Christmas Day Sermon 2018

Sermon, St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford.

John 1

I want to say how happy I am to be here today. To be precisely here, at St Michael’s, Little Ilford. You might say: that is not surprising; after all, next year you’ll be in prison on Christmas Day; of course, you find it more comfortable here. But that is only part of it. I’ll tell you truthfully there has also been a great pull this year, a pull to go back up North, a pull to go back to York quite specifically. And what has felt like a pull back to York has been one thing: Panto. The York Pantomime. The Pantomime at York Theatre Royal.

You may not know it, but the Panto in York is special. Oh yes it is! People do come to it from all parts of the country. They don’t get celebrities at the end of their career. (I’m rather pleased about how delicately I have phrased that; “clapped-out comedians” would be another way of putting it.) Rather, they have their own team. The Panto dame is famous, as Panto dame. Berwick Kaler. That is his job. He also writes the thing, starting, I dare say, in January. He’s from the North East, and he calls the whole audience “me babbies, me bairns”. But! But this year he is retiring. I am missing the last chance to see a Berwick Kaler Pantomime! And that is sad. And it is only your company, my brothers and sisters, that offers something better. Oh yes it does!

And, you know, I have long thought this. The art form that is on a cultural level closest to liturgy is Pantomime. I mean that in a good way; it is a compliment; being from York, I like Panto. Think about it.

·       In Panto as in Church, there are distinctive costumes, which make their own point.

·       In Panto as in Church there is “audience participation”, highly stylised, and singalongs.

·       In Panto as in Church, most people know the story, most of the time; you don’t go to Panto or to Church for the plot; you know it ends well.

·       Rather, you go (in part) to see what the people with speaking parts do with the story. And what they do with the story is an art in its own right. They have to make reference to current affairs for the adults. They also have to say things simply, for the children. And these three things – the story, the contemporary references, and the need to include children – have to be blended well, so that the whole thing flows.

·       And then there are more singalongs.

I don’t know if this convinces you at all. If you don’t like Pantomime, perhaps I have offended you by making this link. Of course, I am not saying liturgy is Pantomime; just that on a cultural level, they have quite a lot in common.

But! But there are indeed times in Church when the whole Pantomime-like element falls away. And this is important. Today is one of those times. 

The reading you absolutely have to have at Christmas is today’s gospel, the Prologue to John. In the beginning was the Word. However good a good Pantomime is, here there is no Pantomime. This is more like a statesperson giving a slow and solemn declaration, about war or peace, the state of the nation. Or, even better, this is like a poet saying: “I am now going to read you my finest work, the distillation of everything. Please be silent while I share the heart of my poetry with you.” In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was Gd, and the Word became flesh, and lived among us and we have seen his glory.

Truly, this is the Christmas story. This is the story behind the story, the essence of the story. I am sorry if you came expecting angels and shepherds and mangers. We had them last night as Midnight Mass. Today we have the story behind the story.

This is Christmas, and this is Christianity. Gd comes to be with us. To live with us. Or some translate: Gd pitched his tent with us. Gd tabernacled with us. Gd moved into neighbourhood. Gd moved in.

And because we are beyond anything like Pantomime now, the best response we can make to this is silence. As the baby Jesus did not – could not – speak (that is what infant means – one unable to speak), so we might receive this true poetry, this poetic truth, might simply receive this in wordlessness, in silence. Certainly, this is not something we can easily “get our heads around”.

So it is a good Christmas discipline for us to ask ourselves, at least in the privacy of our own hearts, how we relate to the Christian Christmas claim that Gd comes to be with us. 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was Gd, and the Word became flesh, and lived among us and we have seen his glory.

Do we believe it? Do we understand that this means that Gd in Christ is close to us? That this didn’t just happen a long way away a long time ago, but that Gd being one of us still stands as the truth, here and now? That no one in the history of humanity is closer to Gd than we can be, if we trust?

Is this even an attractive idea? I’m being deadly serious: Do we even want Gd to be close? Wouldn’t it really be more convenient if Gd were some distance away, helping us with our problems, sure, but not closely involved with the details of our lives, with what we choose to do? Ask yourself.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was Gd, and the Word became flesh, and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.

[Silence]

A Merry Christmas to you all. Gd is with you. Amen.

[Later, in tribute to the York Panto, Wagon Wheels were thrown.]