“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth peace, peace to people of goodwill.”
One hundred years ago, for the first time in five brutal years, Cardiff woke up to a Christmas at peace.
For us today, herald angels singing and refrains of “Gloria in excelsis!” are part of the magic and music that give us that “Christmas feeling”. It’s easy to ignore the little line, “peace to people of goodwill”, as one of the familiar phrases we expect to hear in this season.
But imagine those who gathered to celebrate Christmas in 1918, just weeks after the armistice which ended the First World War. Around every dinner table, families would have remembered absent members, and friends, who had laid down their lives. Their great relief that much of the world was at peace would have been mixed with deep questions – “was it worth the cost?” And around many tables, those who faced mortal peril, both those who fought and those whose homelands were invaded, would have been most profoundly aware that they were no longer at war. Peace had returned. This Christmas in Indonesia, many families will have similar mixed emotions as they think of survivors and victims of last week’s tsunami. And yet the rhythm of the year echoes what happened on that unique day when angels spoke into human history:
“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth peace, peace to people of goodwill.”
But what did the angels mean in their song? That God was pleased with the human race in its entirety, and therefore sent us Jesus? Or did they mean that God was sending a gift of peace to be received by those of us who are people of goodwill, while the rest of the world faces God’s anger?
The Bible contains beautiful words. Jesus himself said that “God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” And that’s the key. When we ask whether God is punishing us or protecting us, we should look not only at this life we live on earth, but eternal life – the life the angels are already living. God sent Baby Jesus so, as a man dying on the Cross, he would open the door to heaven for anyone willing to follow him through it. Jesus didn’t encourage us to think of disasters, natural or man-made, as signs of God’s punishment; rather, he spoke of God’s anger coming on souls in the afterlife who had harmed children, ignored people in need, or refused to forgive their enemies.
So I say again: “Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth peace, peace to people of goodwill.”
In these Christmas words, we hear ourselves being challenged. Are we truly people of good will?
God’s rewards and wrath are reserved for us in heaven; here on Earth, God has left the responsibility for war and peace with us. He sent Christ, the Prince of Peace, to encourage us to live at peace with one another, and to pour his gift of peace into the heart of anyone who asks. And we can ask! We can pray for God to give us the good will to make peace with all people.
Christmas is a time of year which offers us special opportunities. Family members who might not be together for the rest of the year will be gathered together around one table. Perhaps this means that you will be forced to spend time with a relative or friend you don’t get on with – perhaps even someone who has broken a promise to you, publicly embarrassed you, or harmed you in some other way. This may feel like a threat, but it’s actually an opportunity. As human beings, our natural reaction is to ask “Who started it?” and seek an apology. But that’s not God’s way. No, the question God asks is “Who is willing to end it?” The will to make peace is a good will.
“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth peace, peace to people of goodwill.”
Are you looking in the manger for a God who stops earthquakes, tsunamis, and man’s inhumanity to man? You will seek in vain.
But are you looking for a God who is as vulnerable as a baby in a manger, who offers us the strength to be meek? You are looking in the right place.
The Prince of Peace came not to spare us from disasters, but to lead us through them on the royal road of forgiveness and generosity.
If you are looking for peace in your life, come to the silence of this Church; come and kneel before this crib. Ask God to fill your heart with the power to will what is good for others. It is through the goodwill in your heart that Cardiff can wake up to a Christmas at peace.
I have in my prayer-book a little card from the peacemaking organisation called Pax Christi, and I’d like to leave you with the prayer which is written on it – it’s by the late leader of the Taizé community in France, Brother Roger. It says this:
O Risen Christ,
You breathe your Holy Spirit on us
and you tell us: ‘Peace be yours’.
Opening ourselves to your peace –
letting it penetrate the harsh and
rocky ground of our hearts –
means preparing ourselves to be
bearers of reconciliation
wherever you may place us.
But you know that at times
we are at a loss.
So come and lead us
to wait in silence,
to let a ray of hope shine forth
in our world.
“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth peace, peace to people of goodwill.”
And may the blessing of the Prince of Peace fill your hearts with joy. A Blessed Christmas to you all.
The phrasing of “on earth peace, peace to people of goodwill” is from Christopher Walker’s New Celtic Liturgy, which is the Mass setting being used at my Christmas Masses.
