The candles and the fire sparkle in the dim light of the simple home.
The visitors from far away have come and gone. The presents are opened and already forgotten; the child is playing with the boxes they came in.
The child is young and probably won’t remember the presents, anyway, especially after his family takes flight in their desperate need and leaves that simple home behind.
The British poet and priest Malcolm Guite writes:
Refugee
We think of him as safe beneath the steeple,
Or cosy in a crib beside the font
But he is with a million displaced people
on the long road of weariness and want.
For even as we sing our final carol
His family is up and on that road,
Fleeing the wrath of someone else’s quarrel,
Glancing behind and shouldering their load.
Whilst Herod rages still from his dark tower
Christ clings to Mary, fingers tightly curled,
The lambs are slaughtered by the men of power,
And death squads spread their curse across the world.
But every Herod dies, and comes alone
To stand before the Lamb upon the throne.
As we stood at the beginning of this service, we prayed:
O God, who wonderfully created and yet more wonderfully restored, the dignity of human nature: Grant that we may share the divine life of him who humbled himself to share our humanity, your Son Jesus Christ … (BCP 214)
On this Second Sunday after Christmas, the Christ Child inspires us to reflect on the dignity of human nature.
First, we must listen to our prayer and its wisdom that God “wonderfully created … the dignity of human nature.” That is our starting point. God created all that is, including us, and it is good.
But we also know that sin quickly entered the picture, and that human history has often been undignified, to say the very least.
Our dignity can be obscured by our circumstances:
By poverty
By racial prejudice
By sickness
By war – making refugees out of people fleeing from the threat of death
And our dignity can be disfigured by our selves:
By greed
By fear
By anger
By cruelty – like the murderous arrogance of Herod and any who lash out at others
But our dignity can also be restored by our creator’s life-giving Spirit:
By our wonder at the stars and at human learning
By our faithfulness to God’s leading
By our foresight to protect those whom we love
By our willingness to travel far from home and face risks
Another British poet, George Szirtes, was himself a refugee from Hungary at the age of eight.
His haunting poem called “The Flight” was set to music as a commission for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols at King’s College, Cambridge this year.
The sea is a graveyard
the beach is dry bones
the child at the station
is pelted with stones
the cop stands impassive
the ambulance drones
Its dissonant chords like wailing sirens made it hard to breathe as I listened last week:
We move on for ever
our feet leave no mark
you won’t hear our voices
once we’re in the dark
but here is our fire
this child is our spark.
This child is our spark.
This child whose very life restores the dignity of human nature.
This child who humbles himself to share our humanity, his own dignity obscured by poverty and war, by arrest and execution, but never disfigured by himself.
This child who through his death and resurrection, and the sharing of his Spirit, invites us to share in his divine life … this child is our spark.
We think of him as safe beneath the steeple,
Or cosy in a crib beside the font
But he is with a million displaced people
on the long road of weariness and want.
For even as we sing our final carol
His family is up and on that road …
If this child’s spark – if this Christ Child’s spark – is to burst into flame, then it is up to us to work against all that obscures and disfigures the dignity of human nature – by combating poverty, standing against war, facing up to racial prejudice, exposing greed, and abstaining from cruelty.
If this child’s spark – if this Christ Child’s spark – is to burst into flame, then it is up to us to participate with the creator’s life-giving Spirit in restoring the dignity of human nature – by our willingness and wonder, by our faith and foresight, by our humility in the face of the oppressed, and by our presence wherever humans still suffer.
That presence sparkles in dim light and desperate need.
That presence is not lightly forgotten or tossed aside.
That presence is in fact the Christ Child making his home with his people.
Here is our fire. This child is our spark. Amen.
Daily Office Anchor Society 