Carol Service reflection

 A very brief reflection in the middle of our carol service

So.

It is Christmas again.

We are in the middle of hearing the Christmas story, of how the world went wrong, and what God did to put it right again.
All our readings so far have been optimistic promises –
that Abraham’s descendant will bring blessings to all the nations of the earth;
that the king is coming and will usher in a reign of justice for the poor and peace for all of God’s creation;
that a king will be born to a people in darkness.
And that God is rejoicing over us with singing.

So what, I wonder, has gone wrong?

These last few years have been pretty awful. I believe there is an ancient Chinese curse that reads “May you live in interesting times!”
Seems that someone has invoked that curse,
what with first of all the pandemic,
and then this year, just as things got a bit easier,
the war in Ukraine and its impact on the rest of Europe,
the Queen’s death,
galloping inflation, the energy crisis, strikes….
What has happened, and will there ever be an end?
And where, we wonder, is God in all this?
What of those magnificent promises we have just heard?

You know, desperate as it feels right now, we’ve been here before.
Some of you may remember, as I do, the 1970s,
when it was very similar to now –
an energy crisis, galloping inflation, strikes, a government which appeared not to care…
I missed the worst of it as I was living and working in Paris at the time,
but it was difficult not to know about it from letters and phone calls from family and friends.

And, of course, there have been wars, plagues, storms, all sorts of disasters, both man-made and natural, all down the centuries.
And people have looked around and wondered “Where is God in this?”

One of the earliest efforts to come to terms with it all is the Book of Job.
You remember how Job’s life went totally pear-shaped –
God knew all about it and had given permission for this to happen –
and his friends tried to make it be all his fault.
Which it totally wasn’t, and Job knew this,
so he demanded answers from God.
God eventually answered Job, reminding him of the glories of creation that were all around him, that Job could have done nothing about:

‘Do you give the horse its might?
    Do you clothe its neck with mane?
Do you make it leap like the locust?
    Its majestic snorting is terrible.’

It’s wonderful stuff, and goes on for several chapters.
And at the end, Job has to acknowledge God’s greatness,
and “repents in dust and ashes”, we are told.
It’s one of the earliest attempts to come to terms with the fact that awful things do happen, and we can often do nothing about them.

But then, Jesus himself said they would.
He said there would be wars,
and plague,
and famine,
and all sorts of disasters.
He told his disciples that they would be killed by those who thought they were doing God’s work.
But he also reminded them –
and us –
that the Holy Spirit would come.
And, he said, he has told us this so that we may have peace.
In this world we will have trouble.
“But take courage!
I have overcome the world!”

So as we move into the second half of this service,
and hear once again the ancient story of how God became a human baby in a remote corner of an Empire,
let’s remember that, despite appearances,
God is in charge, and we can know his peace –
shalom, which means so much more than peace.
In the Bible, according to one scholar,

shalom means universal flourishing, wholeness and delight –

a rich state of affairs in which natural needs are satisfied and natural gifts fruitfully employed,

a state of affairs that inspires joyful wonder as its Creator and Saviour opens doors and welcomes the creatures in whom he delights.

Shalom, in other words, is the way things ought to be.

The way things ought to be.
We know full well that right now, things are not right,
and they very seldom are.
But we can know God’s peace, God’s shalom, in our hearts, no matter what.
Emmanuel.
God with us.
Amen.