On Monday I was in HMP Wormwood Scrubs for a ‘Thank you’ event for prison chaplains in England and Wales. The various speakers used the words ‘hope’ and ‘joy’ in their words of thanks, and they were words to which I returned when I spoke at the prison carol service in the evening. However, ‘hope’ and ‘joy’ are words which can roll off the tongue so easily and are too often equated with a naïve optimism and can imply a denial of pain.
On Monday morning, before I left for the prison, I was listening to the news – national and international – and there was little which sparked optimism in me. It’s true that as the events across the Middle East rage, I rejoiced last week at the release from administrative detention of the young Palestinian Anglican, Layan Nassir, but it has not left me feeling optimistic about the situation in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, not least for Christians in Bethlehem 2000 years+ after the birth of Christ, and I certainly don’t feel optimistic about the situation in Gaza or the fate of the Israeli hostages. But I do continue to dwell in a place of both joy and hope and neither are about mere warm feelings (although I certainly had some of those as the prisoners’ choir sang on Monday evening).
Advent joy and hope emerge from the mysterious words of prophets of long ago speaking of transformation and justice and looking forward to the fulfilment of the coming of God’s kingdom and God coming to earth as a tiny child – God with us. Joy and hope are writ large in that with-ness of God, undefeated by opposition, darkness, and even death. Joy and hope are not dismissed by tears or searing pain, because the promise of God’s kingdom cannot be erased, and can be glimpsed even now, not least as we await the celebration once more of Baby God, Jesus Christ, flesh and blood, lying in the animal feeding trough; and as we look to a day yet to come when all shall be made new. Hope will not be undone by human mess such as the horror of war or the weariness of daily life, or the wondering why we bothered, or the shock waves in a national Church, or the awfulness of trauma in people’s lives. Indeed, the song of the angels is almost an affront to so much of the reality of life, yet it cannot be quenched, and God’s glory will not be diminished.
As week two of Advent moves on at pace, I know there will be weariness as well as excitement; questioning as well as confidence; and in addition to the strewing of tinsel and streamers there will be unholy mess, yet may we draw deeply from the wells of God’s hope and joy, and be authentic purveyors of that joy and hope across our different contexts and amid the vast array of people’s stories.
This Sunday (often known as Gaudete Sunday, from the Latin word for rejoice) we will hear the words of St Paul, ‘Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice’ (Philippians 4:4) and my prayer is that we will – that I will – that you will – whatever your current story.
This comes with my prayers, joy and hope.
Dear Bishop Rachel
Following this morning’s news I fear the Archbishop of York must resign and certainly cannot lead the church in to Christmas. I am also deeply saddend to hear the Bishop of Newcastle state she was being largely shunned for her views on the Archbishop of Canterbury. While I destest trial by media, the Church must no hid behinbd legalities as in this case. I speak as a ‘survivor’ myself (case subject to a non disclosure agreement).