer to the true meaning of Christmas.  At Christmas I am often left feeling that we only ever Christmas Lite.  The themes of this time of year are deeper, and more profound, than the baubles, flashing lights and cosy crib scenes represent.
 
In saying yes to God, Mary is taking the greatest of risks. Then, and now in many parts of the world, death in pregnancy and in labour were all too well-known.  To then be forced to undertake such a long journey in late pregnancy, sleeping by the roadside on the way, only adds to the risk.  Living in a land under occupation and amidst the mass migration of thousands of people only added to the level of threat – exploitation and trafficking are not modern phenomena.
 
Bethlehem is not full as if for some great festive celebration but rather full of others who have also been forced from their homes, suspicious and resentful.  Amidst the ensuing chaos Mary and Joseph were not the only couple searching and failing to find accommodation - and more than likely Mary not the only woman heavily pregnant, hoping for a place of safety.  It would have been no surprise if another mother and/or child died in labour that night.
 
Neo-natal death rates were high; most mothers would have known the death of a baby.  And this small vulnerable new-born has only a manger as its first bed.  The risk of complications, infection and disease were high – there is nothing sanitary about a feeding trough.  The crowded city would have meant unsanitary conditions for many and dysentery, and the like, would have been lurking around every corner.
 
There was nothing easy or comforting about that first Christmas and that is before mention of the massacre of all male babies under two years and the migrant journey to Egypt.  Excited shepherds and rumours of angels were but brief glimpses of hope amidst a hard and unsafe time.
 
However much our Christmas plans are disrupted by Covid, they are but an inconvenience compared to that first Christmas – and to what too many in this world still face as their daily reality.
 
It is in such a place, at this very particular moment of Roman occupation, and in the most challenging of circumstances, that God decides to act.  The risk is there not just at the end of Jesus’ life, but from the very beginning; divinity revealed in vulnerability, not safety, security, or power.
 
Still trapped in Lent, this Christmas it is tears not Alleluias that mark the celebrations, dirty straw, not tinsel, the real decorations, and then and now the ever-present risk of infection. 
 
Do not rush to wipe away these tears, for these are the tears of deep and profound wonder.  Even as I often feel before the cross, gazing at this tiny, vulnerable, exposed baby, and his exhausted mother, I face the haunting question that changes everything: did God really do all this for me?

The above image is courtesy of pixabay.com
 



Andrew BryantCFThe Revd Andrew Bryant is the Canon for Mission and Pastoral Care at Norwich Cathedral. He was previously Team Rector of Portishead, Bristol, in the Diocese of Bath and Wells, and has served in parishes in the Guildford and Lichfield Dioceses, as well as working for twelve years with Kaleidoscope Theatre, a charity promoting integration through theatre for young adults with Down’s Syndrome.
 
You can read Andrew's latest blog entry
here and can follow him via his Twitter account @AndyBry3.



The views carried here are those of the author, not of Network Norwich and Norfolk, and are intended to stimulate constructive debate between website users. 

We welcome your thoughts and comments, posted below, upon the ideas expressed here. 

Click here to read our forum and comment posting guidelines

Feedback:
(Guest) 25/12/2020 12:21
Thank you.

This is the first personal observation that resonates with the sense of dissonance I have been struggling with for months.

Tears rather than Alleluias seems to me an encapsulation of the kind of leadership called for right now - helping the world come to terms with reality rather than covering over the pain with a veneer of 'business as usual as we can make it'.





5723 views
To submit a story or to publicise an event please email: web@networknorwich.co.uk