Thursday Homily to full-time Members of Sion Community at the December Retreat (St Lucy’s Day)
“The Kingdom of Heaven has been subjected to violence, and the violent are taking it by storm.”
It’s not obvious what this passage means, so I went to look it up in a Bible commentary. You know you’re in trouble when the only thing the Commentary says is ‘lots of scholars have discussed this verse’!
But I like a challenge, so let’s explore it.
One way of interpreting this ‘violence’ is that the followers of John the Baptist and Jesus were facing physical opposition from the Pharisees, or the Sadducees, or the Romans. In the previous verses in Matthew, Jesus sent the Twelve Apostles on a mission to proclaim the Kingdom, warning that they will be put on trial and forced to make a public declaration of whether they believe in this controversial Christ. Certainly there’s a chance of violence against disciples; we celebrate today one Christian woman whose name was handed down to us for her steadfastness when persecuted because of her commitment to follow Christ as a believer and as a virgin. But we believe that the saints ultimately triumph precisely by their martyrdom. So does it make sense to say that those expressing violence against God’s witnesses can take the Kingdom of the sovereign God by storm? No so much.
The Greek words of this passage could also be translated: “The Kingdom of heaven is being invaded; energetic souls are forcing their way in!”
Jesus is speaking about the time from the start of John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness – a season when first John, and then Jesus with his disciples, have been proclaiming ‘Turn away from sin! God’s Kingdom is close to you!”
In Luke’s Gospel, we find an almost identical passage about John the Baptist. There’s only one difference: where Matthew puts this odd verse about violence, Luke comments that sinners and tax collectors were converting, but the Pharisees were not.
The next thing today’s text from Matthew tells us, is that Jesus rebukes the listeners who haven’t responded to his call or John’s, likening them to children who won’t sing when musicians play a lament or a song of celebration. So could it be that Jesus means to contrast this lazy, unresponsive, crowd with the energetic souls who not only made the trip to John in the wilderness but committed themselves to change their way of life? Those souls did violence to their old way of life and thereby forced themselves into the Kingdom of Heaven – perhaps as one squeezes through a narrow gate or the eye of a needle? Are you willing to do whatever it takes to be part of the Kingdom of God? … Are you willing to lose your dignity and get down there in the mud?
I hope we can number ourselves among the ‘invaders’ who know we have already set foot in the Kingdom. But we are also evangelists – can can we encourage more souls to become invaders? Or just as an army carries its cooks, medics and porters into newly taken territory, are there souls we can carry with us into Kingdom of God?
Last night, one of our members shared her sense that we are being called to play a new game, prompted by the way the running track behind our building had been replaced by a playing field. I quipped that I hoped our game would be rugby, not football, because a successful team scores ‘conversions’. That wasn’t an idle quip – God can speak to us through the language of puns and I believe there’s something to learn here.
Yesterday I too went for a walk on that field, and I looked down and saw the prints of many rugby boots. I knew God was showing me something important, but I didn’t know what it was until that thought was shared yesterday.
Some of us might not know the rules of rugby, but I do, and for three reasons.
First, I’m Welsh.
Second, I grew up a mile from Stradey Park and from home I could hear the roar of the crowd whenever Llanelli Scarlets scored.
Third, I was a large child, so at school I was put in the scrum. That’s where eight bulky players from each side lock shoulders and shove hard to get the ball! That, of course, was enough to put me off rugby for life!
But what are the spiritual lessons of rugby for us?
A rugby squad has to work as a team to get the ball across the line. Different players have different roles. There are warriors – we call them the pack – who fight for the ball in the scrum or by tackling opposition players – physically trying to take the ball from them. It’s a violent game!
There’s a small player whose job is to bend down and place the ball when play restarts – that’s called the ‘scrum half’ – and who might be well-placed to pass the ball out again.
There are the runners whose job is to get the ball across the line – that’s called a try.
And there are kicking specialists, who score extra points by booting the ball between the goalposts – that’s called a conversion. Really!
Our goal is conversion – conversion to Christ.
Suppose the ball represents a soul who we want to evangelise.
Some of us are called to spiritual warfare or the work of apologetics, to protect such souls from an Enemy who wants them to travel in the wrong direction.
