A pdf of the sermon below can be found here.
Crying at Christmas, 2011
St Peter’s Church, Wellington; Bishop Richard Randerson
I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting old and soft in the head, but I find myself with tears in my eyes more than I used to. I felt the tears on Friday night as I watched the people of Christchurch face yet another round of earthquakes. It’s the feeling that enough is enough and when will it end? How long can hope and courage last?
And then again yesterday when I heard the news about that little girl who had been assaulted in Turangi, and how people from all over New Zealand had swamped her with Christmas gifts. So many that her parents were now sharing them with other sick children in Waikato Hospital.
But I do note that I am not the only one who cries. We see people on TV struggling to control their tears, as they wrestle with deep human grief and loss. The tears speak of the intense love which as human beings we have one for another.
So I feel when I shed a tear or two that I’m in good company, and that maybe it’s more a softness of the heart than of the head. So what other things make us cry? And why on earth should we be talking of tears at Christmas time?
I also feel moved when I see people who struggle and sacrifice to achieve something worthwhile, and then attain it. Maybe we all shed tears of relief when we won the rugby world cup, but of course there are also many other things people throw themselves into out of deep conviction.
Like those young people today who dream of a better world where people care for the earth and for each other, and go out with Greenpeace, or move to the poorest parts of Africa where they act as doctors, or teachers, or agricultural mentors, often putting their own lives at risk in the process. And let’s not forget older people as well who likewise follow such visions and dreams, making career changes in mid-life, or deepening commitments to programmes of justice and compassion.
I was greatly moved also when I saw that woman whose two young daughters had been killed by her partner. In the face of such viciousness and desperate grief she was determined to see this never happened to others, and was committing herself to action. Her grief was crippling but it had not overcome her. She had risen above it to care for others.
I am moved also when I watch and listen to young mothers, and dads, and grandparents too, talking to their kids as they take them around town. Here is the next generation passing on the love and wisdom they have received to the generation coming after them. It’s what life at its best is all about.
Or sometimes I’m in a meeting dominated by petty considerations such as penny-pinching, or face-saving, or political advantage or self-promotion and someone just cuts right across all the blather with a reminder of what the real purpose of the meeting is, such as to work together to serve people better.
And I can be moved by the sheer generosity and goodness of another person, or by the richness and beauty of life and nature which surround us on all sides.
Tears are a sign that we are touching base with the things that really matter in life. Sometimes they are triggered by outside events, and sometimes by internal recognition. They can be fostered by times of silence, reflection and prayer when we ponder just what our life is really about.
Now if you connect the dots you can see easily why tears are a very Christmas theme. Because the things that make us cry are embodied perfectly in the Christ child whose birth we celebrate this night. His nature was one of love and compassion; he stood with the poor and the outcast; he responded generously and unstintingly, and challenged the untruths of institutions and the fickleness of the powers that be, eventually dying on a cross. All this was possible because he walked closely with God at the heart of life.
Love, faith, prophetic courage, sacrifice, justice, peace - such are the things that make up our spiritual DNA; they are timeless in nature, a timelessness captured by the words of tonight’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word; the Word was with God, and the Word was God”. These things have always been. In Jesus the divine building blocks of human life are there for all to see.
His was a light that illumines our darkness: ‘The light shines in the darkness’, says John, ‘and the darkness has never overcome it’.
After that it becomes a question of discernment. Can we see the light in our midst? Can we make it part of our life so that we live the divine truth revealed to us? Many of the people of Jesus’ time could not see it, or would not. John again: ‘he was in the world, yet the world did not know him’.
‘But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born not of flesh, nor of human will, but of God. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory of God’s only son, full of grace and truth’.
© Bishop Richard Randerson, 2011