Labour has started

The time has nearly come. In a few minutes Christians in this part of the world will start their celebrations of the Birth of Christ. Yesterday I sat with expectant parents at my place of work in a Maternity Hospital. They were eagerly and nervously preparing for the arrival of their baby. There was a palpable sense of expectation and trepidation knowing that there would be both pain and joy to bring this new life to the outside world from the safety and security of the womb. Tonight Christians the world over join with Mary and Joseph as they eagerly and nervously await the birth of their baby. A baby about whom so much has been written and painted. Yet, I have yet to receive a Christmas card showing anything remotely like the large 'bellys' and the distinctive walk or even waddle (if that isn't too rude a description) I see every day amongst women about to give birth and pacing the corridor to pass the time. I have yet to receive a Christmas Card of the nativity showing an exhausted Mary and Joseph! I have yet to receive a Christmas card showing anything of the tenderness and intimacy that a couple can share at this life-changing time.

We have sanitised the reality of the birth of the one who is the supreme incarnation of what it is to be human. To do this is to rob something from the incarnation of Jesus. To deny something of the sheer wonder that God would choose to come amongst us in the messiness, the pain, the nervousness, the danger of childbirth. While his conception was extraordinary his birth was as ordinary as any other. The Pain, the contractions, the screams, the labour, the birth, the blood, the squeezing Joseph's hand, the cord, that first cry. It is probably considered heresy to contemplate that Mary might have even used an expletive to get her out of this situation...!

So tonight, lets put aside the pasty, plaster and saccharine picture of Mary and Joseph as if they were hosting a tea party. Rather let us be real, and in doing so perhaps glimpse again something of the sheer breathtaking wonder of what it is that God has done. To honour Mary and Joseph for what they went through to bring God's plan to birth. Happy Christmas! Gloria in excelsis Deo...

The last day of Advent and pregnancy: nervousness, joy and sometimes searing pain

In this last week of Advent I find it a deeply moving time to be working in a Maternity Hospital. I can sense in a way I never really did in parish ministry a deeper connection wit the reality of what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph. I see them in the faces of excited parents as they come for antenatal clinic appointments, ultrasound scans, routine check-ups etc. There is a sense of nervousness and excitement as the impending birth draws near. Hands are clasped, kisses are exchanged, impromptu cuddles and affectionate gestures are openly displayed. There are knowing and penetrating glances between lovers. Mums and dada hold stretched bellys and feel reassuring kicks and movements. Walking through the antenatal ward we can eavesdrop on the little lives of those we have not yet met face to face but whose heartbeats echo via the monitors... A sound never forgotten by parents.

As well as meeting with couples preparing for the birth of their babies, I also met with couples whose pregnancy had ended or whose baby had died before birth. There are no words to describe the heart rending pain this brings. I think of them, all of them, each of them, this evening as I get my children's Christmas presents ready. I have a profound awareness of just how privileged I am to be able to do this.

I was deeply touched during one of the funeral services for a baby that I conducted in recent days by a particular piece of music which was chosen by the little baby's parents. It was Never Say Goodbye sung by Hayley Westenra and is adapted from "Pavane". These words capture something of this loss and the searing pain of saying hello and goodbye to a baby in one breath. So as you celebrate Christmas today think too of those who would give anything to have Santa in their home this night.

The words are: (Click here to play audio)

If I could take this moment forever

Turn the pages of my mind

To another place and time

We would never say goodbye

If I could find the words I

 would speak them

Then I wouldn't be tongue-tied

When I looked into your eyes

We would never say goodbye

If I could stop the moon ever rising

Day would not become the night

Wouldn't feel this cold inside

And we'd never say goodbye

I wish that our dreams were frozen

Then our hearts would not be broken

When we let each other go...

If I could steal this moment forever

Paint a picture-perfect smile

So our story stayed alive

We would never say goodbye 

Hayley Westenra

The womb of expectation and hope

We are in the final days of Advent. The rush is on to get the final jobs done, the presents bought and the fridge stocked for Christmas. Although there is an economic recession the tills seem to be ringing.
In these last few days what are we expecting from Christmas? What are we hoping for? What is nestled in our particular personal womb that is kicking and longing to come to birth?
What is stirring deep within which we might dare to bring to birth?
We all long for things in life and dream of how things might be different. Yet there is also the painful lesson that pregnancy can teach us; that is, that all new births occur following a journey of pain.
Before the cry of new life is heard there is more-often-than-not discomfort, nervousness, excitement, hard work and pain. A certain sort of 'blood, sweat and tears'.
For me as I approach these last days of Advent I am nesting within the womb of my soul the expectation of experiencing afresh the wonder of love. Experiencing afresh the wonder of the daily miracles that surround me in the people I love and who love me. There is an economic recession at the moment. However, there is no recession in the overflowing love which flows from God and is lavished on each of us and which we are invited to lavish on others. I can feel the kicks, the preparations are almost complete: Maranatha!

