We had had made our way across Manchester from Hale Barns
with our two teenage grand-daughters to enjoy a Christmas Concert at the church.
Our daughter Kate, Sophie & Ellie’s mother, was playing cello as part of the string
ensemble in the concert. At last, we found a parking spot and, wrapping our
coats around us, walked through the drizzle and already thickening mist towards
the lighted windows of the church. We squeezed through the mass of people who stood
chatting outside the door – the Saturday evening Mass had just ended – and
stepped into the warmth and light of the already half full church (many
worshippers had stayed on after the Mass to enjoy the concert). Immediately my
glasses misted up as the warmth of the church hit them and through the misted
lenses I took in this bright and gloriously decorated church – what a sight to
lift, and indeed, warm, the spirits on such a night as this! The rich colours of
the walls, the soaring arch and ceiling above the altar, the wall paintings, - and yes, the
brightly lit Christmas trees and coloured decorations all combined to remind us
that this was a church to celebrate the Christian message but also to celebrate
the message and traditions of Christmastide. I sat in the pew looking around, all
thoughts gone of the misty drizzle and cold that lurked just a few metres away
on the other side of the richly decorated walls, and watched as the pews slowly
filled and the choir and orchestra assembled and made themselves ready for the
concert.
The concert was advertised as a “Christmas Carol Concert with Carols and Christmas music old and
new.....to sing in the Christmas season” – well, it certainly was that! But
that only tells a small part of the evening – it misses the warmth, welcome and
celebration of the whole occasion. A thoughtfully constructed programme with
some of the great Christmas carols – Once
in Royal David’s City, O Come All Ye Faithful, O Little Town of Bethlehem, Hark
the Herald Angels Sing - gave the audience plenty of scope to join in and
keep the Christmas tradition alive by giving voice (and give voice we all did!) to their mighty words, and
at the other end of the Christmas spectrum the choir - the gentlemen of the choir bedecked in tinsel, bauble decorated beards and occasional flashing lights! - entertained us with much
loved Christmas favourites: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, White
Christmas and Sleigh Ride. And in
between, beautifully sung and played Christmas music ranging from the great Glory to God chorus from Handel’s Messiah, to Ding Dong Merrily
on High and In the Bleak Midwinter
not only reminded everyone of the
Christmas season but told us, too, of the great message of Christmas. And
throughout all, the bright singing of the choir, the skilful and warm playing
of the string ensemble, trumpeter and pianist gave a sense of warmth and
togetherness that is surely also part of the Christmas message.
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| In full voice! |
The choir, under the enthusiastic baton of Katharine
Longworth were a joy not only to listen to but to watch – their eager smiling
faces, total involvement and musicality self evident. The rapport with their
conductor was a pleasure to see; they were at one with every sweep of her
arm and beat of her hand – it was one of the things that I will remember most
about the concert. The string orchestra and pianist, too, not only hit all the
right notes but hit the right sound to ensure that the choir were showed off to
their best and the music became not just a few notes played correctly but a
vibrant sound to enhance and enrich. No-one in the church could have missed the
glory that is Christmas when in the final verses of the audience carols the
trumpeter and choir gave voice to the descants – it seemed as if the very angels
depicted on the church walls were themselves singing along with us! And there
was fun and sparkle too! – the delightful rendition by the choir of the Carol of the Bells and then at the end
of Sleigh
Ride Geoff Baines, the trumpeter, gave us a wonderful horse’s neigh which made everyone
smile and applaud! But from start to
finish the haunting and exquisite voice of solo soprano Kerry Firth was an
absolute joy – perfectly in sympathy with and complementing the choir and
musicians. When her voice rang out across the silent, expectant church with the opening words of the
concert: “Once in Royal David’s city
stood a lowly cattle shed.....” she
not only set the scene for what was to follow but created an atmosphere and tone for the whole evening. When she sang, everyone in the church sat, like
me, captivated, transfixed.