Some of us are good at making connections with people, having those conversations which build up faith and allow us to share faith.
Some of us are good at discipling people, which is journeying with someone ‘across the line’ where they make a commitment.
Ultimately the sign of a good conversion is we can let someone loose and they travel in the right direction on their own. Goal!
As individuals we may feel that we’re too small to achieve anything. But Isaiah says God is calling to his ’tiny worm’ and ‘puny mite’. A rugby squad needs its hooker. That puny player may not look impressive alongside the tall runners and squat pack members, but that tiny teammate is an essential part of a winning squad.
“The Kingdom of heaven is being invaded; energetic souls are forcing their way in!”
There’s one more thing about rugby – to be a top flight player you have to throw away your dignity. The hooker has to get down on the ground to snatch the ball and ends up where? In the mud! The pack members pull the opposition players down to the ground to steal the ball and end up where? In the mud! To score points, the runners have to get the ball on to the ground beyond the try-line, while still touching it. If they are being chased, they may have to lunge forward and throw themselves over the line. They end up where? In the mud!
So whether you’re a commando in the Lord’s army or a player in his rugby squad, you have a choice: victory or dignity. You can’t have both.
Both my home town and my home nation wear red when they enter battle with other rugby teams. There’s some scientific evidence that teams who wear red are more likely to win than those sporting any other colour – though it seems to work better in football. Red is the colour of victory over combat. Red is the colour which honours martyrs. Most of our martyrs suffered indignities before they died; they knew the colour of mud before the colour of blood. St Lucy and St John the Baptist – pray for us!
That was the natural question on the lips of Jesus’ followers when they heard these terrible predictions, and it’s a natural question for us to ask, too.
We can predict, reasonably well, when some disasterous things will take place. In fact, the word “dis-aster” literally means “bad star” and we know that one day, our nearest star, the Sun, will go bad. In about five thousand million years, it will run out of nuclear fuel and swell up, scorching planet Earth to a cinder, or perhaps even engulfing it entirely!
Five billion years is a long way away. But don’t relax yet! Some of the latest results from mapping the 300,000 stars nearest our Sun tell us that in just one and one-third million years, a passing star will cause thousands of comets to rain down upon planet Earth and perhaps cause other disruption in our solar system.
Cosmic disasters might be too far in the future to trouble our children’s children, but by the year 2080, it’s forecast that more than a million homes in the UK might be at risk of flooding, and our coastal roads and railway lines could be badly affected too. I talked about the environment a few weeks ago so I won’t go into detail again, but we can all do our bit by reducing the amount of energy we consume.
There’s another disasterous date to put on your calendar. 2036. That’s a mathematical prediction of when the number of people worshipping in this church will fall to zero, based on changing congregation numbers since 2009. The number of First Communions would fall to zero in 2030. Zero baptisms by 2024!
Now, these numbers are crude. It’s not always the right things to fit a straight light to a graph to make predictions. But what is clear is that the numbers for our parish are falling – of baptisms, of communions, and of people attending Mass. And that’s typical of most parishes. But Jesus didn’t call the church to shrink. He called us to go out and make disciples!
We live in an uncertain time. I was hoping that Archbishop George would have named my successor by now. We are all wondering whether there will be another priest ready to lead this parish in January. But whether you have another priest straight away or not, we all have a task, the work Jesus left to all his followers – making disciples of all nations. A priest can’t do it all on his own, anyway. So who in this congregation is actively asking, “What can we do to make our congregation grow? How do we help people who might leave, to stay? How can we ask new people to join?”
Avoiding disaster may need us to make some painful decisions. If the way we currently run our church is causing us to shrink or at least stay static, carrying on doing what we’re doing isn’t likely to make us grow. Maybe to be more effective we should be pooling our resources with other parishes. For now, this parish is able to pay its own way: we have cleared our debt. But we have barely enough people to fill the volunteer roles we need to keep everything running.
