The Eucharist of Christmas Morning, 2007

A year ago on Christmas morning I attended the Eucharist at St Thomas’s Salisbury, which was then my parish church. There was a new vicar in post and he was celebrating his first Christmas. As is the way with new vicars (at least, some new vicars) he had Ideas, with a capital I. One of these was the expansion of the traditional nativity play. None of the exclusivism of a cast for him: every child present was invited to come in costume, as an angel, a shepherd or a wise man – whatever he or she fancied, or, more likely, whatever his or her harassed parents could rustle up amidst the mad rush of breakfast consumption, lunch preparation and stocking-opening . This being a parish with a lot of children in it, the effect was rather spectacular. There were choirs of angels, great flocks of shepherds, an embarrassment of wise men, and much lusty singing around the manger.

Like Christmas lights in shopping streets, nativity plays are one of this country’s seasonal Aunt Sallies. Someone somewhere will always be found arguing, or appearing to argue, for their inappropriateness to the modern age. I disagree, and rank the nativity play’s detractors alongside Ebenezer Scrooge and those joyless Protestants who tried to ban Christmas pudding over 300 years ago.

Mind you, I also disagree with those who think them merely a convenient vehicle for the channelling of school-age exuberance at this time of year. And I disagree with those who think them just a spectacle for proud parents and grandparents to watch and applaud. That’s quite a lot of disagreement for a festive morning, so let me try to make the case for tinsel and tea-towels, for stuffed sheep and Away in a Manger.

Those who participate in a nativity play do more than learn the words and sing the songs. They live the story, and so they set a pattern for us all. You see, secular traditions of present-giving, party-going and over-eating threaten to overwhelm the story of the angels and shepherds. But a far greater danger arises when that story stops being something that we live and becomes just another tradition, when it takes its place alongside the TV specials and the pantomime as something to be enjoyed at this time of year.

I’m not sure that my colleague in Salisbury went far enough. How much better it would have been if he’d insisted that everyone, whatever their age or status, had come equipped to take part in the nativity play. And be warned – this still-new vicar is capable of having ideas, too. Maybe in twelve months time I’ll be looking out at a crowd of extras from some old-fashioned Biblical television blockbuster. For I believe we are all called to be players in God’s great drama. We are all called to be shepherds and angels and wise men. Is that not the point of the birth we celebrate this morning?

If you are unconvinced allow me to approach this differently, from the perspective of the villains of the story, the perspective of the innkeepers of Bethlehem and of Herod the king. The innkeepers turn away the exhausted couple; they wash their hands of the pregnant teenager. Each of us has had some experience of closing the door on the needy. Herod seeks to destroy the thing that threatens his throne. Each of us has felt undermined by the new, the different, the unexpected. Each of us has sought to choke it at birth. The shadowy underside of the nativity story reflects the shadowy underside of our own stories.


Sadly, perhaps other parallels between the story and our stories are harder to find. The angels set the heaven alight with the joy of their praises. Are we full of joy this morning, or full of anxiety, anxiety at the state of the lunch, or the state of the church, or the state of our investments? The shepherd trusted the angels and left their flocks to the uncertainties of the hillside and the ravages of wolves. Are we full of trust this morning, or full of suspicion, suspicion of one another, or of the mass media and the banks, or of those of different faiths? The wise men persevered on a journey through mountain top and desert waste. Are we set to persevere this morning, set to follow the star wherever it may lead, until we discover the truth of Christ for ourselves? Or does sound as though it might interfere with our carefully manicured plans for the New Year?

So never mind charades: here’s a parlour game for this afternoon, when the nose has been cut off the Stilton, the chocolates have been opened and the port is flowing freely. In 2007 which nativity character did you most closely resemble? And in 2008 which will you seek to imitate? I may be merciful, and may not insist on a dress code of angels’ wings, sparkly crowns and rustic dressing gowns next Christmas. But I hope to see a lively company of players who have made the story real in their communities. Thus, only thus, will Christ be brought to birth for our city, in our time. Amen.