"We pause on this night of mystery, to tell the stories, to sing the songs, and to bring more light into the world." Rev. Linda Hart
The Oxen by Thomas Hardy
"Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.
We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.
So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
“Come; see the oxen kneel,
“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so."
Thomas Hardy published his poignant poem The Oxen on Christmas Eve 1915, as the First World War was devastating Europe. It refers to a folk tradition that farm animals in their barns kneeled at the stroke of midnight as Christmas Eve became Christmas Day, in reverence for the Christ child. The poem speaks of faith, doubt, nostalgia and the loss of innocence. Hardy's own personal experience of these reflected that of the wider world.
By the end of the nineteenth century, industrialisation had rendered much of the old country ways redundant. Scientific discoveries had led people to question certain aspects of the traditional Christian world view. With the crisis of the First World War, people must have felt they were living on the edge of a precipice, that the world they knew was being remade into something strange and dark and dangerous.
Perhaps we sense that we too are standing on the edge of a precipice, on the brink of something new and uncomfortably different, as conflicts across the world escalate, climate change accelerates, technology develops at a giddying rate, and AI begins remodelling our world beyond all recognition.
The writer Paul Kingsnorth, as others have before him, names the technological-cultural matrix enveloping us all as 'The Machine.' In his book Against the Machine, published earlier this year, he traces the history of Western techno-capitalism – the machine, which, he asserts, is turning us against each other, destroying the earth, and reshaping us in its image, all in the name of progress.
While there is much in the book I disagree with, I do appreciate some of his ideas on what it means to be truly human in the face of the machine. Kingsnorth suggests being truly human is rooted in four Ps: “People, place, prayer, the past. Human community, roots in nature, connection to God, memories passed down and on.”
All of these are about connection, relationship. People – our connection to one another, rooted in real human relationships. Place – our deep connection to nature, our relationship with the particular part of the earth we inhabit. Prayer – our connection to God, our relationship with the divine. The past – our connection to our heritage, our relationship with our familial, spiritual and cultural forebears.
We see these four Ps in the Gospel nativity narratives – in the real, fragile and courageous people of the Holy Family, making their way through the trials of life together; in the rootedness of the shepherds and their sheep in the land; in the angels bringing the divine and human realms together; in the community's grounding in the Jewish tradition.
In the Gospel nativity narratives we see what it is to be fully human: to be small and vulnerable, to be full of fear and trembling, to be filled with awe and wonder, to be quietly grateful, to sing and shout for joy, to take comfort in the soft breath of our fellow creatures, to be dependent on one another.
This story is so old and yet ever new. It speaks to us today as much as it did all those centuries ago, because it is about being fully human.
“Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The shepherds returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen.” Luke 2: 19 - 20, The Message translation
In the spiritual life, we need both contemplation and action. Sometimes we need to hold the mystery deep in our hearts. Sometimes we need to let loose, and to paraphrase Linda Hart, “tell stories, sing songs, bring light.”
"She will give birth to a son. You will name him Creator Sets Free (Jesus), because he will set his people free from their bad hearts and broken ways.” Matthew 1: 21, First Nations Version: An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament
Jesus is usually translated into English as “God saves.” Nothing wrong with that, but to me, "Creator Sets Free" gives it a much more expansive feeling. Creator Sets Free gives me hope. Yes, we have bad hearts and broken ways, but God sets us free by giving us, in the person of Jesus, the way to live a fully human life, in communion with God – a life of love, courage and compassion.
My Christmas prayer for you is that something in this story that is both old and ever new will touch your heart, fire your imagination and bring you hope. Amen.
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