Christmas Poems, a brief history

I am not sure yet whether there will be a new poem for Christmas 2023. There isn't yet, but if it happens in the next few days, it wouldn't be the first time I've written one before the end of the Christmas season rather than before the start. I haven't been particularly inspired to be creative recently, so there's a very good chance it might not, and although there's a little part of me that will be slightly sad if I don't come up with something, I'm also not going to beat myself up about it.

I have been writing a poem every Christmas for a long time and several pre-date this blog. If for no other reason than this is a more reliable place to keep them for my own record than my hideously disorganised documents folder on my computer / hard drive, I decided I'd put them all in a post here. Their length was, at least partially, determined by the fact that most years I shared them in Christmas cards, until the busy-ness of life and the price of stamps put paid to that tradition!

I think, despite the recent lack of inspiration, I write better poetry now than some of these early examples, but what strikes me is how the themes still resonate. The very first one I wrote, it seems, was calling for peace in Palestine. Almost 20 years on, it could have been written today. Others, similarly, address social issues which have not gone away in the intervening years. My writing has developed, global "civilisation" it seems, not so much.

 

Christmas Poem 2005 – Dreams of Peace in Bethlehem

Bethlehem, holy city, where love came down,

Once surrounded by the angel throng;

Now trapped and stifled by a concrete wall

And bullets have silenced the angelic song.

Songs of joy and peace were once so near

Now the city lives in silent fear.

But there is still a whispered song of hope

Upon this green and troubled hill,

And this is still a holy city,

Where the suffering servant suffers still.

So this Christmas spare a thought for their pain,

And pray that peace may soon come to reign.

Christmas Poem 2006 – You do it unto me

Born into homelessness and poverty,

The first things you knew were darkness and danger.

Victim of violence in an occupied territory,

Forced to grow up, an outcast and a stranger.

Where are you now, oh Christmas Christ child?

In the sanitised stable of a nativity set

Pushed to one side where the gifts are piled,

Forgotten and ignored amidst the credit card debt.

But The Christmas Christ child is still with us here on earth:

He’s here in the poor, the abused, the refugee.

Is he welcome here among us as we celebrate his birth?

For “What you do to them” he said, “you do it unto me.”

Christmas Poem 2007 – A future of hope

In a sanitized stable with a warm orange glow

Well-dressed proud parents put a baby on show.

A nativity scene with saccharine smiles

Makes it easy to hide from the real-life trials

Of that first Christmas night in the cave of a stranger

When a baby was born into darkness and danger.

And what was the message that baby came to proclaim?

A future of peace and freedom from pain.

But around the world tonight it’s like the first Christmas still

As children grow up hungry while we eat our fill.

So tonight as we celebrate a refugee’s birth.

Let’s share his message with everyone on earth.

Stand up and be counted, let our voice be heard to say

That each child deserves a future, one which starts today.

A home to be safe in, enough food and an education

And let’s make this Christmas a real celebration.

Christmas Poem 2008 – A light to the world

A flame flickers faintly in the darkness

A fragile light alive in the night

Winds of change and news of the future:

A breath, shaping this light.

I can let the wind extinguish this flame

Deny my voice and give in to doubt

Close my eyes, turn my back and be silent

And so let the flame go out.

Or I can let the wind be a challenge:

Whatever the messages it may bring

Can fan the flames of inspiration

And let my hopeful soul sing.

A breath can turn sparks to powerful flames

Can let hopes and dreams be unfurled.

Stand up, speak out and burn brightly:

I will be a light to the world.

Christmas Poem 2009 – Peace that’s an advertiser’s dream

Peace on earth was the angel’s song

And to us all goodwill

And where do we search and where do we find

This peace that’s elusive still?

Inside the golden wrapper of a chocolate bar,

Curled up by a mock-Tudor hearth.

Hidden in the pages of a holiday brochure,

Or bottled up with luxury bubble bath.

Is this what was meant by the angelic voices?

Singing for a peace that’s an advertisers dream.

Or was their vision of something deeper?

Through which a glimmer of hope might gleam.

Where is the comfort in a holiday brochure

When you’re gazing on your bombed-out house?

Not much help from chocolate or bubble bath

When you’re grieving for your children or spouse.

So what of peace in far flung places?

What of peace in war-torn lands?

What hope of a peace that’s borne of justice?

Will we reach for a stranger’s outstretched hands?

Can we talk to each other? Can resources be shared?

Can the guns be laid down and the bombing cease?

Can the whisper grow louder than the advertisers jingle?

And can our Christmas carol be a real call for peace?

Christmas Poem 2010 – Do we really want Christ in Christmas?

To put Christ back into Christmas

In the media, is an oft heard cry

They want the cute, smiley baby,

And blond-haired angels in the sky

But do they know what it is they’re wanting?

Have they thought what they’re asking for?

Who is this Christ whose Mass it is?

And what would it cost to restore?

The Christ whose return they’re requesting

I’m not sure would quite fit their bill

He wouldn’t be dressed in a respectable suit

Or tut-tut that the area’s going downhill

The Christ who’s the true Christ of Christmas

Is the one who stretches out open hands

Who welcomes the foreigner, the stranger, the poor,

With society’s outcasts he stands

He mixes with those whose lives are messy

Who don’t fit in society’s neat plan

In the midst of the unlovely, unlovable, unloved

By his life saying, “yes, with love, you can”

So let us all make the same call as they do

For Christ to return to our world

But the media might get more than they bargain for

When the true kingdom of Christ is unfurled.

