Vicar's letter December 2004 ...

Dear Friends

This is the month, probably more than any other, when I really do have to face up to my limitations. The things I didn’t manage to do last month go onto this month’s list. (That says something already doesn’t it!) I am still not able to achieve the impossible and be in more than one place at one time. The days seem shorter than ever and I seem more susceptible to coughs and colds than at other times of the year. Everything seems to conspire to make life more difficult. In truth, what it does is to remind me that I am human and not divine. (Remember Adam and Eve whose undoing was that they wanted to be as God is, in a way which was more than just an aspiration or an unfolding of their humanity!)

Going faster doesn’t seem to work. Illogically, in fact taking a little space seems to improve things. It’s not always possible, but if I can take time out to pray, read, swim, listen to or make music and iron, maybe there is a car or bus journey to make, have a hot bath, wrap a few presents, think about the people I am sending cards to, just be and do nothing; even for 20 minutes just seems to improve my perspective. Listening to God, to my body, sensing how current priorities are falling all seem to change my attitude and approach. With the possibility of a different perspective, I might move onto the next thing in a different way. What kind of things help you to get in touch with your spirit and be recreated?

Now as I draw the curtains I can see the moon on what will be a clear crisp night, or hear the sound of children’s voices as they sing Christmas carols expectantly, or try to wait patiently in the long queue at the supermarket or the petrol station which I hadn’t expected. I might actually look forward to going to the garden centre to choose some beautiful plants which come at this time of year, or to go carol singing and maybe raise other people’s spirits too. Can I enter into what is happening, rather than getting through my list? The party food smells good, the sounds of people laughing, the sparkle of tinsel. I might be able to recognize someone’s angry retort as a cry for help, someone’s absence or silence as the opportunity to pop in. Am I able to feel grateful for all that I have and take action to remember those who are less fortunate? Christmas in other parts of the world may be very different to ours.

This isn’t just sentiment. It enters right into the heart of Christmas in which God took on our human limitations in the form of a tiny baby. God gave up his majesty and grandeur, his distance from human kind and became like us – fragile, limited, vulnerable so that we might recognize ourselves in him and he in us. He drew near and got deeply entangled in our world, in the hope that we would share his passion and his way of involvement, making the love of God known in the process.

To feel our limitations is to share a connection with the Christchild, who became human for our sake. Let us take on his mantle this Christmas, sharing our common humanity for his sake, so that God’s love may shine in the most unexpected of places as it did on that first Christmas.

May I wish you all a happy and peaceful Christmas.

Yours in Christ,

Ruth

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