Father Paul Daly's Christmas Homily

Photo: Phil Cunningham

Father Paul Daly

I’m on the train travelling back from a meeting in London, relaxing, with a book, maybe a glass of Chateau Rail, and clerical collar removed. And I get chatting to a fellow passenger, about various things, none of them that important. And then he asks me "and what exactly do you do"?

The conversation typically follows the following lines:

Me: "I’m a Catholic priest."

Passenger: "Oh, I was brought up a Catholic, first communion, Catholic schools, the lot. Taught by the nuns, you know – I was terrified of them but, looking back, they were firm but fair. When my kids are old enough for school, I want them to go to a Catholic school. Mind you, I don’t believe in any of that stuff they taught me. I mean, how could you? That Richard Dawkins has proved there is no such thing as God, hasn’t he?"

Me: "Ok, just describe to me the kind of ‘God’ you say you no longer believe in."

And when my new friend has finished telling me of a ‘God’ who is all-powerful yet somehow couldn’t give a damn about all the suffering in the world and yet whom we still pray to when we’re in mess, so that he can turn out like the RAC or the AA and sort it out, and then retreat to divine retirement, I simply say "but I don’t believe in that ‘God’ either".

And they are surprised: "You’re a priest and you don’t believe in God?"

"Oh no, I believe very firmly in God, I just don’t accept the image of God you’ve just described."

I am always saddened that many who say ‘I have been looking for God but can’t find him’, are, just maybe, looking for the ‘popular God’ rather than the genuine article. Let’s be clear that, as poor limited finite human beings, we could not know anything about what God is like unless God revealed himself to us.

So, my friends, jumping forward to this Christmas night, if God has gone to the trouble of showing himself to us (and God didn’t actually need to – he could have left us guessing), then where is he? Will we see him arriving in a cavalcade, with a 21 gun salute and a ticker tape welcome and a civic reception? Or as a mighty warrior victorious in battle? Or maybe entrusting himself to the popular vote on ‘I’m a divinity; get me out of here’ where the viewers can see if they can spot the one true God amongst a range of gods, such as power, celebrity, wealth, sex, drugs, success in the eyes of others and many more. Or maybe, with God’s impeccable timing and sense of irony, we will find God born as a back-street baby behind a booked-up boozer in busy Bethlehem?

Take a look at the baby Jesus. Take a look, before you pour the first drink, at your crib scene or the image on one of your Christmas cards or even search it. Take a look at it and maybe pause in front of it for each of the twelve days of Christmas and remember this: that God is born as a back-street baby behind a booked-up boozer in busy Bethlehem. If, after the sherry and the turkey and the pud and the Queen’s speech and more sherry, you can’t manage to say ‘born as a back-street baby behind a booked up boozer in busy Bethlehem’ (and I don’t think I’ll be able to) then simply say ‘God is born for us; God is with us’.

This Christmas and the coming year, where will we look to for truth, goodness, beauty, healing, forgiveness, strength, purpose? Will we expect that we can get all of that on our own, reading the books or the tea-leaves or whatever? If so, we will be neglecting God’s greatest gift to us this and every Christmas, which is the gift of his son to inspire and enable and guide and support us each and every day. Jesus, like a pet, is not just for Christmas.

The crowds that booked up every inn in Bethlehem that first Christmas were there for the census, they were there to be counted. And yet, in following the commands of the Emperor over in Rome, they missed the true King, born as a back-street baby behind a booked-up boozer in busy Bethlehem, but they were there to be counted.

May we, Christmas 2015 and in 2016, know what really counts – to find God not afar off but where he comes to meet us, no longer a baby nor a child but the man who lived and died and rose again and who, through his spirit in the church and the world, is with us now, here in our coming together, in his words in the scriptures and in bread and wine, which become his body and blood, his presence among us every bit as real as he was in that stable in Bethlehem.

May we know the joy and peace of living each and every day in his presence.