For all its modern day crassness and hype – Santa, reindeer,
snowmen, pantomime, office parties, frenetic shopping malls, gluttony and
credit card excess - the basic message of the Christmas story is simple and it
is upon this simple message that the whole Christmas “baggage” rests: an
ordinary couple of two millennia ago who find themselves homeless in a strange
town and can find no refuge except a rough stable - but into that stable come
people carrying gifts and goodwill to both the couple and their new born child. This simple two thousand years old tale might be condemned as twee sentimentalism; it isn't. It is a powerful message and a warning; a modern day parable for our worrying and austere times where global super companies increasingly dictate the ethics of the day and put simple, decent values and basic humanity under threat as never before. We live today in a world where personal greed and corporate pillaging increasingly (and here I use the word carefully) [T]rumps the values of kindness, care for others or concern for the weak. In America the most powerful man on the planet, the despicable Donald Trump, has reduced health care provision to a level unthinkable in any civilised nation and at the same time has rewarded and increased the wealth of the rich (and himself) via obscene tax breaks to levels which by any standard of judgement - economic, social, ethical, political can only be paid for by massively robbing from the nation's poor; he is Robin Hood in reverse - robbing the poor to reward the rich - and in doing so has made America the most unequal society in the western world and where absolute and relative poverty is rife and living standards declining at a rate unthinkable only a few years ago. And no-one, it seems is willing or able to stop him. Only this week in our own fair land, Jeff Fairburn, the CEO of housing company Persimmon, was awarded a bonus of £110 million. This bonus was not earned by Fairburn's massive industry, intellect, worthiness or even his astounding commercial skills on behalf of his employers but quite simply leached (that is the correct word) from government grants and house buying incentives, and squandered from the small pockets of individual house owners desperate to get onto the housing ladder. Appallingly and unforgivably it was defended by Fairnburn himself who, we learned, laughed when it was suggested that he might like to donate some of it to charity. This, in a country where homelessness, economic/social division and destitution are reaching levels unseen for generations. Against this backdrop the simple story of goodwill, care and gifts for those in need - which is the backbone of the Christmas story - is needed as never before and on Saturday night at St John's, it needed no embellishment or “jazzing up” to get its timeless message across. Just the great carols of Christmas and the reading of the mighty words in St Luke's Gospel were sufficient to pass on its profound yet humbling message of Christmas to all who had ears to hear, minds to understand and hearts to take in its meaning:
“And it came to pass in those days, that there
went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.
(And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all
went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from
Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David,
which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)
To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
And so it was, that,
while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.
And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes,
and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. And
there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch
over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and
the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And
the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of
great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the
city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign
unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a
manger. And suddenly there was
with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,Glory
to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
And it came to pass,
as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to
another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to
pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and
found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen
it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this
child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them
by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her
heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the
things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them”.
A simple, but profound story: the kindness of the innkeeper,
the poverty of the couple, the circumstances of the Child’s birth and the
faith, reverence and goodwill of the shepherds; it reminds us and prods our consciences. It is the
season of goodwill to all, even to the poor and (as the carol says) the “mean
and lowly”. It is a reminder of that implicit but weighty imperative
contained in the Christmas story to do good to others - for we, too, might so easily
find ourselves in dire circumstances, in need, and reliant upon others and upon the
kindness of strangers. “There but for the
Grace of God go I” might well be the hidden sub-message of the Christmas story. Mary and Joseph are not disconnected,
mythical, comic cut figures from a long gone fictional age, they are, too, today’s tragedy – almost a
metaphor for today’s world where in our modern society dire poverty
rubs shoulders with obscene wealth, where homeless sleepers bed down in the
dark corners at the back of five star hotels, where thousands know the insecurity
that Mary and Joseph must have felt as they wandered the streets of Bethlehem looking
for shelter and a kind word, where those seeking sanctuary or a new life in our
wealthy country are too often viewed with suspicion or worse, where an increasing proportion
of the population rely upon food banks, charity organisations and like for essential
sustenance and comfort, and where increasingly those who are in need of aid or
support are too often perceived by the tabloid press and right wing media as
scroungers, cheats and victims of their own feckless nature. Had Iain Duncan Smith, Michael Gove or Jacob Rees Mogg been on the Bethlehem Town Council two millennia ago then no doubt Mary and Joseph would have been vilified in the Council Chamber and on the Bethlehem Council Website for their rashness in making such a journey at that time in Mary's pregnancy; they would have been told that they were victims of their own feckless way of life and since, by leaving the home in Nazareth, they had made themselves "intentionally homeless" they would have been advised by the Bethlehem Department for Work and Pensions that they were undeserving of any housing benefit or temporary bed and breakfast accommodation. "Imagine the stupidity", Duncan Smith would say when interviewed by the Bethlehem Daily Telegraph as he sat in the delightful living room of his country house on his estate in the Bethlehem stock broker belt "of going on a trip like that when they knew Bethlehem would be crowded. Why didn't they think to text or email ahead to book a room and reserve a table at the local Premier Inn, or to get Mary on the local GP's list or better still book her in to the local Bethlehem BUPA hospital. It's all so easy - these people can't be bothered, so they get what they deserve!" The Bethlehem Daily Mail, too, would have ramped up the venom by advising their readers that this was yet another example of migrants turning up and demanding shelter from the good, hard working folk of Bethlehem - taking all the housing stock that should be first and foremost for locals - and, "Just like all the other migrants" the Mail would cry, "these two itinerants have brought another mouth to feed with the birth of another immigrant baby - another call on the rates and hard pressed local services like health and schools". No, the story of Mary and Joseph and the bleak reality of life are not new phenomena, nor are they just facets of a long gone age; they are today’s reality and
sadly, perhaps, tomorrow’s future in our incredibly wealthy but tragically unequal and often uncaring society. Sadly, in our modern dog eat dog corporate age, where big business, a right wing media, and increasingly populist politicians seek to make society even more unequal and where a capitalist inspired consumerist society rules the hearts, minds, ethics and pockets of almost all of us we have, I believe, largely lost the capacity to feel and to do the right thing. In an age where we only ask "What does it cost?", "Does it work?", "Is it cheap or good value for money?" or "What's in it for me?" but rarely, if ever, ask questions such as "Is this fair?", "Is it decent?", "Is it just?", "Is it worthy?" then perhaps more than ever before our world needs the kindness of strangers and the lessons and hope that the Christmas story brings.
