Well, if the shops and ad breaks are to be believed, it's almost Christmas. So here is my yuletide reflection that will be published in our church magazine (slightly edited) this weekend.
Maybe this Christmas will mean
something more
Maybe this year love will appear
Deeper than ever before
And maybe forgiveness will ask us to call
Someone we love
Someone we’ve lost
For reasons we can’t quite recall
Mmm, maybe this Christmas
Maybe this year love will appear
Deeper than ever before
And maybe forgiveness will ask us to call
Someone we love
Someone we’ve lost
For reasons we can’t quite recall
Mmm, maybe this Christmas
Maybe there’ll be an open door
Maybe the star that shone before
Will shine once more,
Maybe the star that shone before
Will shine once more,
And maybe this Christmas will find us at last
In heavenly peace
Prayed for at least
For the love we’ve been shown in the past
Maybe this Christmas
Maybe this Christmas
In heavenly peace
Prayed for at least
For the love we’ve been shown in the past
Maybe this Christmas
Maybe this Christmas
Every year there seems to be good crop of Christmas albums.
Some are little more than collections of saccharine versions of carols and
Christmas classics produced to form the soundtrack to a thousand shopping trips
as well as swell the coffers of the act involved.
But over recent years a number of thoughtful artists have
produced albums that capture something of the conflicted feelings associated
with this time of year. In an increasingly secular society, Christmas is about parties
and presents, families and memories of happy times and maybe celebrating the
human capacity for being kind.
The Ron Sexsmith song Maybe this Christmas (above) appears on
the album Tinsel and Lights by Tracey Thorn. It’s a beautiful, haunting
track that expresses the longing for Christmas to mean something beyond a
food-filled, present fest that gives us a week off a work and hangover that
lasts through January.
What is striking about Thorn’s album is that it doesn't contain a
single rendition of a Christmas carol. Perhaps we should applaud her honesty –
after all, what is it with non-church-going artists feeling they need to
produce indifferent versions of Christmas classics? But it is a reminder that for
most of our neighbours Christmas has nothing to do with God. It is not about
the birth of his Son or the angels singing the story of how Jesus has come to
save the world.
Instead a theme of wistful longing pervades this record;
perhaps the same mood that is the backdrop of so many people’s Christmas. It
opens with a track that says ‘you loved it as a kid/now you need it more than
you ever did/it’s because of the dark/we see the beauty in the spark/that’s why,
that’s why/the carols make you cry…’ And the final line says ‘we must be
alright if we could make up Christmas night’. Is this a hope of reconciliation?
Or a hint that the original story might just be what our celebration of
Christmas is lacking?
But it is the Sexsmith track that stands at the emotional
heart of the album with its eye on what Christmas used to be about and what it
might be about again, if only…
There is a sense that Christmas is a place to hide from the
realities of life, a week of glitter and festivity that mask how we really
feel, a moment that points to something that might actually make our lives
better if only we could put our finger on precisely what it is.
We know that Christmas is a hard time for so many of our
neighbours. It’s expensive at a time when money’s tight; it’s a time for family
when we’re mourning the loss of a loved one; it’s a time of giving when we feel
empty; it’s a time of joy when we feel gloomy. For a while we will be carried
along by the tinsel and fairy lights, the soundtrack and re-runs of White
Christmas. But as Tracey Thorn sings on Snowman we do all this ‘knowing how soon it'll fade away’.
At the heart of our celebration is the truth that Christmas
changes everything. The message of the angels that a saviour is born in the
midst of danger and poverty, in a time of war and high taxes is good news to
all who struggle in the dark of winter, wondering whether there is any hope
anywhere.
So, as we get ready for Christmas – no doubt caught up in
some of the stress and angst of our neighbours – let us pause to remember what
we are celebrating. And then let’s share our joy at the coming of the Christmas
child with those around us – by inviting them to carol services (ours are on 23
December and feature Messy church, family carols and carols by candlelight; three
opportunities to hear afresh the Christmas story) or inviting them into our
homes for Christmas food and conversation (or both, of course).
Then
maybe there’ll be an open door,
Maybe the star that shone before
Will shine once more,
Maybe the star that shone before
Will shine once more,
and the light of God’s love will flood into all our lives,
those who are near and those who seem to be so far away, lost in the dark. And
then maybe ‘we’ll gather up our fears/and face down all the coming years/and
all that they destroy/and in their face we’ll throw our joy.’ Maybe...
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