The Word became Flesh

Christmas Day, 25 December 2016
Preacher: The Very Rev’d Frank Nelson, Dean of St Peter’s Cathedral
Readings: Isaiah 52: 7 – 10, John 1: 1 – 14

And the Word became flesh and lived among us,
and we have seen his glory,
the glory of a father’s only son,
full of grace and truth. John 1: 14

Christmas celebrations begin early at St Peter’s Cathedral. Just as we light the first Advent Candle and begin the four Sunday count-down to Christmas, we begin our season of school carol services. Nearly every morning over a two week period a different school arrives. Full hands carry in music stands, speakers and banners, to be followed shortly by excited students clutching water bottles and increasingly frazzled music and other teachers, class lists and instructions for the day in hand. A long day of rehearsal to get everything just right and then, finally, the evening when the Cathedral fills with proud parents and grandparents. The Christmas story is told again. As is the custom with a carol service, the final reading is the Prologue to John’s Gospel and includes these words:

And the Word became flesh and lived among us,
and we have seen his glory,
the glory of a father’s only son,
full of grace and truth. John 1: 14

So it is that the life of the Cathedral continues as best it can, slowly working our way through those magnificent readings of hope and forward-lookingness from Isaiah, and the disturbing passages known as Apocalyptic found in the Gospels. And all the while the Cathedral doors remains open, rather like open hands – offering a welcome embrace to all who enter its doors; a quiet place for the harried and hassled, the worried and the overburdened; a sacred space for those who seek to light a candle, pray a prayer or simply sit, hands open to God’s love, in the presence of God – for a moment away from the excitement, the bustle, and the ever more frantic jostling and coercing of over-caffeinated advertisers.

It is here too that prayers are offered daily for God’s Church throughout the world, and for the world in which God’s Church finds itself and must live and move and have its being. In recent weeks we have prayed for God’s guidance on the election of a new Archbishop and rejoiced with thanksgiving as our Diocese came together to elect Geoff Smith. We have prayed for those who were ordained to be deacons and priests in God’s Church, and for the many different faces of the church reflected in these new ministries. Their hands will be Christ’s hands in the communities they serve.

Daily we pray for this city and state and for leaders local, national and international. We pray for that peace which seems as elusive as ever – the peace on earth the angels in the Christmas story and in our carols sang about. We pray for the people with bleeding hands, the people of Aleppo and the other cities and villages of Syria, torn apart by the terrible civil war, with the backing of the super powers adding to the tragedy, and remember that there has been a Christian presence and voice in many of those places for nearly two millennia. We pray for those places and parts of the word which flash across our television screens and pop up in news feeds which speak of war and natural disaster, turmoil in the unexpected turns of politics, and remember the real people behind the stories and images. And time after time we are drawn back to John’s words:

And the Word became flesh and lived among us,
and we have seen his glory,
the glory of a father’s only son,
full of grace and truth. John 1: 14

Last Sunday night we gathered here in St Peter’s Cathedral to observe a Blue Christmas – one in which we acknowledged that not everyone is able to celebrate with family and friends. For many Christmas is a lonely and depressing time, when hands are empty, joy is lacking and the carolling of others simply rubs in the loneliness. If they are lucky there are some happy memories but for all too many people Christmas brings back the horror of illness, homelessness, betrayal and abuse or even death. And we discovered that St John’s words in the Prologue speak to us all, inviting us into the mystery of the Incarnation and that mystical verse 14 of John chapter 1, so rich in meaning and full of invitation:

And the Word became flesh and lived among us,
and we have seen his glory,
the glory of a father’s only son,
full of grace and truth. John 1: 14

Last Friday hands were busy polishing, cleaning, setting out of chairs, sorting music and arranging beautiful flowers as the Cathedral was prepared and made ready for the estimated 3000 people who, by lunch time today, will have flocked through its doors in less than 24 hours. And you are one of them. You too are invited to join in wonder as we hear again John’s Prologue, sing again the carols so familiar and so evocative, as we greet each other and come forward to receive the blessing of the Word made Flesh, making a throne, or perhaps a manger, out of our hands as they reach up to receive the bread, the Body of Christ, and take the chalice to drink the wine, the Blood of Christ.

Before we go out from this service to celebrate Christmas Day, take a moment to ask yourself what impact the day, and especially the words of St John, might have on your life. Will you allow the one we call the Word, Jesus Christ, whose birth we mark today, to become flesh and live among us, in your life and that of your family and circle of friends? Will you fashion and shape your life, following him who called us, one and all, to love in a way never before seen? Will you let your hands be Christ’s hands and so continue Christ’s work?

About 80 years ago an Anglican priest, Frank Houghton, set off on a perilous journey through Szechwan province in China. He was a missionary with the China Inland Mission and was deeply concerned for his fellow missionaries, many of whom were being arrested by the insurgent communists, some even being executed. Somewhere on the journey he penned the words of our next hymn which continues to be sung at Christmas time. For me, the words encapsulate something of the Word become flesh, the One who lived among us, whose birth in a stable we celebrate today.

Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,
All for love’s sake becamest poor;
Thrones for a manger didst surrender,
Sapphire-paved courts for stable floor.
Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,
All for love’s sake becamest poor.

It is a beautiful hymn and I invite you to stand and sing it with me now.