Katie Richardson – Sermon 30.12.12

O nata lux, de lumine ……… O light, born of light

Jesu redemptor saeculi ….. Jesus, redeemer of the world,

Deign in mercy to accept the offering of praise and prayers we make.

And may the words on my lips, and the movement of all our hearts,

Be always acceptable in your sight.

Amen

Luke 2:15-21

But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

A few days before Christmas, The Times carried a front-page photo of our Queen. It was an arresting, almost startling image, even after all the Diamond Jubilee coverage this year. Alarmingly, Michael Jackson sprang to mind, quickly followed by Elton John. Our monarch was looking pretty cool – in a large pair of 3D glasses – black-lensed, black-framed, glossy - and diamond-encrusted, of course!

She had been recording her Christmas speech, to be shown in 3D for the first time this year, and was viewing the playback. Without the glasses, all can seem rather fuzzy and out of focus; but with them on the pictures have new depth, and apparently greater reality. Perhaps you saw the broadcast in this new dimension? Or perhaps you will take the kids or grandchildren, or even go yourself to see The Hobbit, a newly-released film of Tolkien’s book, available in both conventional and 3D format.

Personally, I’m not a fan of 3D viewing – at least when it comes to television and cinema. But Christmas, or indeed anything to do with God and humanity, is another matter. That there should be depth to Christmas seems to me ever more important - and pressing.

This is not to promote the wearing of Nativity costumes, instead of pirate and superman outfits, as in one local supermarket this year. Rather, it is to see depth as response; as effort on our part to understand, as best we can, whatever our beliefs, what this season means to us.

Whilst we may have a good idea of what Christmas means to Christianity at large, what it could mean for the world as a whole, I wonder how much personal response there is in these views. We may perhaps be less certain about what Christmas means to us as individuals. As it comes round year after year, we may too easily become content with something that is rather more 2D than 3D.

The effort to understand what is happening at Christmas is exemplified supremely in Mary, I suggest. In our gospel this evening, it seems to me that the text suddenly jumps, half way through, from 2 to 3 dimensions - in Mary’s response. Up to now we have been enjoying the traditional elements of the story, much as in looking at a two-dimensional Christmas card - (angels bringing good news, the heavenly host singing Gloria, shepherds on the hillside, the child in the manger at Bethlehem) – everything the Gentile Luke wants to say to the sceptical Jews of his time, to his fellow Christians and Gentiles, and to us to help us see that Jesus of Nazareth is indeed the longed-for Messiah. But, momentous as is the message behind all this, for me it is only when we read that Mary ‘treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart’ that the passage truly comes to life.

Luke is writing a good 50 years after the death and resurrection of Jesus. He is secure in his certainty that, in Jesus, humanity somehow saw God face to face upon this earth. The historical Mary, on the other hand, does not, at this stage, have the benefit of hindsight – nor can she see the future. The Lucan Mary we meet has some prior knowledge of her child’s great destiny, thanks to the angel Gabriel, but as yet no foresight of the pain to come. However, she is already perplexed as to how all that is coming to pass can be. Now, in this reading, she is living through the first Christmas, trying to piece it all together. She stores it up in her heart, as any loving mother would, and ponders ……

What could be more human? What could be a more genuine response to God’s coming at Christmas? To ponder is not suddenly to see the light, to be simply amazed like the shepherds, utterly convinced by all the glory. To ponder requires effort; mental and emotional effort. It is not to have great certainty; but neither is it to doubt. It is to allow the questions to surface, and not to meaninglessly affirm. Above all, surely, it is to respond; to receive and engage with all that is happening, to work with a confusing mixture of signals, turning them over in one’s mind, making sense of them as best one can. Here we glimpse the thoughtful Mary, a real woman, who in due course will see her motherhood through to the end, whatever that takes. This, it seems to me, is no two-dimensional Christmas card, but rather life - in 3D - much as we know it, with its good bits and bad bits, its clarity and obscurity, its demands, and uncertainties.

Of course, my reaction to the story will not be the same as yours. Mary’s reaction was not the same as that of Simeon. Further on in Luke we read that the Holy Spirit had revealed to him that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Holding the baby Jesus in his arms, at his presentation in the Temple, Simeon poured out the wonderful words we now know as the Nunc Dimittis : ‘Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.’ What glorious certainty! But how much more must Mary have pondered when he went on to tell her that a sword would pierce her heart! This was not exactly in line with what the angel Gabriel had foretold.

Everyone’s reaction to Christmas will be different, will be individual. That is a reflection of our humanity. But without any reaction, or attempt even to discover what our reaction is, it seems to me there will be no depth in Christmas for us. So gather up your Christmas, whatever it has meant to you this year, the good bits and the not-so-good, and take time to ponder those things in your heart. What has moved you? What has spoken to you? What has left you cold - and why? There is bound to be something. And if by any chance there has been nothing so far, well there is still time. Epiphany, the season of revelation, of God showing himself to us, is with us for a few more weeks yet.

If then there is still nothing, perhaps that in itself is something to ponder. Strange as it may seem, as daring as it may seem to say so, incarnation cannot happen without us, without our involvement. At Christmas the accent seems to be all on God, on His coming down to us in great humility. But unless we, also in great humility, allow him to be born - ‘in us’ as the carol says - then there is nothing God can do to redeem us - although, thank goodness, He will never stop trying.

And, if all else fails, why not write to the Queen? If you ask her nicely, she just might lend you those 3D glasses.

KRR-Dec 30 2012/Pwww