Weekly Advent Reflection: Wednesdays 13:30 -13:45 in Advent

Advent Online Calendar

Thanks to the mission and ministry of Trinity Church, Wall Street, New York I have embedded an online advent calendar to stimulate thought each day in Advent...

Advent: We hate waiting

Advent is about waiting.
Waiting is not something which we are particularly good at; or at least I am not good at at any rate! When I decide on something i want it now and waiting can be very tedious.
We live in an instant culture where we like to have everything now. We want strawberries on Christmas Day, we want potatoes flown in from the Middle East to Ireland, we buy in sugar from Germany when we have sugar beet rotting in the ground? Needless to say there is nothing wrong with the products from an of these places. However, we loose something when we break the connection between the product and its source. We grew our own potatoes and peas this year and it was a sheer delight to watch them grow and to harvest them each day for dinner. Our children excitedly dug the potatoes and presented them with great pride. We had to wait, and watch and expect.
Maybe in the midst of our economic crisis there is something to be rediscovered about the value and virtue of waiting. Of having to invest in the lead-up to something rather than being able to pick it from the shelf literally or metaphorically? Can we live in the now with a sense of hope and excitement for the future rather than simply surviving on the shallow -albeit pleasurable- feeling of the quick fix of instant gratification? Advent is about waiting. It is about expectation. It is about that sense of nervous excitement about the future which we hope will be better than the present.

What are we waiting for today? And more importantly, what is there in life that is worth waiting for?

All Saints: Remembering the ordinary foot-slogging Christians

Icon for All Saints'.
Christ is enthroned in the centre surrounded by the angels and saints,
Paradise is at the bottom, with the Bosom of Abraham (left) and the Good Thief (right) holding his cross.

Today, 1 November is All Saints' Day and tomorrow is All Souls' Day. I have always had a special place in my heart for these two days. There is something about them which touches me in a personal way. For me, All Saints and All Souls is about the countless ordinary folk who have 'done their bit' so to speak in their day. People, like you and me, about whom a book will never be written or who will not be remembered for anything in particular. It is easy to remember those who have become famous or indeed infamous. However, that is not the whole story. Today and tomorrow we remember those who are well known to the world and those who were known and continue to be loved by us.

St Etchen's Church, Killucan

I was thinking of this yesterday as I sat with my family in St Etchen's Church, Killucan, Co. Westmeath. This is a very special church for us. It was where we were married and it holds the memories of many special times and some sad ones too. Four years ago the funeral of a close friend of mine took place there. I say close friend because Rob Whiteside, who was also my Father-in-law was to me someone who was first and foremost a friend. I thought of him a lot yesterday when I was back in St Etchen's and consider him amongst the great cloud of witnesses. Rob was very human and had his faults -we all do- but he was someone who incarnated for me extraordinary goodness. He had the great gift of being able to see the best in people without being naieve about reality. He was an eternal optimist, a fantastic father to my wife Heather and her siblings and an inspirational grandfather -albeit for too short a time- to his grandchildren. I think I missed him most of all for them yesterday. The stories he loved to tell them, the games he loved to play with them and so on.  Rob was someone who inspired hope and he lived it. Although he was very honest about his dying when he was diagnosed with a brain tumour aged 60, he radiated hope. During a trip to the Taizé Community in France a few months before he died, he crawled on his arms and knees to the front of the chapel during one of the prayer services to have a prayer said -not for himself- but for someone special to him. I will never forget this image: true pilgrimage. 

As we celebrate All Saints and All Souls we can feel particularly close to those whom we love but see no longer. We can more easily at this time of year dare to step outside the confining bounds of time and space to taste and experience something much bigger than ourselves.

Who are the important ones who have inspired you, encouraged you, nurtured you, loved you? Remember them today. I am remembering Rob today and indeed all those I have been privileged to care for in ministry.
They may never be remembered in history: that doesn't matter.
They are precious to God, to me and to you.