And then there's all the ones since the blog started which I decided I might as well gather up here too:
https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2011/12/gift-of-christmas.html
https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2011/12/why-should-we-celebrate-christmas.html
https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2012/12/glimmers-of-hope.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2013/12/a-song-of-prophets-and-angels.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2014/12/on-2nd-day-of-christmas.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2015/12/glimmers-of-christmas.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2016/12/this-is-joy.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2017/12/the-innkeepers-song.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2018/12/christmas-poem-2018.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2019/12/christmas-poem-2019.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2020/12/where-there-is-doubt-christmas-poem-2020.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2021/12/the-light-shines-christmas-poem-2021.html

https://stepsadventures.blogspot.com/2023/01/christmas-poem-2022.html

Submission, but not submissive

This week, for the fourth Sunday of Advent, the lectionary invites us to read the story of the annunciation. Last time it came around, three years ago, I wrote a reflection. I still stand by what I wrote then, and this is, in some ways, the continuation of it.  Like all the texts we read this time of year, this is a deeply familiar one and there is probably nothing to say that has not already been said (which doesn't going to mean I'm not going to add a fair few words of my own to the conversation.)

The annunciation scene opens with the angel greeting Mary, “highly-favoured one”. I know I am not saying anything new, but I think it bears repeating that this greeting, the acknowledgment of Mary as highly-favoured, comes first. God’s blessing already exists. It is not earned. It is not consequent on her choices or actions or response. I do not believe that it would be withdrawn if Mary had said no.

And I believe this to be true for our own lives too. Whatever we are called to, and I am in no way detracting from the reality of that call, the nature of being beloved of God, of being “highly favoured” precedes and is not dependent on anything we might do in response.

And I do absolutely believe that this, the annunciation story is the story of a response, a choice: to accept or to decline the invitation, the challenge, the promise. Perhaps the God who exists out of time did already know that Mary would acquiesce, perhaps. But I don’t think that means Mary wasn’t free to make her own choice. This act of incarnation relies on Mary’s cooperation. She chose to say yes. She could have said no.

The church often focuses on the many ways in which humanity “needs” God, but perhaps speaks less about the possibility that God needs us too. But for me, the story of the annunciation, is the story of God needing, or choosing to need, humanity. The outworking of the incarnation, of God becoming present in the world in this way, is only possible with human agreement. Perhaps that too remains true today: that God can only be made incarnate in the world, again and again with the cooperation of humanity. I wonder if we shy away from this idea because deep down, however challenging we find it to get our heads round the idea of an almighty God, the idea a vulnerable one, reliant on our fragile humanity is something we struggle to get our heads round even more. And perhaps we shy away from it because deep down we are not really sure if we want to accept the responsibility that comes with it.

The other thing that I wanted to reflect on, which is perhaps in some ways related, is the image we have of Mary in this scene. I think, generally, we have a picture of a very submissive Mary, head meekly bowed as she accepts the angel’s instruction. A quick google image search would certainly suggest that’s how it has mostly been portrayed down through the ages. It is there in the lyrics of the angel Gabriel carol “Gentle Mary meekly bowed her head”, but it is not there in the biblical text.

Despite their shared root, I think there is quite a difference between submission, and being submissive. And I think that in Mary’s submission to the will of God, there is nothing that implies she is, or becomes, submissive.

I like to think instead of Mary looking straight at the angel with fire in her eyes as she accepts this mission. There aren't many artistic interpretations which show this, and I don't have the talent to draw or paint the picture in my head... but I’m not sure I believe Mary looked down at her toes. I don’t believe this was a whispered, “ok, I will,” I believe it was a much more feisty, “ok bring it on!” 

Mary doesn’t have a major starring role in the gospels, but she does have a speaking part, and she does have a voice. If we listen to that biblical voice of Mary, I think we find it is quite different to the one that has been culturally created ever since. I suspect we would do well to scrape away the layers of medieval paint and Victorian values, and to rediscover this Mary who submits but whose voice is never submissive. The Mary who dares to question God’s messenger, and who at times challenges and even defies God. The Mary who actively chooses to play her part in the incarnation story, and who does so willingly but not naively.

I wonder if we are called to this kind of submission too: a submission that is chosen, that is a shared responsibility with God and which we are allowed to approach with our heads held high. I wonder how such an invitation feels?

Staying put

Here we are in December again, ushered in with seasonally appropriate freezing temperatures and even a smattering of snow. 

Needless to say, I have as ever hardly started getting my head round Christmas yet, despite commercial Christmas having been underway for a month or more already.

I am however, reflecting with gratitude on the fact that this December, I am staying put. For both of the past two years, I have moved house in December and I am very glad not to be doing so again this year. 

It perhaps means I will have less excuse when I arrive at Christmas woefully under prepared, but nonetheless, in the midst of everything else already in the diary for the next month, I am really rather looking forward to not adding packing boxes and shifting furniture into the mix.

My gratitude is, really, about much more than just not having to face the hassle of moving again (although that is a significant plus!). It is also about having a beautiful home where I feel happy and settled. I know that having this space is an immense privilege which comes with a responsibility, and also a desire, to use it well.  

Both for me, and for others, I want my home to be a place where productivity is possible, but where there is also space to simply be. I want it to be a place of peace and refuge. I want it be a place of welcome and hospitality. I want it to be a place of friendship and love, to be a safe space which can hold both laughter and tears. 

I hope I have begun to create such a space over the past year and I am looking forward to continuing to do so in the weeks, months and years to come.