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i-Llan: connecting faith, life and scripture - i-Llan 24th December 2023 - Welcoming the Stranger

i-Llan 24th December 2023 - Welcoming the Stranger

12/23/23 • 6 min

i-Llan: connecting faith, life and scripture

Transcript
This Sunday is both the last Sunday in Advent and Christmas Eve, which brings together two contrasting moods.
One of Advent’s themes, as I mentioned last week, is judgement. The Bible speaks of a last day when a victorious Christ comes on clouds to the sound of trumpets accompanied by triumphant saints and angels, after which this earth comes to a fiery end.
The gospels tell us that Jesus himself used such images when he spoke about a future day of judgement. They portray a God who seizes authority over the earth with frightening power. They are images drawn from ancient apocalyptic writing, but the terror they inspire is only too real for those existing in the war zones of today.
Then, Christmas Eve brings us to Bethlehem, reminding us that at that first Christmas God came as a vulnerable baby born in borrowed lodging and cradled in an animals’ feeding trough. Jesus’s later life shows a similar willingness to be vulnerable: immersed in the waters of baptism, riding into Jerusalem ‘humble and seated on an donkey’, tortured and bleeding as he dies on a cross.
Even after the resurrection, he is often unrecognised: a stranger in the garden until he calls Mary Magdalene by name (John 20. 11 - 18), a stranger on the shore who invites the disciples to share breakfast (John 21. 1 - 14), a stranger on the road who explains the scriptures to two despondent travellers so that their hopes are rekindled (Luke 24. 13 - 35).
How can we reconcile the contrasting moods of judgement and vulnerability to find a way of living which respects them both?
They tell me of a God who created and sustains the universe and has the power to bring everything to an apocalyptic end. Yet a God who risks becoming vulnerable in order to heal divisions of hatred by the power of love, [a God who waits patiently] for us to get the message and act on it.
This God invites me—and you—to risk welcoming the reality of divine love into our lives; invites me—and you—to risk accepting the Bethlehem baby as living Saviour.
Moreover, God also invites me to risk being open to those who are different from me. For God yearns for us to help build the future in which strangers become companions, enemies become friends. Then, judgement is not punishment but healing.
Welcoming the stranger is a vision which can be romanticised. I am certainly no St Francis or Mother Theresa. Pragmatically, I know that safeguards are a sensible precaution. I understand that charities implement vetting procedures to protect against scams. Yet, when I risk seeing beyond the labels that divide the world into factions, and when I engage with the human beings behind the labels, then I discover how Christ is present in the most unexpected places and people. In welcoming them I welcome him, and am welcomed in turn.
I wonder who offered Joseph and Mary a place to stay that night, and whether they ever realised how they had welcomed God into the world.
I wonder, too, how often (God forgive me) I have shut the door in his face—and how often I have welcomed him without realising it. This Christmas I pray again with the carol:
O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to me, I pray;
cast out my sin and enter in; be born in me today.
May Christ find room in your heart and soul today and every day, and may you always be open to the possibility of love in unexpected places and people.

i-Llan is part of alisteningspace.uk

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Transcript
This Sunday is both the last Sunday in Advent and Christmas Eve, which brings together two contrasting moods.
One of Advent’s themes, as I mentioned last week, is judgement. The Bible speaks of a last day when a victorious Christ comes on clouds to the sound of trumpets accompanied by triumphant saints and angels, after which this earth comes to a fiery end.
The gospels tell us that Jesus himself used such images when he spoke about a future day of judgement. They portray a God who seizes authority over the earth with frightening power. They are images drawn from ancient apocalyptic writing, but the terror they inspire is only too real for those existing in the war zones of today.
Then, Christmas Eve brings us to Bethlehem, reminding us that at that first Christmas God came as a vulnerable baby born in borrowed lodging and cradled in an animals’ feeding trough. Jesus’s later life shows a similar willingness to be vulnerable: immersed in the waters of baptism, riding into Jerusalem ‘humble and seated on an donkey’, tortured and bleeding as he dies on a cross.
Even after the resurrection, he is often unrecognised: a stranger in the garden until he calls Mary Magdalene by name (John 20. 11 - 18), a stranger on the shore who invites the disciples to share breakfast (John 21. 1 - 14), a stranger on the road who explains the scriptures to two despondent travellers so that their hopes are rekindled (Luke 24. 13 - 35).
How can we reconcile the contrasting moods of judgement and vulnerability to find a way of living which respects them both?
They tell me of a God who created and sustains the universe and has the power to bring everything to an apocalyptic end. Yet a God who risks becoming vulnerable in order to heal divisions of hatred by the power of love, [a God who waits patiently] for us to get the message and act on it.
This God invites me—and you—to risk welcoming the reality of divine love into our lives; invites me—and you—to risk accepting the Bethlehem baby as living Saviour.
Moreover, God also invites me to risk being open to those who are different from me. For God yearns for us to help build the future in which strangers become companions, enemies become friends. Then, judgement is not punishment but healing.
Welcoming the stranger is a vision which can be romanticised. I am certainly no St Francis or Mother Theresa. Pragmatically, I know that safeguards are a sensible precaution. I understand that charities implement vetting procedures to protect against scams. Yet, when I risk seeing beyond the labels that divide the world into factions, and when I engage with the human beings behind the labels, then I discover how Christ is present in the most unexpected places and people. In welcoming them I welcome him, and am welcomed in turn.
I wonder who offered Joseph and Mary a place to stay that night, and whether they ever realised how they had welcomed God into the world.
I wonder, too, how often (God forgive me) I have shut the door in his face—and how often I have welcomed him without realising it. This Christmas I pray again with the carol:
O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to me, I pray;
cast out my sin and enter in; be born in me today.
May Christ find room in your heart and soul today and every day, and may you always be open to the possibility of love in unexpected places and people.

