Power of the Helpless God (Christmas)

THE POWER OF THE HELPLESS GOD

Well, here we are again to commence our celebration of Christmas.

The rush of recent weeks is at an end. The presents have been bought, the cards sent, the shopping completed and the Christmas tree decorated.

For some of you, this annual celebration will run its usual course with the same familiar faces around to share its joy, whilst for others it will be different because some of those faces will be missing, and so there will be a touch of sadness amidst the joy.

And of course, there is always the inevitable degree of anxiety lurking in the wings. Have I forgotten anything? Have I forgotten anybody? And of course, will there be enough money to pay off my 'flexible friend' next month?

However, for the present, all we can do now is sit back, relax and let our celebration of Christmas run its course.

And as a start to that celebration, you have decided to come to church.

But why?

In a rather amusing, yet cynical article in last weekend's "Sunday Telegraph", an anonymous journalist sought to answer that question under the heading "Christmas Christians''.

I quote "Mr. Christian is dressed in his Barbour over a prince of Wales-check sports jacket and lambs wool jersey. The chestnut-coloured corduroys over his large bottom slide over the wooden edge of the pew as he sits forward, shielding his eyes with one hand in a conventional posture of prayer".

"Mrs Christian wears a string of pearls visible around the high neck of her pullover above a warm country overcoat".

The journalist suggests that, "Christmas Christians are more orthodox in their beliefs and more conservative in their liturgical tastes than regulars". Hence they are likely to be also more vocal about any changes they are obliged to encounter.

"But", says the journalist "they do not ask themselves exactly why they go to church on Christmas morn.

"Naturally it goes with good middle class Christmas conventions. Their parents went to church of course, but then they went to church every Sunday. And the warm feeling that comes from going to Midnight Mass is not brought on by the assuaging of a guilty conscience. After all, they have no conscience about not going to church throughout the rest of the year".

"Christmas church is, for Mr. and Mrs. Christian, like the Queen's speech as it used to be, a ritual, slightly theatrical, undemanding and moral in parts".

The author concludes: "To them, church is just part of Christmas, like dressing the tree or stirring the pudding".

Whilst there may be some degree of truth in this caricature, I would suggest that there is something much deeper which draws us to church at Christmas, and although we often find it difficult to put into words, without church Christmas would feel somewhat incomplete.

I believe that it is the sense of helplessness to which we respond, as symbolised by the babe at Bethlehem. It is this which claims our attention, draws us here and evokes from us our love, our wonder and our worship this Christmas.

The producers of Coronation Street last weekend certainly recognised the magnetic power of a helpless infant when they devoted a whole hour to the tussle between the childless couple, Gary and Judy, who had bought a baby for 2,000 pounds, and its inadequate mother Zoe, who now wanted her child back.

In a similar way, the producers of Eastenders have been focusing attention upon the young entrepreneur Ian, and his estranged wife, Cindy, in their fight for custody of their three children who are helplessly caught up in the domestic dispute. And even in Emmerdale, baby James Tate has gone missing.

There is no doubt, that in the battle for the viewing figures, the TV producers of these soaps are playing the helpless infant card this Christmas time.

And it is not just TV producers who seek to cash in on the sense of helplessness in order to tug at the heart strings at Christmas time.

My current junk mail is full of appeals from various charities seeking to provide shelter for the homeless; food for the hungry and relief for those suffering.

Thus we find ourselves drawn here by the helplessness of a child as we commence our celebration of Christmas. A child who reveals God in human form.

But that is not all. That symbol of helplessness is a paradox insofar as it is also a symbol of power, whereby its perceived weakness is also its strength.

On the one hand we see a God, who chooses to reveal himself as a helpless infant, utterly dependent upon Mary and Joseph to provide food and shelter, as he was also equally helpless when later he was nailed upon a cross, and dependent upon a Roman soldier to quench his thirst and a Jewish aristocrat to provide shelter for his dead body.

Yet at the same time, we see a God who through his weakness also reveals his power. A power which not only encouraged men and women to give up their livelihood and follow him, but also healed the sick, enabled the lame to walk and the blind to see.

This is the paradox of the God whom we see revealed in human form as an infant at Bethlehem.

No wonder Sheila Cassidy describes this paradoxical image as "God in a wheelchair".

And I know all about wheelchairs, having pushed my late wife around in one for eight months prior to her

death. I know all about how helpless she was and how totally dependent she became upon me. But I also know about the power of that person in the wheelchair. How she made me much more sensitive and caring; compassionate and understanding, and above all, believe it or not, patient. She evoked from me a depth of love I never knew

existed, and enabled me to discover an ability for domesticity and thereby prepare me for a future without her.

In a similar way, the helplessness of God, as revealed in the infant at Bethlehem, not only draws us to him but also empowers us for our life of discipleship.

In our wanting to come to church this Christmas, we are responding to the power of God revealed through weakness at Bethlehem.

It is he who draws us to himself. It is he who evokes from us our love, our wonder and our worship this Christmas.

Whether we also allow him to change us, as a result of our encounter at Bethlehem is up to you and me. We can either allow ourselves to be like the shepherds, the wise men, and the many others, who have met him in subsequent years, whose lives have become changed or we can be like Christmas Christians and allow this experience to be no

different from that of "dressing the tree or stirring the pudding".

The choice is ours.