The Archbishop has already asked the parishes from Whitchurch thru Llanedeyrn to co-operate in what we call the Northern Arc… one natural next step is to ask whether St Philip Evans is big enough to survive and grow as an independent parish. And if the answer is “yes” right now, would it still be “yes” if most of our Indian parishioners were offered a Syro-Malabar service every weekend? Can we still run all the things an independent parish needs to run? They say turkeys don’t vote for Christmas, but it’s chickens who don’t make painful changes to secure the best possible future. The day might come when difficult questions have to be asked about Mass times or even merging with other parishes.
Even so, I’m not expecting change in the next year or two. The Archbishop says it is important that this parish has a priest to welcome new residents moving into all the new housing in this area. Perhaps we’re not at the point where we need to think about a merger. Perhaps there are enough resources in this community to be able to invest in things that will make this congregation grow. So which of you are actively asking “What makes successful parishes grow? When can we learn from thriving Catholic parishes?”
Next summer, all the priests and deacons in Cardiff will attend a three-day conference with an American lay woman, Sherry Weddell, who had a brilliant idea. She studied the stories of dozens of converts who started out as non-Catholics and ended up as very active Catholics. What do they all have in common? Sherry found out, and if we understand how non-Catholics become active Catholics, we can become very effective at inviting more non-Catholics to do the same!
All across the diocese, parishes are now being asked to run 6-week-long reading groups to study Sherry’s book, which is called Forming Intentional Disciples, to try out some of the ideas, and send delegates on June 15th to a day when they can share their experiences and receive coaching from Sherry herself. That could happen here, if a few of you choose to start a study group and work on encouraging parish growth. You don’t need to wait for a new priest to organise that!
“When will these things come to pass?” the disciples asked the Lord. “No-one knows the day or hour except the Father”, Jesus replied, speaking of the end of the world. But as for when studying and investing in the future of this parish will take place – that’s up to you!
“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth, peace to people of goodwill.”
One hundred years ago, for the first time in five brutal years, many parts of the world woke up to a Christmas at peace.
For us today, herald angels singing and refrains of “Gloria in excelsis!” are part of the magic and music that make this season feel like Christmas. That little line, “peace to people of goodwill”, passes quickly as one of the familiar phrases we expect to hear at this time of year.
But imagine those who gathered to celebrate Christmas in 1918, just weeks after the armistice which ended the First World War. Around every dinner table, families would have remembered absent family members, and friends, who laid down their lives. Their great relief that much of the world was at peace would have been mixed with deep questions – “was it worth the cost?” And around many tables, those who faced mortal peril, both those who fought and those whose homelands were invaded, would have been most profoundly aware that they were no longer at war.
The Christmas story begins with a family facing tension. Mary, pregnant at God’s command. Joseph, concerned that his wife was pregnant with a child not his own. Only through the message of an angel, speaking to Joseph in a dream, could this righteous man be reassured that he was doing God’s will by taking Mary as his wife. But we are given a glimpse of Joseph’s generous character when we are told that, had God not intervened, he would have dealt with Mary in a way which would have spared her public embarrassment.
There was no shortage of publicity when the Christ-child was born of Mary. St Luke’s Gospel tells us that an angel spoke to shepherds to say that the long-promised Saviour had been born in Bethlehem. Immediately a whole choir of angels appeared in the night skies, and we know very well what they sang, for these words have been taken up into the liturgy of the Catholic Church. Throughout the Latin Rite, these words are sung every Sunday apart from the six weeks of Lent and the four Sundays which prepare us for Christmas.
“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth, peace to people of goodwill.”
But what did the angels mean in their song? The Greek of St Luke’s Gospel could also be translated, “peace to the people with whom God is pleased!” Did they mean that God was pleased with the human race, and therefore sent us Jesus? Or did they mean that God was sending a gift of peace to be received by those of us who are people of goodwill?
There is truth in both ways of reading the message. So first let’s consider the claim that God is pleased with humanity. Certainly we are told in the opening chapters of the Bible that when the human race was made in God’s image, God saw that we were “very good”. Although the human race chose to disobey God through sin, God did not stop loving us. In the Old Testament, we read how God first chose one man, Abraham, and then a nation, Israel, and offered them special protection if they would be faithful to God’s commands. But this was only the opening of a story of salvation which reached its fullness in the Babe of Bethlehem.
