Seven short days, that’s all- then it will be Christmas. Driving through our town this evening was quite spectacular in places, with some excellent light displays. Apparently, Santa now rides a motor bike (Sorry, you’re redundant, Rudolf) and there are some polar bears in Bognor, a worrying trend! Some of the best light shows are collecting for charity, which is a great idea.
I wonder how many mince pies have been eaten this week? How many will be consumed on Christmas Day? Does anyone know, to the nearest thousand?
I also know it’s almost Christmas by the number of ads clogging my inboxes and socials. “Don’t miss out- your Christmas won’t be complete without X – and there’s a discount if you apply NOW.”
Nativity dramas and carols emerge for an annual outing: all the trappings and trimmings appear and the credit card takes a hammering. It’ll be fun, for some at least. What will ACTUALLY make Christmas complete? Not the lights, not the food, not the booze- as nice as they may be- but love. Families gather, friends get together, churches will fill up, and in some quiet moment we may think about the story behind the celebration. Because it is the story of a never-ending love reaching from God to us.
I hope we will read or hear those wonderful Bible verses about Joseph and Mary, the Baby born in Bethlehem, angels and wise men and shepherds… and let the words warm our spirits.
Was there a donkey in Christmas? Did Mary ride to Bethlehem, or waddle there in great discomfort as a nine-month pregnant mum-to-be? The journey to Bethlehem must have been an ordeal for both of them. I like to think Joseph may have hired a donkey- but Luke and Matthew don’t tell us one way or the other. In fact, there are quite a few bits in the narrative that have been added in- the oxen, the little drummer boy- but the writers of the Gospels aimed to give us the most important facts and so left out the details that we take for granted in biographies. They don’t even tell us the birth weight or eye colour of Jesus!
I hope there was a donkey for Mary to ride. And I have a whimsical thought… might that donkey be the ancestor of the donkey ridden by Jesus on Palm Sunday? I hope so, but that doesn’t matter.
What matters is this: in a small town, a baby was born- his name is Jesus. We call it Christmas, and it’s lovely- and it is only the beginning of the story of the greatest gift of Love. Don’t be an ass- make Christmas mean something real. You’ve got seven days to get ready.
"While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them." - Luke 2 v6-7
The Reflectionary 