For me the two words ‘bauble’ and ‘tinsel’ signify beauty and excitement – and who cares if stylish folk call sparkles and coloured lights naff? I love Christmas, and even at times of great stress and sadness in my life – when peace and joy felt remote – I’ve still climbed to place the angel on top of the tree.
It’s as if the traditions, followed since childhood, can restore to me all those I love, miss and mourn. Grandparents, parents, relatives and friends, all gone, are somehow present while the same old tree decorations are released from their year in a dark box and brought into our light. Tonight, at 11pm as usual, I shall be in our village church to give thanks for it all.
The childish thrill of the lumpy stocking containing a sugar mouse, crayons, chocolate money and assorted small objects is now a distant memory. And sometimes it’s really hard to drum up the festive spirit, isn’t it? You buy too much food, stick up decorations, tick people off the present list, wonder how to stop sending cards to those you never see, and so on… and on.
Money worries spoil the sheen of shiny paper and baubles, dim the fairy lights and dampen the old anticipation of Christmas Eve. Maybe you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re so tired your heart’s simply not in it. Many reading this will recognise those thoughts, especially if sad family events or perennial loneliness make this a dark time of year, with not a fairy light in sight.
When people say they dislike Christmas for its commercialism, and loathe cheesy songs warbling lies about snow, sleigh bells and chestnuts roasting on an open fire, I get it. Sort of.
But can’t we raise the imagination above easy gripes? Christmas cards showing robins, coaches and snowy landscapes may seem from another age, but when people choose their cards, write messages and send them (down with the e-card!) they are tuning into a spirit of giving and sharing that can – and surely must – transcend the mundane. This is a precious time of gifts, visible and invisible – and that is the message of the angels.
‘I love Christmas, and even at times of great stress and sadness in my life, I’ve still climbed to place the angel on top of the tree,’ writes Bel Mooney (picture posed by models)
But what angels? The sky can seem so dark and empty it’s hard to fight despair. I read articles about ‘depressed Britain’ and understand exactly why people are frustrated or angry or fearful – or, most likely, all three at once. If British politics seems out of touch with the needs and wishes of the electorate then just check out the situation in our European neighbours, such as France and Germany. Not good.
We live in a terrifyingly uncertain world where despots rule, mass migration threatens security and prosperity, innocent people can be murdered on a beach or at a rock concert by pitiless fanatics; ‘woke’ lies insult the intelligence; protests screech; increasing misogyny threatens the welfare of girls and women; and the beauty of the natural world is always on the verge, somewhere, of destruction. And all the while social media spreads its lethal mixture of pap, polarisation and poison.
But must we let all those things – worrisome truths though they are – drown out the still, small voice of calm and of (dare to say it) hope?
Once upon a time the great poet Thomas Hardy was standing in a bleak, stormy, landscape that mirrored his own mood of dire pessimism. Suddenly he heard ‘an aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small’ flinging its defiant song into the gloom. Seeing no cause for such beauty in the bitter world all around, Hardy concluded that the solitary bird knew ‘some blessed Hope’ of which he himself was ‘unaware’.
That’s a crucial message to hold fast in your mind. Just listen out for the song of the thrush and the robin. Just because you can’t see the good doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Which returns me to the angels and their celestial music above the shepherds, in the hills outside Bethlehem and the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes.
I find it hard to put into words the emotions aroused in me by the real Christmas story. The familiar image of Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus lying in the manger, while the puzzled ox and the ass look on… that, and the angels, the shepherds and the three wise men bearing gifts, are all at the very centre of my being. I was delighted when, after church last week, a very attractive younger woman told me cheerfully, ‘You know, if I was a stick of rock the word “Christian” would be there, all through’. Yay!
I’ll raise a glass to that (probably several glasses), brimming with delight and hope. Even if, at times, the Church of England drives me crazy with its feebleness, nothing can alter the fact that Christianity is at the heart of so much that’s good in our world. You don’t have to be a churchgoer, question concepts like ‘virgin birth’ or even identify as ‘religious’ to shout that perennially good news from the roof.
Even convinced atheist Richard Dawkins has described himself as a ‘cultural Christian’. It means he recognises the awesome influence of Christianity on our value system, as well as its inestimable gifts in terms of architecture, music, art, and the countless words, phrases and ideas that permeate the literature of our Western world.
Where would we be without it? The selflessness of turning the other cheek is a moral imperative that speaks of tolerance, fairness and forgiveness. Imagine a world without Bach and his deep love of the Church, one where Beethoven’s sacred choral music and Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel never existed. Without Salisbury Cathedral’s soaring spire and Notre-Dame, newly resurrected from that fire.
The message of the angels – as seen here in a children’s nativity – is that this is a precious time of gifts, visible and invisible
This is our inheritance: the mighty Judeo-Christian civilisation – the shared ethical, moral and cultural foundations derived from both Judaism and Christianity which influence concepts such as human dignity, responsibility, justice and family. This is who we are. The sacred image of the mother and child is central. For Unto Us A Child Is Born is the very song of rejoicing heard in families every time a newborn comes into our troubled world. It’s a new start – and that’s also the promise of every single Christmas day.
Since my teenage years I have read widely, studied other religions and written and made radio programmes about them, but I only have to return to the extraordinarily tough and tolerant teachings of Jesus to know that this is the message which – if only listened to – could save humanity. Peace and love and generosity is at its glorious heart. It glitters in the branches of our Christmas tree with the wrapped gifts underneath. It is ‘the hopes and fears of all the years’ – and also the power and the glory.
That’s why I’m proud to share that hope which – in spite of everything – underpins all I do. Why the sound of Away In A Manger evokes generations of little children and Oh Come, All Ye Faithful brings tears to my eyes. This is the real spirit and meaning of this season of Christmastide – so why not take a quiet moment to celebrate its message?
