Caravaggio – Adoration of the Shepherds.
It’s getting closer to Christmas. This year, The fourth Sunday in Advent is rather overshadowed, falling as it does on Christmas Eve – the day when, for so many, and for so many years, the season of Christmas began. But its themes are precious, and the heart of the feast. It’s worth making a little space amongst the cooking and present wrapping and welcoming and general getting ready to hold the truth of Love coming among us at Christmas.
As it’s hard to make that little bit of space, here are the words to a carol that can perhaps sound in your mind whatever you’re doing in the moment…… to transform the activity into something holy and generative. A contemplation for busy hands.
Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine,
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and Angels gave the sign.
Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine,
Worship we our Jesus,
But wherewith for sacred sign?
Love shall be our token,
Love shall be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign
Christina Rosetti 1840-1894
One of the beautiful lyrics included in my Prayers and Verses.
There is a mystery we can enter into as we draw close to the year’s midnight, in this darkness where something hopeful and joyous is emerging. And the sign of it is love. Simply love: the token and the gift and the sign. As we approach Christmas, we can reaffirm that gift of love. We can consider what it might mean this week, for us, to live from a place and awareness of love. If Love came down at Christmas, what would that look like for me, at this time? Can we accept the gift and sign of this love? Can we receive it and allow it to change us, so we too are part of the new growth of this silent, midwinter spring?
One of the readings for today, from Isaiah 7, includes the name for the one to be born….. Immanuel, translated as God with us.
It’s a profound promise. That God is with us. Even when we are unsure what we mean by God, even when we lose sight of what might seem clear in clear daylight, maybe we can come to know that we are held and accompanied in love. This, to me, is increasingly the heart and core and hope I hold onto. That God is indeed with us. And it is good to become alive to this in the bleak midwinter – as Christina Rosetti also wrote.
This autumn, we went to a beautiful celebration of Julian of Norwich’s wisdom and words by contemporary artists. It’s her 650th anniversary. The exhibition was held in three churches in the city. The title was ‘Love is the meaning’, taken from the revelation that Jesus’s meaning is indeed love. It is so restoring and freeing to know that love is the heart of the good news of Christmas.
With apologies for the poor photo quality! They are very fine works.
‘And in this he showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazel nut, lying in the palm of my hand, as it seemed. And it was as round as any ball. I looked upon it with the eye of my understanding, and thought, ‘What may this be?’ And it was answered generally thus, ‘It is all that is made.’ I marveled how it might last, for I thought it might suddenly have fallen to nothing for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God.
In this little thing I saw three properties. The first is that God made it. The second that God loves it. And the third, that God keeps it.’
Julian of Norwich
Julian’s insight reminds us of the inextinguishable love of Jesus born among us, and dying among us too. A deep hope springs from that love for us, and for all that has been made. It gives us a way to walk in the world, secure enough to be bold in the love we give, for we have received. It doesn’t overlook the pain of the world, but provides a profound companionship and meaning in the midst of it.
The gospels are full of hardship and difficulty, and love, companionship and healing. I am increasingly valuing the questions and uncertainties in the story – where things that seem bad, are turned to the good, and that which seems good, turns out to be less so. We can see instead how these things might work towards love, friendship, wholeness. It is easy to lose sight of how hard it must have been to be birthing in such hard conditions, but that very difficulty gives us hope in our own upturned places.
You might like to scroll up to the Caravaggio picture above – intensely beautiful even in its portrayal of an exhausted Mary and ill clad shepherds. It’s worth following the eyes in this picture, to notice where everyone is looking, and what those looks communicate. There is something in the space between – the space between mother and child, held in the gaze of the shepherds – the love, the deep bond, which means so much. The artists were right to value it. There is a fine net of love and wonder being spun here, despite the destitution of the setting. This is deep looking indeed.
Some years ago I attempted a paraphrase of the beginning of John’s gospel. A friend read it last Sunday at a contemplative carol service, where it opened the dark evening. I thought I’d share it with you today.
Beginning
It started with the Word, who was there before the dawn of time –
before the earth, the waters, the stars – there with God, was God.
For in the beginning, there was simply nothing else.
But then, the Word began to work. When the Word spoke,
the universe spun into song, and all things came into being.
Without the Word there was only empty blankness.
For the Word, the universe burst into life like a desert after rain.
This was the Word’s work – unleashing life and light –
glorious and radiant, warming our lives like the sun in spring.
This is the light which shines through our darkness – cold, smothering darkness
where nothing can grow. And the darkness draws back at its touch,
not understanding a light that cannot be put out.
Then, the Word, source of life and light, came into the world he made,
but the world hid its face in its hands. It did not recognise him.
He reached out to his people, and they turned away.
Yet to all who welcome him, believed in him, he held out his hands
to give them such a gift – to know that they are a child of God,
Born of God.
So the Word, the One who was there from the beginning
became flesh and blood and chose to make a home
with us in this fragile, changing world.
He came with open hands to bless, brimming over
with words of truth. He has unlocked Heaven’s storerooms
and poured down gift after gift for us.
We saw his glory with our own eyes – we saw him shining
with life and light, we saw the very One who came to us
from the Father.
For no one has ever seen God. But this Jesus,
the One and Only, who was there at the beginning,
has made God known.
The blossom buds are already there, tiny flowers formed, asleep and waiting for the days to begin lengthening just a little. They burst early, in February often. It’s all there, waiting, at this darkest time of year. How wonderful to celebrate light and birth now, when hope may be faltering. Maybe, we can treasure this lesson of darkness. We may be able to catch a glimpse of the love that came down at Christmas, and the love that received him.
Thank you for joining me in these readings and ponderings.
May you have a blessed, peaceful and loving time as we draw close to Christmas.
Many blessings to you and those you love.
Andrea Skevington 