And so with the last chords of “Hark the Herald Angels” ringing
in our ears we pulled our coats around us to make our way out of St John’s and out
into Manchester’s bleak midwinter night. The warm temperatures of the Church’s
central heating had been welcome but even more important and memorable to me
was the inner warmth provided by the joy and sincerity of the gathering, the welcome we received and the simple kindness of this
occasion. We had come to St John’s as strangers – travellers from far distant
Nottingham – but the occasion and the smiling faces made us feel welcome and a
part, albeit for a short time, of this little community and little celebration.
Outside the freezing, drizzling mists had descended and
looking back through the dark and the fog, the lighted windows of the church
looked to me like welcoming beacons in the cold night air – perhaps as the dimly
lit stable must have looked to Mary and Joseph – a place of sanctuary and
security on such a night as this. And as I started the car engine, hoping for some
warmth to clear the misted windows I thought of how we had
come to be here on such an uncharitable night when it would have been so much easier to
stay indoors by the warmth of the fire. As we made ready to leave, buckled our seat belts, checked our mobiles and all the other minutia of everyday modern life I punched into the sat-nav the postal code for my daughter's home in Hale Barns. And as I did so and the wipers began to clear the mist and drizzle
from the windscreen, a few words from a much loved poem flashed across my mind:
“wicked weather for walking.......the
storm beat on the windows.... the gale blew off the marshes.....” Those words from one of the great Christmas
poems (and a personal favourite) – Rudyard Kipling’s “Eddi's Service AD
687” seem to me to capture the very essence of the Christmas story and indeed
of the evening that we had just enjoyed where the simple but wonderful tale of
Christmas and had been retold in words and music:
Eddi’s Service AD 687
Eddi, priest of St. Wilfrid
In his chapel at Manhood End,
Ordered a midnight service
For such as cared to attend.
Ordered a midnight service
For such as cared to attend.
But the Saxons were keeping Christmas,
And the night was stormy as well.
Nobody came to service,
Though Eddi rang the bell.
"'Wicked weather for walking,"
Said Eddi of Manhood End.
"But I must go on with the service
For such as care to attend."
The altar-lamps were lighted, --
An old marsh-donkey came,
Bold as a guest invited,
And stared at the guttering flame.
The storm beat on at the windows,
The water splashed on the floor,
And a wet, yoke-weary bullock
Pushed in through the open door.
"How do I know what is greatest,
How do I know what is least?
That is My Father's business,"
Said Eddi, Wilfrid's priest.
"But -- three are gathered together --
Listen to me and attend.
I bring good news, my brethren!"
Said Eddi of Manhood End.
And he told the Ox of a Manger
And a Stall in Bethlehem,
And he spoke to the Ass of a Rider,
That rode to Jerusalem.
They steamed and dripped in the chancel,
They listened and never stirred,
While, just as though they were Bishops,
Eddi preached them The World,
Till the gale blew off on the marshes
And the windows showed the day,
And the Ox and the Ass together
Wheeled and clattered away.
And when the Saxons mocked him,
Said Eddi of Manhood End,
"I dare not shut His chapel
On such as care to attend."
And the night was stormy as well.
Nobody came to service,
Though Eddi rang the bell.
"'Wicked weather for walking,"
Said Eddi of Manhood End.
"But I must go on with the service
For such as care to attend."
The altar-lamps were lighted, --
An old marsh-donkey came,
Bold as a guest invited,
And stared at the guttering flame.
The storm beat on at the windows,
The water splashed on the floor,
And a wet, yoke-weary bullock
Pushed in through the open door.
"How do I know what is greatest,
How do I know what is least?
That is My Father's business,"
Said Eddi, Wilfrid's priest.
"But -- three are gathered together --
Listen to me and attend.
I bring good news, my brethren!"
Said Eddi of Manhood End.
And he told the Ox of a Manger
And a Stall in Bethlehem,
And he spoke to the Ass of a Rider,
That rode to Jerusalem.
They steamed and dripped in the chancel,
They listened and never stirred,
While, just as though they were Bishops,
Eddi preached them The World,
Till the gale blew off on the marshes
And the windows showed the day,
And the Ox and the Ass together
Wheeled and clattered away.
And when the Saxons mocked him,
Said Eddi of Manhood End,
"I dare not shut His chapel
On such as care to attend."
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The early 17th century depiction of the stable scene
and the adoration of the Shepherds by Guido Reni
|
Thank you to all at St John’s, Chorlton-cum Hardy, for a
lovely and memorable evening.
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