Month: December 2024

As Christmas draws near I am reminded of a story a friend told me last spring about the events that occurred the previous Christmas in the village where he lives on the other side of Bredon Hill. We met again this autumn and he repeated it. This is the story that he shared.

There was a young girl in the village, probable a little over nine years old who in the September had asked her mother a question she couldn’t answer. The girl had said ‘Mummy it will soon be Christmas, which is Jesus’ birthday isn’t it?’

“Yes’ her mother replied.

“Well how old is he now? He must be older than me. And where is he, as I’d like to make him a present.”

The mother couldn’t answer her daughter’s question so she suggested that she go and speak with the friendly woman who looked after the church in the village and ask her.

The woman invited her in, gave her a glass of lemonade and a piece of cake, and then asked how she could help her. The girl repeated her question. “How old will Jesus be on his birthday and where is he now as I’d like to make him a present?”

The woman didn’t know the answer to that any more than the girl’s mother did, so she suggested that the girl come to the service in church in three weeks time when the lady priest would be taking the service as she would be bound to be able to answer her question.

Three weeks later the girl went to the church and when the service was over asked her question to the lady priest: “How old will Jesus be on his birthday and where is he now as I’d like to make him a present?”

But the lady priest didn’t know the answer either. “I’ve got a book back at the vicarage which will tell me,” she said, “and if it doesn’t then I’ll ask the Archdeacon who is sure to know.” She wrote the girl’s name & address in her diary.

The girl waited, and waited, but she heard nothing. For the lady priest was a very busy woman. “Mummy what can I do,” she asked her mother, “nobody seems to know the answer to my question?” Her mother was at her wits end and thought hard. “Well” she said “you might try asking Ali, she’s lived in this village for pretty much all her life and knows all sorts of things that other people don’t, why not go and ask her?”

The girl agreed that she’d try, for what else could she do? Ali was a warm, kind, wise woman whom the girl knew & liked. She too invited the girl in and served her lemonade and a piece of cake before asking how she could help her. The girl asked the question that was puzzling her and that nobody seemed able to answer. “How old will Jesus be on his birthday and where is he now as I’d like to make him a present?” 

Ali didn’t know the answer either, “but wait a minute” she said, “I remember” something that my old Dad used to say. He used to say that if I ever had a question that I couldn’t answer, or a problem that I couldn’t solve, then I should go and ask the Old Man of Bredon Hill. Perhaps we could go and try that. Maybe he’ll know.”

“It’s a long walk up the Hill” said the girl, “does he live up there, and how would we find him?”

If I remember my Dad right” said Ali “we’d have to climb the hill to a small dell along the ridge, and you would have to walk around the dell three times anticlockwise saying ‘Old man of the hill, I have a question, please come and tell.’ And we’d have to do it at either midday or midnight.”

My Mum wouldn’t let me go up the Hill at midnight, said the girl.” “No” said Ali, “but she might let you go at midday, if I came with you and brought my dog Leo. Why don’t you ask her? The girl did, and her mother said “Yes’ if Ali and her dog Leo are going as well.

So one Sunday morning, early in December the two of them set out, with Leo the dog, and a pack lunch in a bag, and climbed the Hill. They were tired when they got to the top, but they had plenty of time and sat and ate their lunch before walking along the ridge in search of the dell that Ali’s father had spoken about. They would have missed it, as it was almost hidden by some trees, but for Leo who had disappeared amongst the trees following his nose in pursuit of an attractive smell. Having found it they sat down on the rim of the dell and waited for Ali’s watch to tell them that it as midday.

At exactly midday the girl went down and began to walk anti-clockwise around the dell saying out loud the words that Ali had told her, ‘Old Man of the Hill, I have a question, please come and tell”.

As she completed her third turn, there was puff of smoke in front of her and an old man, dressed in a dark old coat & trousers, with big boots & a battered old hat, appeared. He looked at her and said, rather grumpily “Why have you disturbed me from my sleep, I was just getting nicely settled?” 

“Well” she said “I have a question that nobody seems to be able to answer, and Ali says that her Dad said you might be the only person who could.”

“Oh!  What’s your name? Where do you live? What is your question?’  She told him her name and the name of her village and asked him her question: “How old will Jesus be on his birthday and where is he now as I’d like to make him a present?”

The Old Man was silent. “You’ve asked a very difficult question” he said” and I’ll have to think about it.” He sat down on the grass, took out an old pipe, filled it with tobacco, lit & smoked it, closed his eyes and was silent again.

