The enduring promises of Christmas

BY KIRRALEE NICOLLE

“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere. The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst   Are full of passionate intensity.”

The excerpt from the famous poem above, The Second Coming, was written by Irish poet William Butler Yeats in the wake of World War One, unrest in Ireland and the dual Russian Revolutions of 1917. If you remember it, perhaps from school poetry classes, you know that it goes on to describe a ‘rough beast’ who ‘slouches towards Bethlehem to be born’.

It’s a bleak poem borne of a bleak time. Feel familiar?

I’m a lover of poetry. While my classmates groaned over Plath and Owen and Prufrock, I found meaning and a sense of camaraderie in the use of poetry to express feeling, politics, hope, grief.

Yeats’ sad tale of a beastly Saviour’s birth, while fictional, could easily feel true in this time. War. Famine. Ongoing pandemic. Economic struggles. Housing unaffordability. Conflict and calamity in Jesus’ country of origin. There is no room at the inn this year for not just Jesus but also almost 190,000 of his children waiting for social housing in Australia.

A traditional Christmas dinner surrounded by family is for many a far-off dream, the stuff of paintings and poems and not reality.

One of the reasons I love poetry is that it tells a story not just of the feelings of the poet, but it can also give us a snapshot of the world at that point in time. For instance, Wordsworth’s I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud marks a time when poets revelled in a feeling of connectedness to the planet, creativity and joy.

This was a kind of protest aimed toward the Enlightenment-era focus on reason, science and an increasing focus on productivity. in Nigeria, Wole Soyinka’s Telephone Conversation tells of the frustrating realities of racism in the 1960s.

Reading how suffering has been a constant throughout history can remind us that the sense of hopelessness we may be feeling is not new. Humanity has been facing war, famine, injustice and grief since the beginning of time.

As much as we can, let’s imagine this Christmas as a coming together, while the world burns around us, to feast on hope and the promise of community with Jesus.

Joy in times of crisis

Something i have been pondering this year is what joy looks like in a time of crisis. Where can we still find that satisfaction that really comes from knowing no matter what happens to you, you are loved, and your life has meaning. That you really belong.

I find again and again, I come back to Jesus.

Before he died, Jesus comforted his disciples that he was going to prepare a place for them to live forever with him. The belonging we find in Jesus is not just metaphorical or spiritual, it is real. We have an actual home with him. And all are invited.

We need more housing solutions. We need to seek justice for all. We need to ensure that wealth inequality, civilian deaths and discrimination against minority groups are all problems that are recognised and addressed with better policies and cultural shifts.

Eternity’s promise

And we do all this with a basis of hope that comes from knowing the promises God has made. He has made room for us, so we can make room for others. He has offered us mercy and grace, and so we pour that out to those around us. As much as we can, let’s imagine this Christmas as a coming together, while the world burns around us, to feast on hope and the promise of community with Jesus.

The late American writer Rachel Held Evans evoked the concept of a feast when speaking of the global church: “The church is God saying: ‘I’m throwing a banquet, and all these mismatched, messed-up people are invited … This is what God’s kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes.’”

Seeking joy this Christmas just might mean recognising our hunger, coming together and feasting on the enduring promises of God. Community, now that’s a radical antidote to hopelessness!