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IT’S been difficult to see the evidence of ‘peace on earth and goodwill toward men’ these last few days as the member states of the United Nations General Assembly concluded their year with a round of furious threats and accusations against each other, in the wake of the united States’ decision to recognize Jerusalem as the capital of the modern state of Israel.
While there is always some theatre and face-saving involved in these general assemblies, the message this week was clear: governments were furious with each other, goodwill was eroding and the consequences were dangerous and unpredictable.
Nor has ‘peace and goodwill’ been so evident in Australian political affairs this year. Apart from a late show of bipartisan agreement on publically-supported changes to the Marriage Act, the business of Parliament this year has been mostly a recurring dog-fight to secure position and gain positive airspace in the media.
And, more locally and tragically, here in Melbourne the year 2017 has been book-ended by two aggressively pointless car attacks in which six people died, tens were injured, and thousands of city workers and visitors traumatised, and all of us just that bit more suspicious of each other.
So there is a lot resting on us, we Christians, gathered tonight singing carols of peace and goodwill, proclaiming that ‘a people that walked in darkness has seen a great light’ – a Saviour, Wonder-Counsellor, Prince of Peace. How can we speak of a light that saves, a savior born to us?
Of course, for many of our contemporaries, colleagues at work, family and friends, Christmas is simply fairy tales and wishful thinking anyway.
There’s nothing objectively real about Christmas that could change for the better the way things are in the world, or prevent the cruelties and corruptions we see around us and within us every day.
Some Christians see the coming of a Saviour as a private matter about going to heaven when we die, and leave the world to its own, often evil, ways.
Some people reckon that Christian churches and people are no different to the rest of society, just as corrupt, just as abusive (or even more so!), just as complicit in the hate and violence of the world as everyone else. So how can Christians talk about a special knowledge of a Saviour, a great light shining in the darkness?
It’s clear to me that, in the wake of the personal testimonies and final recommendations unfolding from the Royal Commission into Institutional Response to Child Abuse, as well as the unhappiness of very many Catholics and others with the clerical power structures of the church and the way in which they are exercised, that the Catholic Church in Australia, our church, has taken a debilitating blow to its ability to witness to that great light, to a Saviour born to us.
I suppose the question for many Catholics, perhaps especially the younger millennial generation, is whether that blow is terminal or not, whether the Church is so compromised, so fatally flawed, that it cannot be trusted to commit our lives to, or able to offer meaning and purpose to our lives, or to support and nourish our spiritual and moral lives, or lead us deeper into the presence of Christ and the love of God? Can the church show us the light that shines in the darkness? the Saviour who dwells among us?
For myself, while feeling the weakness and vulnerability of the Church, and of my own witness, more acutely with each passing year, I also know that without the Church I cannot meet Jesus Christ and the love of God that Christ reveals and offers to me personally and to the world.
Christ will still be there, without the Church, intensely alive and active at the heart of the cosmos, but without the Church – its scripture and teaching, its sacraments and liturgy, its ministries and service – how could I ever learn to see, touch or feel Christ’s presence, to name him, recognise the signs of his presence, speak with him in prayer, or learn how to follow his Gospel?
In the light of all the failures we are now aware of, and of those that will never come to light, the Church-that-we-all-are is learning more deeply that we too need a Saviour, a Redeemer, a Prince of Peace, in solidarity with all humanity. We are learning more deeply our own need for conversion, for transformation, for healing and justice.
Speaking last Thursday to the heads of the Vatican dicasteries, Pope Francis reflected on the type of faith we learn about at Christmas:
Christmas reminds us that a faith that does not trouble us is a troubled faith. A faith that does not make us grow is a faith that needs to grow. A faith that does not raise questions is a faith that has to be questioned. A faith that does not rouse us is a faith that needs to be roused. A faith that does not shake us is a faith that needs to be shaken. Indeed a faith that is only intellectual or lukewarm is only a notion of faith. It can become real once it touches our heart, our soul, our spirit, our whole being. Once it allows God to be born and reborn, in the manger of our heart.
May the coming of the Christ Child trouble, question, rouse and shake us, until our lives become the place where Christ takes flesh again and again for the life of the world.