Advent Thoughts - Saving

Batman is in despair, Superman is questioning his abilities and Wonder Woman has lost her wonder. A new series has thrown the comic book world into turmoil. The story began with a brutal murder for which they all felt partly to blame. Superman even shed a tear. In the most recent episode, the heroes and heroine are acting more or less back in character but there has been real concern about long-invincible characters experiencing such a dramatic identity crisis.

Self-doubt and distress in a hero or heroine can be unsettling. Those who depend for their own sense of security on people they perceive to be strong generally want that strength to be impervious to sadness or uncertainty. It’s partly because seeing others struggling with painful feelings puts them in touch with their own. Adulation of others’ power is often a way of avoiding acknowledgement of our own weakness.

In the birth of Jesus, God offered the world a hero about whose inner life we know virtually nothing. But he did display sadness , disappointment and confusion and struggle . He was far from the invulnerable and invincible hero the popular imagination often seeks.

Author of the new series, Brad Meltzer, said: 'I’m taking the heroes and testing everything about them, putting them in difficulties and seeing how they come out.' His intention seems to be to give these characters a new ‘human’ side. Jesus affirms human struggle and frailty. Being tested, facing difficulties, were all part of his life as they are part of ours. A hero who helps us acknowledge our human weakness will be much more helpful than one who pretends that our salvation is in invincibility.

The memorial service for Ginny, a schnauzer-Siberian husky, was attended by some 300 cats. It formed part of this year’s Westchester Cat Show. Ginny died in August at age 17, after a long career as a one-dog rescue party for cats on Long Island's South Shore. Cat lover, Philip Gonzalez, used to take the dog out every night to feed stray cats in the area and over the years, Ginny saved hundreds of cats who were abandoned, injured or in harm's way. She once ignored the cuts on her paws as she dug through a box full of broken glass to find an injured cat inside. On another occasion, she threw herself against a vertical pipe at a construction site to topple it and reveal the kittens trapped inside.

Dogs are renowned for their loyalty to their human owners but such concern for another animal species is remarkable. In human beings too, care for our own families and those like us comes naturally. It is when we put ourselves out to help people who are totally unlike us, whose lifestyle or assumptions, or the environment in which they live, mark them out as being very different from us that a deeper humanity is revealed.

Jesus’ life was distinguished by such caring. His loving for people Jewish society thought of as beyond the pale – prostitutes, tax-collectors, non-Jews - crossed boundaries and challenges us to check again whether our loving extends to people whose difference from us might deter us.

Indeed, the very existence of Jesus reveals how God too crosses that kind of boundary. Without his coming, what’s human and what’s divine would have continued to seem very far apart. But God wanted to save us from that narrow-mindedness which limits our potential to love. He showed the way in Jesus when he embraced our humanity with his divinity. Perhaps today we might widen the range of those whom we embrace with our loving and our caring.

Walking fully grown tigers on a leash is all part of a day's work for a group of Buddhist monks the Pha Luang Ba Tua temple in Thailand. They take in tigers injured but not killed by hunters or by people who did not want the tiger near their village but also did not want to see it die.

"We are a big family here and we live together, not just with the tigers but many animals," said head monk Phusit Khantidharo, sitting cross-legged on a rock surrounded by five large tigers who take turns to nuzzle up affectionately to their saffron-robed master.

The monks live with the possibility that an outburst of aggression and potentially destructive violence may occur suddenly and without warning. So do most of us. Hidden deep within most human beings is a well of frustration and anger. We become aware of it particularly when we feel provoked or threatened. It can seem powerful. Indeed so strong does it sometimes feel that we are worried that one day we will be unable to control it.

The child born in the stable died on the cross as a result of that violence. Throughout his life, he met it - in the violence ascribed to evil spirits, in the anger of his opponents, even in the misunderstanding of his disciples and his betrayal by one of them. But like the monks, he befriended those who expressed it. By coming into the world and living with gentleness alongside confused, aggressive and angry people, he drew its sting. The love which came to us in the stable and proved stronger than death is our constant ally against the threat such violence and frustration poses.

As we prepare to celebrate a festival of peace, let’s be confident in what the Christmas story says about God coming into our violent world and defusing its power. It can give us the courage to live at ease alongside any potential for violence or anger within ourselves and know that ultimately, there’s a power that’s stronger than it is.

A giant white radish broke through asphalt to grow fruitfully on a road in the Japanese town of Aioi. Local residents nicknamed the vegetable "Gutsy Radish”. Asked why the radish had so many fans, town spokesman Jiro Matsuo said: "People discouraged by tough times were cheered by its tenacity and strong will to live."

So imagine the heartbreak when the radish was decapitated by an unknown assailant. Such was the outrage that the next day the top half of the radish was found near the site where it had been growing. The repentant attacker had placed it in water to try to keep it alive and possibly get it to flower.

Our hearts are warmed by examples of people who, faced with tough times, come triumphantly through. It is one aspect of the appeal of the Nativity. Faced with giving birth on the streets, Mary finds shelter. Searched for by Herod’s soldiers, the family escapes to Egypt. The story reminds us that God comes to encourage and enable such guts and determination wherever human beings are faced with apparently insurmountable odds.

The child who survived these threatening situations early in his life had to face worse later. Whatever courage Jesus showed in dealing with his opponents, they eventually had the upper hand and it seemed as though the cross defeated him. But the way he broke through the barrier of death has inspired people down the ages and cheered on many who were struggling with life.

The birth of Jesus is part of a longer story about how God consistently breaks into our lives with the promise of strength and hope. Let’s allow the Christmas story to remind us to welcome God’s help and encouragement, especially when what we face seems as impermeable as asphalt.

A secret summit of Santas, meeting back in October, agreed new guidelines. Father Christmas must have a bushy white beard no more than six inches long and a girth of no greater than 48 inches and no less than 46 inches. "We are trying to eradicate shoddy Santas," said James Lovell of the Ministry of Fun agency which fills 500 Santa positions a year. "I even saw a Santa last year wearing trainers." The hope is that this year, a properly resonant 'Ho! Ho! Ho!' and a neatly presented Santa will adorn Santa’s grottoes.

It’s unlikely that there will be any reciprocal gestures from those responsible for that other favourite Christmas scene, the Crib. It might be tempting to raise standards there too. The baby really should have a proper crib, not an animals’ feeding trough. The walls should be draught proof. The family should have its own space, not be cheek by jowl with cows and goats.

But to tidy up that scene would be to take away its meaning. Jesus was born in a messy, bleak environment. He lived in a chaotic, confused world. The discomfort of his birth was nothing compared with the agony of his dying. The point of the Crib is to remind us that when God chose to come and be part of our lives, he did so in a manner that showed us he didn’t expect VIP treatment. He came to be part of human experience at its toughest and most demanding.

This gives us a reassurance that lasts well beyond Christmas. Few of us have lives which go to plan and leave us untroubled. The fact that Jesus experienced the same kind of messiness and struggle as we do gives us confidence that when we seek God’s support in dealing with our troubles, he knows what we’re on about. Magically tidying it all up is not usually what he does, but the Crib guarantees that he will be with us in our confusion and help us through it.