When St Paul and St John reflected on what they knew of Jesus, Paul could write to the Romans that the proof of God’s love was that Christ died for us while we were still sinners. (Romans 5:8) St John could say that true love is God sending his Son to deal with our sin (1 John 4:9-11). But above all, John also quotes Our Lord himself instructing the Jewish scholar Nicodemus, that “God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)
On their own, these words are beautiful. But placed alongside our troubled world, they lose their shine. Imagine those families, scarred by war, sitting down for Christmas dinner 100 years ago, conscious of absent or wounded friends. But also think of those families who will sit down in 2018, who for the first time are missing a loved one due to cancer or some other deadly disease, or due to an act of deliberate violence, a road traffic accident, a natural disaster or some other cause. We know that the day must come when the oldest members of our family will no longer share our Christmas table, but feelings of deeper anger towards God might arise on the first Christmas after a more tragic loss – especially if that tragedy took place in the shadow of Christmas itself. Or our pain at Christmas might be due to the absence of a family, through miscarriage, or failure to conceive a child, with all the misunderstanding that comes from family and friends at such times.
It’s natural to be angry with God for a short time. Few of us have the courage of St Martha, who said to the Lord, “my brother wouldn’t have died if you were here, but I know he will rise again”. Most of us need to work through the anger and bargaining which are a normal part of grieving. When we look at the world around us, we cannot but conclude that God does not always prevent natural disasters or protect our loved ones from untimely deaths, however many ancient or modern miracles we know where individuals were saved. So if we are to believe in God, personal tragedy forces us to make a choice: is God the one we will blame for our troubles, or the one we will trust to carry us through?
If you search the Internet for the term, ‘Ugliest Woman in the World‘, you will find the story of Lizzie Velásquez, a Catholic from Austin, Texas. Due to a medical condition which makes her body unable to store any fat, when you look at Lizzie, what you see is skin and bones. But does Lizzie blame God? No! She has said: “God … blessed me with the greatest blessing of my life, which is my syndrome.” By the age of 25, Lizzie had graduated from college, published two books, and had gained a reputation as a motivational speaker.
You could ponder the story of Nick Vujicic, also a Christian, who was born with no arms or legs. That hasn’t stopped him travelling to 44 countries, becoming a film star, and speaking to more than two thousand audiences about what it means to live a life without limits!
Or you could look up the amazing story of Crystal McVea, a woman who has every reason to hate God. She was abused as a child. Aged nine, she turned to God for help, and chose to be baptised – but her suffering did not end. The emotional wounds of what she lived through continued to scar her teenage years. Later, her six-year-old son suffered severe brain damage because of a traffic accident. Aged 33, Crystal herself was taken into hospital with pancreatitis – and during treatment she was clinically dead for nine minutes.
Now, I’m always cautious about claims of “near death experiences” as proof of anything about God or heaven, but Crystal’s story is truly remarkable. You would have expected her to blame God or ask all the obvious “why” questions. That’s what she expected of herself. But that’s not what happened. As soon as she became aware of the loving presence she identified as “God”, her instinctive reaction was to fall down and worship. The expected questions, “Why didn’t you love me? Why did you let this happen?” melted away, and only one question remained: “Why didn’t I do more for You?” Her life was changed and her love for God was immeasurably deepened!
We are faced with two brutal facts. One is that there is suffering in this world. The other is that we claim “God is love”. So either we are wrong about God, or somehow, that perfect love exists alongside our broken world. Miracles may happen in answer to prayer, but God is not going to fix all the world’s problems from above. Rather, God has entrusted that work to us.
St John the Evangelist understood this very well. I’d like to read more fully from his first letter: Chapter 4, verses 9-12.
God’s love for us was revealed when God sent into the world his only Son so that we could have life through him; this is the love I mean: not our love for God, but God’s love for us when he sent his Son to be the sacrifice that takes our sins away. My dear people, since God has loved us so much, we too should love one another. No one has ever seen God; but as long as we love one another God will live in us and his love will be complete in us.
So I say again: “Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth, peace to people of goodwill.”
In these Christmas words, we hear ourselves being challenged. Are we truly people of good will?
In December 1914, the first Christmas of the Great War, German and British soldiers played football in no-man’s-land. Perhaps not as extensively as the rumours would have you believe, but the historians have checked it out, and in one or two places, it did happen.