i-Llan is part of alisteningspace.uk

Previous Episode

undefined - i-Llan Sunday 17th December 2023 - Preparing the Way

i-Llan Sunday 17th December 2023 - Preparing the Way

'Transcript:
Advent is a season of preparation. It’s nearly Christmas and shops are full, delivery drivers are busy, presents are being wrapped, carols are being sung. I’ve even got my Christmas cards into the postbox before the last posting day—a record!

But, what about preparation for beyond Christmas? Not just plans for 2024 but the note of judgment that sounds throughout Advent?

‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight’ is the cry of the Old Testament prophet and of John the Baptist. In ancient times, when a king was going on a journey, working parties would be sent out to prepare the route, remove obstacles, make sure all was smooth riding. If we look around the world today, there are so many obstacles in the way of peace, justice, and right living that ‘preparing the way of the Lord’ may seem an impossible task. We are so small and powerless. We can’t make much difference in global terms, can we?

Have you ever walked into a room where there has been a quarrel, sensed the tension and immediately felt tense? Or stood in a peaceful place and soaked in the peace? Atmosphere influences us.

I trust that is true on the large scale, that every act of love increases love in the world, every gentle word or touch increases gentleness in the world, that our small acts—for good or ill—influence world affairs.

In other words, we prepare the way of the Lord by living in a way that God desires.

For the prophet Isaiah, in today’s first reading, that means becoming ‘good news’ for those in trouble. And, in the second reading, St Paul exhorts the Christians in Thessalonica to:
‘Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise the words of prophets, but test everything; hold fast to what is good; abstain from every form of evil.’

Or, as Gandalf puts it in the film of The Hobbit:
‘Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.’

Perhaps we can’t directly bring peace to Ukraine or Gaza or other places where violence holds sway, but we can continue to stay informed and offer our prayers for them. And we can strive to make our corner of the world a place where God’s way is made straight, trusting that God uses that for the greater good.

i-Llan is part of alisteningspace.uk

Next Episode

undefined - i-Llan: 31st December 2023 - the Animals at the Crib

i-Llan: 31st December 2023 - the Animals at the Crib

Transcript
The animals at the crib

On Christmas Day in the chapel where I was worshipping, I was struck by the number of sheep at the crib. Then it occurred to me that a Christmas crib is incomplete without animals—the ox and ass, and at least one lamb. And, of course, the camels with the magi on a nearby windowsill making their way to Bethlehem to arrive on 6 January.

Of those, the Bible only mentions sheep out in the fields. And given that the ‘shepherds went with haste’, I don’t imagine they took any of their flock with them. I assume some unlucky shepherd—probably the boy, or perhaps the oldest and slowest—was left in charge in the fields.

We can infer the nearby presence of animals given that Jesus was cradled in their feeding trough. And I really hope Mary didn’t have to walk all the way from Nazareth to Bethlehem given her advanced pregnancy. So I’m grateful for the donkey. (Yes, the donkey is there in the photo.) Similarly, camels, even horses, are a safe bet, though would they have gone in or would they have been left out in the street in the charge of the smallest pageboy?

Whatever the facts of the matter, it comforts me that animals are such an integral part of our imaginings of the nativity.

Ruminating further, I realise there is a deeper theological aspect to this. I often talk about God, in Jesus, coming to share our human life. But, the Christmas gospel tells us that
‘Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.’ (John 1. 3)
And St Paul writes to Christians in Colossae that
‘all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. . . through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.’ (Colossians 1.16, 17, 20)

In other words, in Jesus, God came to share all life on earth. Animals have as much place at the birth of the Lord of Creation as humans do.

Jesus grew up a country boy and his teaching is full of examples from farming life and the natural world. Miracle stories tell how he had power over natural forces: he calmed a storm, walked on water, fed 5000 people with five barley baps and two small fish. At his death, the earth quaked and the sun was hidden.

Today we are well aware of the climate crisis. I sometimes wonder whether, when people express concern for the planet, their concern is actually only for the human race. The planet may change but will survive. But human activity condemns many species as well as our own to hardship and possible extinction.

The animals at the crib remind me that I am one small part in a web of connections that bind all life together. Christmas is not just for humans but for the whole earth.

i-Llan is part of alisteningspace.uk

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