Latest Reflections
CHRISTMAS IS COMING
Maggie Guillebaud, Cathedral Curate (Monday 1st December 2008)
The familiar words of the old carol begin to take us into the season of Advent, with all its expectations, and its relentless round of preparations, shopping, stocking-filling, and parties. The geese are indeed getting fat, and we're getting exhausted.
Deep down I believe there are many of us who wish that this were not so. And this year in particular, with the worsening financial crisis beginning to push its way into more and more homes as an unbidden and unwanted guest, we have a chance to stand back and re-evaluate what Christmas is really about.
For Christians, Christmas is about the Incarnation: God chose to send his only Son to earth, to live an earthly life among us. And in order to do so he had to be born as a human being. The Gospel tells us that this happened in Bethlehem. The sentimental accretions which have built up over the years round this simple story cannot obscure this stark fact: God became human.
That is why Advent becomes a period of such intense anticipation at the Cathedral. We wait to celebrate, yet again, this miraculous fact. Each Advent Sunday is marked by the lighting of another candle in our Advent wreath. On the first Sunday of Advent we welcome a new group of children into our fellowship as, following a period of preparation, they participate with us in their first Eucharist. Numerous carol services are held here from organisations right across our community. Our moving Darkness into Light services underscore our sense of moving from the old order into the new. The building is alive and humming with excitement right up until Christmas Eve, with our popular family service and then our glorious and festive Christmas Day services, when finally our period of waiting is over and we celebrate again God's miraculous gift to us.
We welcome all who come to the Cathedral to celebrate with us this simple but astonishing gift. Jesus' birth can be celebrated without lavishness or unnecessary hassle or great expense. It is its very simplicity which speaks clearly to us over the intervening 2000 years, 750 of which have been marked in this place of prayer.
God became man. That, truly, is the greatest gift of all.
NOVEMBER COMMEMORATION
Charles Mitchell-Innes, Vicar of the Close (Saturday 1st November 2008)
“Only remember me”, wrote Christina Rossetti.
November is for remembering. First it is the Saints, those dazzling men and women of God, whose single-minded dedication and devotion we aspire to emulate, even though their life-style, and sometimes their characters, may be distinctly uncomfortable. Next come All Souls, “that great multitude which no man can number, whose hope was in the Word made flesh, and with whom in this Lord Jesus we for evermore are one.” That blurring of the dividing line between this world and the next is a particularly welcome assurance as we remember those who have been – and remain – close to our hearts.
But the most visible and public feature of our November commemorations is the Remembrance of those died in war, to whom we pay a corporate, national tribute in the middle of the month, as we hold them before God in our prayers. It is a happy coincidence that we celebrate at the same time the feast of St Martin, the Roman soldier whose generous yet careful act of giving a beggar half his cloak – thus sharing it – reminds us of the altruism, of military service at its best. We have had many examples of such altruism, indeed heroism coming from Afghanistan in recent months.
If all this sounds somewhat gloomy, akin to the November weather, it is worth reminding ourselves of the affirmative nature of the Christian message, which looks hopefully forward to the years ahead and to eternity. Vera Brittain, looking back to her friends who were killed in the First World War, asks them (rhetorically), “Would you have me only remember you, only dwell in those days that we shared so long ago – or would you wish my life to go on? In spite of the war, which destroyed so much hope, so much beauty, so much promise, life is still here to be lived.”
As Quintin Hogg puts it in his poem ‘Remembrance Day’, The evening star / By her own loveliness assurance gives/ That beauty in a darkened world still lives.”