In December 2014, America woke up one Thursday morning to discover that – with a little help from Pope Francis – Cuba and the United States were going to repair their tattered and shattered relationship.
In places where peace seems most unlikely, the Prince of Peace has triumphed. God will always do this, if we have patience and trust. And Christmas is a time of year which offers us special opportunities. Family members who might not be together for the rest of the year will be gathered together around one table. Perhaps this means that you will be forced to spend time with a relative or friend you don’t get on with – perhaps even someone who has broken a promise to you, publicly embarrassed you, or harmed you in some other way. This may feel like a threat, but it’s actually an opportunity.
As human beings, our natural reaction is to ask “Who started it?” and seek an apology. But that’s not God’s way. No, the question God asks is “Who is willing to end it?” – in Chapter 5 of St Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus tells us:
“If you are bringing your offering to the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your offering there before the altar, go and be reconciled with your brother first.”
This matters! In fact, it matters so much that St Paul wrote that “anyone who eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will be behaving unworthily towards the body and blood of the Lord.” The Communion that we receive at Mass is only a Holy Communion when we have made peace with all the members of our community.
Making the first move for peace might seem unfair. What Our Lord did at Christmas was not fair. He was God, free by nature of all human suffering or limitations. But nine months after he humbled himself to take flesh in the womb of the Virgin, he appeared among us as a helpless infant – the opening lines in a new chapter of our salvation. What Our Lord did on the Cross was not fair – it was the greatest act of generosity in the history of the human race. He took on himself all our sins – and it was for that reason that he first took upon himself our human flesh. We are asked to imitate him in a very small way, humbly making peace without seeking the satisfaction of an apology.
Often enough, there’s no possibility of an apology in any case. We are human beings from different cultures, different nations, and different ways of thinking. Two people can approach the same situation, or even hear the very same words spoken, and interpret things in very different ways. Each person has their own integrity, and might do what they believe to be right – and still conflict comes, because our perspective is so different. This is why God doesn’t ask “Who started it?” but only “Who will make peace?” Even when there is clearly a wrongdoer and a person wronged, the one who has been wronged is asked to act with goodwill towards the offender.
“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth, peace to people of goodwill.”
For members of the Catholic Church, the year 2018 has been one when we have been made particularly aware of the wrongdoing of some of our most prominent members. A small number of priests and prelates have sinned against innocent children – a small number, but even one offender is capable of inflicting great harm. Many bishops have been put under the spotlight for the way they have handled allegations. Our bishops have a responsibility towards both their people and their priests, and every bishop is chosen from among priests who have exercised the ministry of forgiving sins. We see now that many bishops have been too slow to listen to their people’s concerns and too quick to excuse their priests, or believe that a repentant sinner will not re-offend. But our bishops are not policemen, and they deserve the benefit of the doubt in those cases where what they failed to act on were suspicions rather than allegations.
I’m not a bishop, but I am a car driver and I have once or twice been caught in that legal trap where, after a minor bump, I have wanted to say “I’m awfully sorry, that was entirely my fault,” but the words die on my lips. The moment I admit responsibility by apologising, my insurance would become void. I’m sure that bishops, who rely on insurance to cover church legal costs, find themselves gagged by the possible consequences when their Christian instincts call on them to say more.
I know that some members of Christ’s faithful people are still in pain because they feel let down by the way our Church has failed to be the kind of Church we ought to be. If that’s your situation, I want to encourage you to do something about it. There is no sin in going to the police or in contacting a higher authority in the church, if you have never done so, or if you’ve been ignored by a parish priest or bishop in the past. But once you have done what you can to raise your concerns with those who will take them seriously, can you find it within you to forgive the Catholic Church for not being perfect on earth?
“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth, peace to people of goodwill.”
We in the Catholic Church have a communication problem. Half of our message gets through clearly – we’re well known for being a church with clear DOs and DON’Ts – and so rightly we are condemned more harshly than other organisations when criminal behaviour is found in our midst. But the other half of our message is a well-kept secret: we are a church for people who don’t always get things right. We call Jesus the Prince of Peace, because he has the power to heal the mind, and to restore the body, too, for those humble enough to seek God’s help.
