And so we come again to Christmas (and in a few days' time in some parts of the Christian world) and maybe we are reminded again of this extraordinary mystery of God's coming to dwell with us and share in our humanity, calling us as well to share in the presence of divinity, to share with each other, with our poor neighbour, with the lonely person on the street, and with the household of the holy Trinity.
'Come' said Jesus again and again. Jesus who was born in the back streets, who invites us to come to him in the back streets of our cities and the back streets of our own hearts. Jesus who longs for us to open the doors and let him in to our lives.
Jesus who was born for sacrifice and blood... to the point of no turning back... for giving... as the gift of God to us... and born in blood and tears in the sidelines of an empire, in the obscurity, in the dirt, in the givenness of a young woman, and the undisclosed decency of a young man.
The God who longs to share even consciousness and awareness with us... to share the flow of love... to open and grow in the mystery of our becoming, and the mystery of God's becoming in back street humanity, and the meeting and tenderness and alongside-ness of a life among us.
Sharing. The whole point really. The God who came and shared with us. A backstreet God of the marginalised. A God without airs and graces. A God who is presence when words alone can't reach and comfort the tears. Lord have mercy.
Remarkable mystery... not the mystery of plaster saints... perhaps as Yeats said, something of what the Magi spent a lifetime trying to find and experience again:
"The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor..."
The humble-hearted and obscure coming of God... among us... always calling to us... always loving us... always seeking out the people on the sidelines and the lonely corners of our world.
May the blessings of peace be with you this Nativity, and peace of God to each and every person who visits or has visited these pages.