After what seemed like a very long time, he opened his eyes, stood up and said “Well I have some good news and some less good news for you.”  “Oh” she replied “and what’s the good news?’ 

“The good news is that Jesus is alive and that he’s living in your village.” The young girl was very excited indeed to hear that, “that’s wonderful news” she exclaimed “but where does he live in my village?”  “Ah, that’s the less good news, because I don’t know” said the old man “and what’s more I don’t know if Jesus is a man or a woman, not do I know how old he is, indeed he might be a child like you or even a newborn baby.” 

“Oh dear, but how shall I find out” she asked.

“Hmm” and he re-lit his pipe and closed his eyes. There was another long silence. “What I suggest that you do is this” he said at last. “There’s a woman, a Mrs Talkative, who lives in your village isn’t there?’  “Oh yes,” she replied “my mum says that she’s a terrible gossip and that I must never tell her anything”.

“Well this time I think that you might” he said. “I suggest that when you get home, go and see her. Tell her that you’ve been to talk to me and that I told you that Jesus is alive and living in your village but that I didn’t know who he might be, a woman or a man, or even a child.” 

“Oh” she said “but how will that help me?”

“Maybe it wont” he said “or maybe it will” and with that he disappeared in another puff of smoke.

Ali had been listening to all this but hadn’t heard it all. So when they made their way back home the girl told her what the old man had said. “Fancy Jesus living in our village” said Ali “do you believe what the old man said to you?’

“I don’t know, but I think that I just have to trust him”

Ali and Leo went home and the young girl also went home but she stopped at Mrs Talkative’s house on the way and told her what the old man had told her. Mrs Talkative seemed very interested.

The old man was at least right in one thing because by breakfast the following morning everybody in the village knew where the young girl had been and what the old man had told her. Some people knew that it was nonsense, others thought there might be something in it, but everybody began to ask themselves, if it were true, then who might be Jesus? The young bearded man who wore sandals in the summer? Or the lady who looked after the church? Could it be whoever came to take the service at the church on Xmas Day? Might it be one of the foreign workers at the farm? Or one of the people who ran ‘Cuppa Chat’? It might even be one of the innkeepers children?  Nobody could be sure. A few people even began to wonder if they might be Jesus, and if so what they should be saying and doing?

“The truly astonishing thing,” said my friend, “is that the atmosphere in the village changed almost overnight. Everybody, including those who continued to think that this was all nonsense, started to do their best to act a bit like Jesus, just to be on the safe side, while at the same time everybody began to treat everybody else as if they might be Jesus. Everybody started being very kind and considerate to everybody else. The rich people began to go out of their way to take generous gifts to the poor ones; anybody who was ill or looked lonely was being visited & cared for by more people than they might have wanted; neighbours who hadn’t spoken a civil word to each other in years, suddenly became friends; the foreign workers found themselves invited into villagers homes for meals; any stray or hungry looking animal was sumptuously fed; and more people that usual went to church on Christmas Day because ‘surely He’ll be there’.”

It was a miracle,” my friend told me ‘Truly there was peace in our village last Christmas and a spirit of goodwill to all creation.’ Of course it didn’t last for very long. By mid January everything was pretty much back to normal, as if nothing strange had happened.” My friend was curious to see what might happen this coming Christmas, if anything.

First posted in http://contemporaryspirituality.blog

I’ve often been fascinated by the characters artists have shown to be present at Jesus’ birth, who they’ve omitted, and the implications of their choices. Clearly Mary and the baby Jesus are there as the primary characters, and Joseph too, albeit in a less significant role if they took the ‘Virgin Birth’ literally, or in a more prominent one if maybe they didn’t.

Often angels are present, perhaps singing and dancing in celebration, as the only figures who truly understand the significance of what is happening, thus underlining the Divine Presence.

Shepherds might be there, representing ordinary men interrupted from their work, and sometimes mid-wives to represent working women. No priests or obviously religious figures. But in paintings commissioned by wealthy patrons, three kings or wise men and their impressive entourages are there, with the kings looking remarkably like the wealthy patrons. [Who of course are not portrayed as shepherds] They’re usually shown as representing the three ages of man, one young, one middle-aged, and one elderly. They also usually represent different countries of origin, with one having a black skin, to show that this birth was for the salvation of all the human race. If they’re wise men rather than kings, then other faiths are also present.

