to be read at all Masses on Sunday 1 January 2006
Dear people of the diocese,
I hope that you're enjoying Christmas. I say 'enjoying' because of course as a Christian festival it continues until next Friday, the Epiphany. For most people, however, it seems that Christmas is regarded as one day only, a day marked by a large meal and the exchange of presents. Some of you probably went out to eat on Christmas Day, down to the local pub. It seems to be a growing fashion, eating out on Christmas Day. There's probably a lot to commend it, no preparation and no washing up. But fairly recently, it wouldn't really have been possible. It's only within living memory that many pubs started serving food, and the 1964 Licensing Act allowed pubs to open on Christmas Day only between 12 o'clock and three, and then between seven and ten thirty. That Act didn't allow any pub to open before 11 o'clock in the morning and they all had to shut at eleven at night (or ten thirty on Sundays and Good Friday).
The whole debate about licensing hours was opened up again before Christmas when the Government introduced 24-hour opening in places. So, instead of sitting there patiently listening to this (or not) you could probably be drinking somewhere, away from the comfort of your own homes.
We live in a paradoxical society. We have one of the highest prison populations in Europe for our size (seventy five thousand people in prison) and we acknowledge that the majority of the crime that is committed is related to alcohol or drugs. But of course the Government promised new legislation to prevent disturbances in the streets as a result of longer drinking hours. And then there was another report at the end of November that the Home Office is proposing a softer line on drugs, to allow the possession of 7 grammes of heroin or crack cocaine or four ounces of cannabis (i.e. enough for about 500 'joints'), all as long as it's for personal use. I don't know why one is measured in grammes and the other in ounces. I don't suppose the users notice or care.
It is odd that we appear to be going soft on drugs and alcohol, the two things that contribute most to crime.
And then about the same time a story appeared about the USA using British and other European airports to shuffle terrorist suspects round the world. I am writing this well before Christmas, but I suspect that the story will still be running as you listen. Again it raised all sorts of questions about the ambiguous state of our world. Many were saying that anything was legitimate in the pursuit of terrorists, even torture. Others were saying that the so-called 'war on terror' was precisely to defend true democratic principles like the right to a fair trial and the rule of law.
At the same time, too, the Government seems to have back-pedalled somewhat on its commitment to the reduction of carbon emissions - our burning of coal, for example, has increased recently, rather than diminished.
But global warming, it seems might actually make this country cooler if the Gulf Stream is diverted by melting ice caps. Very confusing. All this reminds us that we live not only in a very ambiguous world, full of conflicting values, but in a very fragile world, all so carefully balanced.
Today's feast of Mary the Mother of God is a feast that reminds us of fragility. The angel was sent to an unknown young girl living in an equally unknown village - Luke has to tell us that Nazareth was in Galilee. The meeting was not altogether positive at first: Mary was 'disturbed by these words' and suggests to the angel that the idea might be difficult. Nonetheless, with the angel's reassurances, Mary accepts God's will, whatever it may mean for her.
Then, Luke tells us, the couple set out for Joseph's home town of Bethlehem, far to the south of Galilee, to take part in the census that the Roman Governor had called. And at this time, the gospel says, Mary was pregnant. Those of you who have been to the Holy Land might be able to appreciate what a difficult journey that would be for a young pregnant woman. And to make matters even more difficult, the time for the birth came while there were there, and all they could find for the birth itself was a thing that animals ate hay out of. None of this suggests that this was the safest way for the Son of God to be born into this world.
And in today's gospel, the news of the birth is first given to the shepherds in the fields. There is nothing that I can find in the Old or New Testaments that indicates that shepherds were well known as the most reliable people to pass on important news.
Fragility is a blessed state to be in. It means 'able to be broken', like delicate porcelain or fine glass. Our own fragility reminds us first of our dependence on God, and on one another, rather than just ourselves. And that brings with it a certain humility.
The opposite of fragility is strength and power, and that can easily bring with it arrogance and pride. Arrogance means that I don't have to listen and don't have to depend on anybody else. It means that I can ride rough-shod over people and their principles.
It wasn't the way that God chose to come into the world. He slipped in almost unnoticed, through a fragile, anonymous young girl. Today we celebrate the beauty of what that mystery teaches us, and how it can reassure us in our own personal fragility and in the fragility of the world we live in, and the world that God chose to come and inhabit, too.
With my prayers and best wishes to you for a happy year to come.
Rt. Rev. Kieran Conry
Bishop of Arundel and Brighton
