The Rector Writes

Dear Friends,

Its an old cliché but it seems to be certainly true that Christmas starts earlier every year, with shops getting decorated at the end of August. Of course its also a cliché that the clergy and others complain about this!

However, by rushing into Christmas we do miss the important themes of Advent: watching, waiting, being awake and alert, getting ourselves ready for the message of the coming of Jesus at Christmas, and his return at the end of time.

Archbishop Rowan Williams in his recent Christmas message talks about being with a teacher of a child with severe autism. The child was exhibiting quite disturbing behaviour: apparently aimlessly swinging a piece of string and banging a table hard. The teacher didn’t try to distract the child or prevent the behaviour: instead she copied it. And after a couple of days the boy had begun to respond to smiles and touch. Why? Autism arises when the brain senses too much material coming in, too much information. There is a feeling of panic; the mind has to regain control. And the best way of doing this is to close up on yourself and repeat actions that are familiar; do nothing new, and don't acknowledge anything coming from outside. But when the therapist gently echoes the actions and rhythms, the anxious and wounded mind of the autistic person sees that there is after all a link with the outside world that isn't threatening. Here is someone doing what I do; the world isn't just an unfamiliar place of terror and uncertainty. And when I do this, I can draw out an answer, an echo; I'm not powerless. And so relationship begins.

There is, says the Archbishop, powerful image of what it is we remember at Christmas:
we are all afraid of God and the world and our real selves in some degree. We can't cope with the light. As John's gospel says, those who don't want to respond to God fear and run away from the light. But God acts to heal us, to bring us out of our isolation - which is as bizarre and self-destructive as that young man beating his head against the wall. And he does this in a way that is just like the therapist in the video. He does what we do; he is born, he grows up, he lives for many years a life that is ordinary and prosaic like ours - he works, he eats, he sleeps. Here is ultimate love, complete holiness, made real in a back street in a small town. And when he begins to do new and shocking things, to proclaim the Kingdom, to heal, to forgive, to die and rise again - well, we shouldn't panic and run away because we have learned that we can trust him. We know he speaks our language, he has responded to our actions and our words, he has echoed to us what we are like.

That's what begins at Christmas. Not a doctor coming in with a needle or a surgeon with a knife, but a baby who has to learn how to be human by watching; only this baby is the eternal Word of God, who is watching and learning so that when he speaks God's transforming word we will be able to hear it in our own human language. He is God so that he has the freedom to heal, to be our 'therapist'. He is human so that he speaks in terms we can understand, in the suffering and delight of a humanity that he shares completely with us. And now we must let him touch us and tell us that there is a world outside our minds - our pride and fear and guilt. It is called the Kingdom of God.

This Christmas time, let us take the time to reflect on that eternal truth behind the glitter. Come and join us for our study groups or our services. A happy Christmas to you all.

Andrew

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