Some artists place animals in the scene, a donkey, cattle & sometimes sheep or a camel, with the implication that salvation was for the animal kingdom, and maybe all of creation, as well. But often they are omitted, with the implication, intended or not, that salvation was just for humans.

But I’ve just been sent, by my daughter Hannah an article by Erna Albertz in which she reflects on a 1515 painting “The Adoration of the Christ Child,” created by a follower of the Dutch painter Jan Joest of Kalkar.  

No animals in this one, but “a close look at the artwork reveals two characters who appear to have Down syndrome. One a shepherd–looking down at the scene from behind a post at the center of the painting–and the other an angel standing beside the mother Mary, these two participants in the nativity are situated in what would seem to be places of honor.

Because the painter is unknown, his motive for placing them there can only be surmised. He may have had a child with Down syndrome or simply known individuals with the condition. At that time, the syndrome also may not have been formally diagnosed as it is today. What seems beyond doubt is that he felt they belonged there, in the midst of the holy scene. Tears came to my eyes when first examining this painting: I have a younger sister with Down syndrome and can strongly relate to what the painter must have been trying to convey. Against what must surely have been a hostile environment for people with disabilities, his work attests to the power of love. I thought you’d appreciate seeing it too.”  And I do.

Another writer whom Hannah came across commented: “This oil on wood painting shows a classic nativity scene, and the little angel kneeling at the front on the left clearly has Down’s syndrome. Some think the shepherd at the back on the left also has an additional chromosome. At the time when the work was created it was common for the faces of those who had commissioned the art to feature within it. Perhaps we are looking at the face of the much-loved daughter of a wealthy and proud 16th Century Flemish family here. 

So examine your Christmas cards depicting the Birth of Jesus, and any nativity tableaus you may witness, and ask yourself ‘Who is the salvation depicted here for, who is included and who is absent, and why? And what are the implications of the choices that have been, probably unconsciously, made?’ And, even, who would you want to be pictured present at Jesus’ birth if you were to be in the position to commission an artwork?

First posted in http://contemporaryspirituality.blog

I was recently in Sheffield with my daughter Lizzie, and we visited the Graves Gallery hoping to see a favourite painting of mine by Gwen John, ‘A Corner of the Artist’s Room in Paris’. It was out on loan, so I bought a postcard instead. It is a remarkable image.

It captures what R S Thomas might have called ‘the presence of an absence’ for neither the artist nor anyone else is in the picture. There are no signs of the artist’s equipment. We just have an empty chair with a white cushion facing slightly towards us, there is a blue garment strewn across it, a white parasol resting against it; and a table in front of a window, on which is a small vase of flowers. Gwen John is conspicuously not there, but there are things that indicate that she has been there and will return there, and together with the room itself, simple and uncluttered, with a window onto the world outside, they give a powerful sense of her presence. We can intuit quite a lot about her from this space that we know she inhabits, despite her absence. The existence of the picture implies that the artist herself must have been present in order to paint it, but chose to remain absent from it. Not even the title gives her away: it could be any artist.

I find that quite fascinating. On reflection its saying something that in many ways is commonplace and obvious. If I enter a room it will tell me a lot about the person/people who have created and inhabit it. If I visit an urban space it will tell me something about the culture of the people who live there. Reading this blog you might get a sense of the man who wrote it, without having ever met me in the flesh.

The winner of the Booker prize has just been announced, its ‘Orbit’ by Samantha Harvey, and I read it a couple of months ago. It’s about a day in the life of the International Space Station currently orbiting the earth sixteen times a day: the cosmonauts rather humdrum existence, and what they feel as they gaze at the planet, their real home. Earth looks very different from out there of course, it’s awe-inspiringly beautiful.

While in Sheffield, Lizzie and I went for a walk in the Rivelin Valley, and it was stunning & awe-inspiringly beautiful too, with its bare trees & autumn colours.

The Great Cosmic Artist, of course is as absent; from all this as Gwen John is from her painting, but we can intuit much about Her/Him from the clues that are available to us. Its just a matter of looking and being aware of the Presence that is hiding in plain sight.

First posted in http://contemporaryspirituality.blog

Come Lord Jesus.

You are coming.

Christ has died

Christ is risen

Christ is coming again

and again, and again;

every day you come.

Every moment. 

You come, you show up

in the dross

in the loss

in the smile of the senile. 

In the mall,

the Mass, the Mosque

in the market, damp

cellars where rats scamper.

In the Hope & Anchor

you come, you show up

Look out! He’s on the way!