That help, that God-given peace, comes in the form of a royal baby. Across those Commonwealth nations which acknowledge Queen Elizabeth II as head, royal-watchers know that the Queen is expecting her eighth great-grandchild. This year’s announcement that Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, is expecting her first child next April means that once again, newspapers will soon be filled with baby-talk as medical experts discuss morning sickness while fashion editors mull over maternity-wear. The Duke and Duchess of Sussex have already been given gifts for their unborn child during their trip through Australasia.
For a brief and beautiful moment, whenever a member of a royal family announces a pregnancy, the media sees the beauty of a child in the womb for what it is; a human life. No newspaper reported that the Duchess was carrying a royal foetus, or a pre-human embryo. Because the child was a wanted child, there was no hesitation in calling it a child and pondering its royal status. Not all children receive such recognition.
Perhaps there’s someone listening who, in a moment of darkness, has hurt another human being – a friend, a parent, or an unborn child – and doesn’t know how to find peace. If that’s you, then know that the Prince of Peace wishes to offer you healing, through the Church. There are paths to peace of mind through prayer and counselling. If you ask for help, the Church will not condemn you, but will help you to find the peace which only Christ can bring.
All of us, prelates, priests and people, must do whatever we can to bring peace, justice and goodwill to our own families and to our church family. The Hebrew word for peace is “Shalom” – so we could fairly say that when the Christmas angels appeared over Bethlehem, their message was: “Shalom, world!”
What does God ask of us in return? That we should give Him glory! St Irenaeus, a bishop whose very name means “man of peace”, lived in France 200 years after the birth of Christ. Irenaeus famously said that the “Glory of God is a human being fully alive!” But to be fully alive we must receive all of God’s gifts: the charity that helps us forgive our enemies, the faith that a loving God exists alongside a broken world, and hope that in the fullness of time, all shall be well. Jesus wants to give each of us a gift this Christmas, the gift of fullness of life, of spiritual security. But beware! This is a demanding gift! Once God’s love is poured into our hearts, we cannot help becoming overflowing vessels pouring ourselves out in service to others; we cannot help becoming people of peace compelled to forgive what should not be forgotten. We will become people for others, whose very lives proclaim “Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth, peace to people of goodwill.”
To end, let me share with you a truly Christmassy story, of small acts of goodwill at most inconvenient time:
In my first parish, I was once called upon to help a pregnant mother, who had given birth to twins two days before Christmas. Her due date was in January, and although she already had children, she’d planned to buy a second set of the things you need for twins in the post-Christmas sales. But now she had gone into early labour, and the hospital planned to discharge her on Christmas Day. She lived in a rural village with no chance of buying baby equipment locally in the days after Christmas. I had only one opportunity to appeal for help – to the congregations who would come to my church on Christmas Eve. My parishioners responded gloriously with useful gifts pouring into my presbytery on Christmas morning – after my last Mass on Christmas Day I met the parents in the hospital car park and handed over a carrycot and other useful equipment before driving home to my parents. What could be more Christmassy then helping a baby in need?
The Prince of Peace came not to spare us from trials, but to lead us through them.
In God’s plan, nothing is more secure than a death, trusting in God, followed by a resurrection.
God is the one who comes as a King laid in a manger.
God is the one who brings hope to the hopeless, who causes love and peace to flourish where all hope seems lost.
The Christ-child was born of Mary to show us how God keeps his promises not by shielding us from tragedy but by walking with us through the heart of the pain and raising us up on the other side. This pain was felt by the Holy Family when Joseph doubted Mary’s faithfulness, and again when Herod’s desire to kill the newborn king forced them into exile in Egypt. The pain was felt anew by Our Blessed Mother at the foot of the Cross, only to be replaced by the glory of the Resurrection. This pain was known by those families of Christmas 1918, who knew both the prize and the price of peace. Like St Joseph and our Blessed Mother, Crystal McVea, Nick Vujicic and Lizzie Velásquez all chose to praise God in the midst of the difficulties they faced. Will you join them? Ours is an uncomfortable God, a God of both gifts and surprises, but the only God worth celebrating this Christmas.
“Glory to God in the Highest! And on earth, peace to people of goodwill.”
And may the blessing of the Prince of Peace fill your hearts with joy. A Blessed Christmas to you all.
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