Living Nativity

Because the Holy Trinity Church in Greenfield is closed for building works, we had a choice this year to do nothing, or to take the opportunity to do something different to mark Christmas in the community.

We wanted to give the community the opportunity to be part of the story, rather than just listening to it or sitting through a service done for them by others.  Everyone had a part to play in our Living Nativity and it included the whole community because we walked the streets of the village telling the story.  As well as traditional readings and carols we heard from the not-so-wise ‘wise man’ shopping for the baby Jesus, we heard the tale of the farmer, irate that the shepherd would leave his sheep and go into town, we heard from the ‘village gossips’ about Mary and Joseph running away together because of the ‘illegitimate’ child.  The story, as well as Jesus, was brought down to earth this Christmas in Greenfield.

Over seventy people turned out onto the streets of Greenfield this year, many of them not regular church goes, proof that in our largely individual lives, people are crying out for events such as this where they can gather together as community, not for church necessarily, but to celebrate and join together.  I think it is essential to do something together like this which builds better community and is food for the soul and for our society.

I believe the event showed that Christmas is not just about presents, tinsel and turkey, or even about going to church once a year, but about something which is shared out amongst the community.  There was no Mary or Joseph in our stable, hastily constructed out of straw, at the back of the Packet House, because we were all playing those roles.  There was no Jesus in the manger, because this year, Jesus was born into the manger of our hearts where, hopefully, he will be cradled and nurtured.

Various news clips from the event…  From 1:53

Ac yn Gymraeg!  From 1:28


Avoiding the obvious this month of course, a new book on the shelf, Jerry Doherty on ‘A celtic model of ministry’ might be useful in the new parish when things get going – on that note we are slowly ‘house organising’  I’m certainly looking forward to the apples from the garden, it has a lovely old apple tree!  Well OK just a little on the obvious then, on the 23rd we are walking around the village in Greenfield telling the old stories in the midst of the community – well the church is closed so we had to do something different! Hopefully there will be a donkey (for no other reason than they attract attention 😉 ) and perhaps the ‘inn keeper’ will tell us there is no room, we might even have a ‘stable’ at the back!!  Hopefully there will be room at the inn later on, as we are going there for refreshments…

Life, Death and Neighbours

Magazine letter for October: A time when we are in the midst of the refurbishment of a church…

Life, Death and Neighbours.

That is I think, a pretty good description of humanity.  We live our life, always aware that it has a beginning and an end.  The art of living a life so fulfilled that at the end of it one can greet ones own death as a life-long companion and happily go on to the next world is a lifelong achievement, one which, I fear, few of us will master.  The description, Life, Death and Neighbours comes, not from a city centre community where everyone lives on top of each other, nor from a small rural community where everyone’s business is known to everyone else.  It comes, rather, from a community where the majority of contact with the outside world is shunned.  A place where people have sought solitude and actively moved away from what we might see as normal human interactions with neighbours.  It comes out of the Desert and derives from a saying by Anthony the Great who is known as the father of modern monasticism.

Our life and our death is with our neighbour.  If we win our brother, [or sister!!] we win God.  If we cause our brother [or sister!!] to stumble, we have sinned against Christ.

Those early pioneers of monasticism in the Egyptian desert and mountains were, perhaps ironically, not looking to flee the contact of others in the way you might expect someone to shut themselves away from the world because they cannot cope with it.  Instead the move into the desert was to find out what church was all about.  They were not convinced that the ordinary churches of their day were a fair representation of what it would be life to be a true follower of Christ and be truly in touch with ones God.

The harsh message of the desert is that in order for us to become true followers of Christ and to be able to dwell in the realm of God, (you might want to call this having a ‘spiritual life’) this wont happen unless we mend our relationships with our brothers and sisters, our neighbours and then sustain them.

I write of this because it is happening in our midst.  The church building in Greenfield is being renovated and the people are in a wilderness of sorts.  Instead of being a time for gloom and despondency, it is a time to heal the wounds between one another, for the people’s relationships to be ‘renovated’ as well.  A time to come closer together as a prayerful group and to look closely at what binds us together and what drives us apart.  It is about winning the neighbour as St. Anthony writes, however this doesn’t mean converting them by beating them about the brow.  It is rather about careful attention to their needs.  We must pay careful attention to the needs of all in our communities, to invite them in gently aware of each others brokenness and willing to grow together.  Only then will the church building be ready to receive us back and only then will we be ready to return to it renewed refreshed for the next stage of our journey.

(With material from the chapter ‘Life, Death and Neighbours’ in ‘Silence and Honey Cakes’ by Rowan Williams)