Christmas Cracked Her

Between Brexit and the seasonal dirge that is January, this is one Christmas I just haven’t been able to get in the mood for any commercial jolliness. Perhaps I’ve just seen one too many bad headlines; perhaps it’s the crushing sense of evil being triumphant when a whole continent is burning and yet a witless selection of voting citizens remains gleefully in thrall to an axis of evil climate deniers, immoral pussy-grabbers and tax-/conscience-evading leaders (Bolsonaro, Trump, Johnson). I pray every day for their impeachment, but justice is slow to come. And at this time of year when we sing about the Light that came into the world to bring peace, joy and love to all mankind, it seems we have instead nothing but darkness and denial.

And so, filled with rage, what can I do? I could care less about the presents under the tree; I crave presence more than anything: presence of mind, presence of grace, awareness of the beauty that is still around us if we seek for it. At such a dire time as this – which may very well be humanity’s very last dance on this planet – we need compassion and community more than ever. We need to gift each other with kindness, truth and tolerance. And we need to prepare our hearts for a God who is bigger than this horrible mess we have made of the home He gave us.