Nativity Joy

Dame Judi Dench tells a story about her daughter Finty's first steps in the family profession when she was cast as the innkeeper's wife in a school nativity. For weeks, she solemnly rehearsed her line. A visitor to the house, told that Finty was in a play, asked what it was. "It's a nativity," the child replied. "And what is it about?" they asked. "Well," Finty said, "it is all about this innkeeper's wife..."

Every child is the star (sometimes the Star) in a nativity. Every shepherd No 5 or deputy sub-angel is just as important, to themselves and their family at any rate, as the girl playing Mary. My son, Humphrey, was cast last year in the small but crucial role of Herod's special adviser. I had wondered how the manifesto pledge to kill all boys under the age of two would play with focus groups, not to mention school rolls, but the former Supreme Court justice who was there to watch his granddaughter wearing a tea-towel on her head may have thrown it out.

That was my sixth and (sob) final nativity as a parent. In reception, Humph and his older sister, Hattie, had played angels in bedsheets and tinsel. Then came the animal year, with a creative menagerie to bolster the sheep, ox and ass. Hattie was not impressed to be cast as a chicken (one child unsuccessfully asked to be a Tyrannosaurus Rex), but in her final year she played the narrator. I was Joseph more than 40 years ago. My mother recalls me looking bored and picking my nose, which is probably what the original Joseph did.

People have been retelling the story of the birth of Christ through nativity plays for 800 years. The first was put on in the Italian hill town of Greccio in 1223 by John of Assisi, the son of a silk merchant who had chosen a life of monastic poverty. He was later better known by the nickname he acquired from his French mother and his father's business interests in her country.

Tableaux nativities using statues had long been created but when the future St Francis encouraged the townspeople to bring their animals to a stable for Midnight Mass, he created a new form of devotion. Thomas of Celano, Francis's first biographer, wrote that, inspired by a visit to the Holy Land, he had wanted to "bring to life the memory of that babe born in Bethlehem, to see as much as possible with my own bodily eyes, the discomfort of his infant needs; how he lay in a manger, and how, with an ox and ass standing by, he was laid upon a bed of hay". The reality of the scene enhanced the wonder at the story.

So, Thomas went on, those who witnessed this first living nativity were filled with "a new and indescribable joy". The priest then celebrated the Eucharist over the manger, linking their remembrance of Christ's future sacrifice and his rise in glory to the humbling simplicity of his birth. The King of Kings came into this world small, poor and defenceless; in need, like us all, of love.

As we get older, we lose our sense of wonder. Tiredness, cynicism, a realisation that life is precarious and difficult: these drive away the simple joy of youth.

Yet when the next generation put on a nativity play it can help us to see again the story of Christ's birth in a stable through a child's eyes and realise, if our hearts let us, that a miracle took place on that cold, starblessed night.

Hattie had one more form of nativity when she was seven. Each year for decades there has been a Christmas Eve procession at dusk through Blackheath, southeast London, ending outside All Saints' Church, where I am a warden. It is led by two children as Mary and Joseph riding on a donkey. Or not, when Hattie played Mary. The regular donkey had gone lame and his understudy refused to leave his trailer, so Mary and Joseph led the community through the village on foot.

And by community, I mean far more than those who worship at church on a Sunday. A vast crowd formed behind the children and along both sides of the road as they walked down Tranquil Vale to the heath (in the distant past, I'm told, they even stopped at The Crown inn to be told there was no room). An estimated 1,500 people joined the throng at All Saints', where they sang carols to a brass band and gave money for Crisis, the homelessness charity.

What brings so many people out to take part in this religious ceremony when they might not set foot in a church the rest of the year? I suspect it is a hard-to-explain impulse to recapture that childish sense of wonder, to park their daily worries by joining in a simple ritual and to contemplate, perhaps, as they sing Away in a Manger that there is some deeper reason for our existence. Like the shepherds in the original story, they feel summoned to see the Holy Family.

One year, it was especially magical. As we gathered on the heath, a bright light suddenly passed overhead, cutting through the clear sky and leading some to whisper to their children that it was the Star of Bethlehem or Santa Claus making an early start. That Christmas, the International Space Station joined our community nativity, sending our eyes and our wonder up to the heavens. 

First published in The Times, December 14, 2024

Double Celebration at All Saints

The 1st November 2024 was indeed a red letter day for All Saints as not only did we mark our patronal feast, but also celebrated the 25th anniversary of Fr Nicholas as our Vicar.

With the Church full of friends from near and far, the Festal Mass began in true All Saints style with a procession around the Church, which was joined enthusiastically by the assembled congregation. With sublime music from our magnificent choir, prayers and readings that reminded us of that great cloud of witness that surrounds us, we gave thanks to God for their lives and the example of holiness they give us.

The collect for All Saints Day, sums this up thus:

Almighty God; You have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship In the mystical body of your son Christ our Lord: Grant us grace so to follow your blessed saints In all virtuous and godly living that we may come to those inexpressible joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you: Through Jesus Christ Our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen 

Following the Mass the celebratory reception began with drinks and a wonderful bring and share supper provided by members of the parish. A cocktail, specially created for the occasion and named The Cranfield was presented; and along with toasts and speeches, Fr. Nicholas’ quarter century as our Vicar was certainly celebrated in style.

  

PILGRIM STEPS

A very wet and grey morning welcomed the band of 12 Pilgrims as we huddled against the walls of All Saints to say our short Pilgrim Office before taking our first steps across the Heath towards our destination - the Shrine of Edward the Confessor.

Navigating the route we pass through and by street markets, housing estates, main roads, football stadiums and for some of the way we had to share our pilgrimage with the Saturday morning runners in Southwark Park.

Eventually the rain began to ease and we arrived at the River Thames, at Bermondsey Reach for our traditional photo opportunity. 

The merry band then continued along, chatting, sharing stories and fellowship until, right on schedule we stopped for a well earned coffee break at the Sicilian Cafe in Shad Thames.

With the end in sight, we remained on the South Bank, passing under the London Eye and over Westminster Bridge, where once in the Abbey we happily met with others from All Saint’s  who had taken a different route in.

The Festal Mass, was, as always glorious, with the Abbey Choir in magnificent voice and the liturgy both solemn and dignified as befitting such a place. The Bishop of Ramsbury preached a sermon about Pilgrim Steps in which he considered; in whose steps are we walking when we make a pilgrimage and what path do we leave behind for others to follow.

After the Mass, all the Pilgrims are able to visit the Shrine and pray there. There are small alcoves around which, at which  you can kneel and, for a moment, be hidden as you join your prayers to the prayers of the centuries of pilgrims who have asked St Edward for his intercession.

The Abbey belongs to the Pilgrims that day, and you are invited to explore this great place of worship prayerfully without the usual hordes of tourists.

By the time we left the Abbey, the skies had cleared and Westminster was bathed in autumnal sunlight. It was a fitting end to a day walking the way of the Pilgrim: full of faith, hope and fellowship.

Saint Edward the Confessor - Pray for us

NM - 20/10/24