SERMON BY THE VICAR:Midnight Mass of the Nativity 2022

Readings:  Isaiah 52:7-10, Hebrews 1:1-4, John 1: 1-14

Angels are all around us, all the time. I see lots sitting in this church tonight with or without wings. And as King Charles said of his beloved mother and our beloved late Queen, “May flights of angels wing thee to thy rest.”  Without being overly pious, I was acutely aware of the presence of angels, seen and unseen, in the two war zones I have visited this year – Ukraine and Ethiopia. Angels are especially present to those in danger, and innocent victims of war and persecution. They bring both hope and light. We need all three – angels, hope and light, as 2022 ends, and as we wing our way into 2023. The year past has been a deeply challenging year for so many – 65 million around the globe who are forced from their homes, food insecurity in many parts of the world, especially East Africa, and 49 hot conflicts registered globally, including of course Ukraine. It seems the human lot is continuing degradation of our fellow humans and the planet. But this is not the final word. We have the finale word now in this transforming celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. So, this transforming celebration gives me two aspects I'd like to speak about at this Midnight Mass – hope and light.

First, hope. A study published recently in the medical journal The Lancet makes the claim that hope is a key factor in human well-being. A medical friend showed it to me with the words – “one day medicine will catch up with religion.”  The birth of a child is, often, a sign of hope. The birth of this child, Jesus Christ, is the birth which gives hope to everyone, even though we are told that 1 in 5 of the British public have no idea that Christmas is the celebration of Christ’s birth. This birth changes everything, which is one of the main reasons why in Orthodox iconography the birth of Christ takes place in a cave not in a stable – as the cave symbolises the human heart. We become, through this birth, a new humanity. Last month I was privileged to see the bones of Lucy. Lucy is 2.3million years old and is the first time we encounter our own species homo sapiens. Lucy is of course in the Rift Valley in Ethiopia, and I am reminded also that the message of the good news of Jesus Christ also begins in the Rift Valley, but this time in Jordan – the lowest place on the earth’s surface. Both pose the question which many say will be the only question for the 21st century – what makes the human person? What makes you and me human? The answer lies in what we celebrate today. If Lucy is our mother, then God is our father as night follows day. This is true hope. I take a simple example from this growing church. People feel lost through the post-truth era in which we now live and see the failure of the institutions which surround us –all accompanied by the rise of social fragmentation. In this scenario, people feel lost and bewildered, so it is no surprise that people need hope to sustain and energise. The growth of this church is fuelled of course by immigration which brings the wholly positive benefits of people who are far more confident in articulating their faith. So, over the past decade we have seen a fourfold increase in the numbers of people regularly attending this church. So, this brings me to the first part of the answer as to what makes us fully human- we are a part of God, because God becomes part of humanity. This is true hope.

And this immediately brings me to the second point “light.” As the Gospel puts it “The light shines in the darkness.”  God becomes fully human. And what characterises our human condition has been described as radical insecurity. The word used in Greek for dwelt among us can be equally translated into English as “pitched his tent among us.”  Here, into the world of radical insecurity comes God. This too make us fully human. And we need no reminders of this. We continue in this Church to work with survivors of the Grenfell Tower tragedy, as we have done since the early hours of that fateful summer morning over 5 years ago. Undocumented survivors are a particularly powerful reminder of that radical insecurity with which we live, especially of we are part of the 65 million displaced people around the globe. If you haven’t yet seen it, do see Ai Wei Wei’s film Human Flow, which powerfully depicts this global migration. This is true humanity, and for all the props we may put around ourselves in terms of material possessions, this is also our narrative. The trafficked people in this church, together with a good number of asylum seekers and refugees with the Filipino, Persian and Ukrainian communities we host remind us powerfully that their lot is our lot. We are bound together through our shared humanity. The poem Refugee by Michael Guite, which was read at the Princess of Wales Carol Concert in Westminster Abbey last week puts it like this “The lambs are slaughtered by the men of power, and death squads spread their curse across the world. But every Herod dies and comes come alone to stand before the Lamb upon the throne.” Yet into this darkness comes light, and we are not without signs of hope. Hold on to this. Light comes to all of us in darkness through the birth of Christ.

I have spoken about hope and light, and asked the question “What makes us human?”  The second century church Father Irenaeus wrote this “The Glory of God is a human being – fully alive.” What we celebrate tonight makes us fully alive. We can and will do our part in making 2023 a real year of hope, where we work at demonstrating a more hopeful, and therefore Godlier, world order. In this church, we can and will contribute to the building up of a less fragmented Borough. We are already doing this, as we bring people together who would not normally be seen listening to each other. Working closely with the Probation Service, as we do in this church, I see new hope emerging all the time out of lives seemingly wrecked. When I visited someone in Wormwood Scrubs, he said to me, “I’m at rock bottom now, and life can only get better.”  That’s the job of all of us, the new humanity. But we need all hands on deck.  The census of 2021 shows a 14% drop in those who call themselves Christians.  If the same rate of decline continues, it will be game over for the churches of this country by 2051, including this one.  From wherever you have come, are you willing and inspired  to join this work?

This Midnight Mass is often a poignant time of year for individuals. We all bring our own stories to this celebration, and for most people these stories are mixed- some good, some bad, some achievements, some failures, some foolishnesses, some regrets. So, whether this year past has been good, bad, or indifferent for you, may you know that you yourself are the glory of God, as a human being, fully alive. The birth of Jesus Christ makes us fully alive and changes everything, as we live it year by year. It can even change that most unchangeable of realities, you, and me. To use words of John our Patron “Behold, I make all things new” May this continue to be true for all of us, and may 2023 be for our whole world an annus mirabilis, a year of grace and wonders through the birth of Jesus who is hope and light.