One of the simplest and yet most powerful testimonies I ever heard to this
great hope of ours was offered by one of my curates when I was Rector of St
Ninian’s in Pollokshields on the south side of Glasgow.
He was taking some children round that wonderful church and they noticed
the white light burning above the altar of the side chapel, where the
sacrament of consecrated bread and wine was kept.
Why was that light burning away there? Well, he said, it is there to remind us
that Jesus the light of the world is always with us so that, even if we came
into this big church in the dark we needn’t be afraid because Jesus is here,
Jesus is with us, the light still burns.
The poet, John Betjeman, put it like this.
And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's
hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me?
No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth
compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and
Wine.
And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas
things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,
My only quibble with Betjeman, and it’s an important quibble, is really a
theological one and I want to end with it. It’s not really that all the sweet and
silly Christmas things, or carols, or bells or even human love can’t compare
with the truth that the light of the world was human in Palestine and lives
today in bread and wine, it’s that we should allow them, in heart and mind
and spirit, to point us once again towards that single, world-changing, all-
important truth, the Light of the World. He came into the world all those
years ago, looking for us and He comes into our midst this Christmas on the
same quest, to embrace us with joy and wonder so that we may do the very
same to Him.
+Gregor
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