Sunday's coming!

If the story of the birth of Jesus doesn’t leave you shaking your head in disbelief, maybe you haven’t been listening properly. Don’t panic, I’m not going to give you one of those gloomy sermons about how the gospel accounts are all different and a bit unreliable and we’ve got to stop imaging the stable in Bethlehem.  But just before tomorrow’s festivities, as we quietly think about the night Jesus was actually born, let’s pause for a moment to take in how strange and amazing the story actually is.    The story, ‘Cat in the manger’, gives us a cat’s eye view of the stable in Bethlehem. And helps us reflect on the starring role given to the  manger  in the story of Jesus’ birth. The baby was laid in a manger.   Well, of course he was, because we’re so used to seeing our lovely nativity scenes with Mary & Joseph in the stable and the baby tucked safely into the warm, soft, sweet hay.   Perhaps it has become no more strange to us than the stories our grandparents told us of new-born b

This is the night when we contemplate the most awesome moment in human history. “The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth”.   I asked Susan to read a different version of the reading form the beginning of John’s gospel – not because I don’t love the poetic language of the King James Version we are more used to hearing, but because I wanted us to try to grasp this amazing moment in a fresh way.   So Eugene Peterson has re-written the New Testament Greek of John’s gospel using what he calls ‘the language of the street – the way you’d talk with friends, write a letter, or discuss politics.”  So his version reads “The word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighbourhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes…true from start to finish”.     In beginning his gospel as he does, John is not trying to wow us with beautiful poetry or bamboozle us with complex theological ideas. John is tryi

Isaiah 40: 1-11,   Mark 1: 1-8 Can you remember when you were little? Old enough to be walking.. but young enough to get tired a long time before the adults you were with – and maybe older brothers or sister or cousins.  Everyone else is striding along, determinedly, tirelessly, focussed on getting.. wherever it is you are going. You start off walking full of energy, maybe even skipping, perhaps chatting happily to the person whose hand you are holding.  But after walking for a long, long time the path seems to have no end and it’s hard, and you’re starting to tire. You start to wonder if your legs can really carry you much further… you stop talking to save your breath… you start to feel a bit wobbly, not just your legs, but you’re getting tearful – so, so, tired.  Really you want to stop and rest. You look up at your dad or your mum or whoever you’re with and say “I can’t go much further. I only have little legs..” or maybe you just cry. The long legs next to you stop; strong arms rea

Isaiah 64: 1-9    Mark 13: 24-37 Keep Awake sound like good advice for any sermon! But when Jesus says ‘Beware, keep alert  and  keep awake’ there is clearly some kind of warning here about how we react to the things we see happening in the world around us. There seems to be something especially cruel about hearing news of the world in turmoil as we are also preparing to celebrate Christmas. In the Landsker Singers Christmas Concert we are singing a piece by John Rutter “The very best time of year”. I can’t believe it will feel like the very best time of year for the people of Gaza, or the Israeli families still waiting for released hostages; or the people of Ukraine nearly two years after the Russian army’s invasion; or for those of us who are acutely aware of the loved ones we will miss this Christmas.   How can we celebrate peace and joy on earth when the world is in such a state? And yet, the state of the world and the coming of Christ are intricately linked. Jesus was  not  born s