Light in the darkness

November is a dark month, with the reality of short days and long nights starts to kick in. But over the last few years the darkness of November seems to have become much more personal.

For my family there are some significant anniversaries which fall in November, and this weekend is particularly painful. It's a time that prompts tough questions which seem to have no useful answers. At times the darkness can feel almost overwhelming.

But today also marks the start of Advent, the time when, for hundreds of years, Christians have entered a time of waiting and preparation for Christmas. The first chapter of John's gospel talks of Jesus not as a baby, which tends to be our default at this time of year, but as 'the light of men'. John's 'Advent' was less about looking forward to a birth and more about announcing that 'the light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world'.

This weekend that Advent promise has a dual significance. Jesus has stepped into the world to bring the light of hope and comfort to those close to me who are grieving and I pray that they will be aware of that today. But he also comes to offer that same hope to everyone, whatever the darkness they face.

An underdog story

I've thought of a fourth reason why the real meaning of Christmas should be an easy sell. If there's one thing we Brits love, it's a story in which the underdog wins against all the odds. And let's face it, the Christmas story has no shortage of underdogs.

We have the shepherds, social outcasts invited to be the first visitors of the newborn baby Jesus.

Then there's Mary, with the odds stacked against her in an extraordinary way - a teenage girl who, at the risk of losing her fiance, her reputation, her dignity and her life, responds to Gabriel's announcement of her pregnancy with the courageous, "Yes, I see it all now: I am the Lord's servant maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say".

But the ultimate underdog is surely Jesus himself. We may complain about the NHS but in a world with neither universal health care or a basic understand of the principles of hygiene, God was clearly taking an outrageous risk sending his son, on whose tiny shoulders the future of creation rested, to earth as a baby. I think the matter-of-fact way in which the gospels record this fact, and even John's profound statement that "the Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighbourhood" can almost disguise the enormity of God's decision.

But then, the underdog always comes good in the end. Don't they?

What's not to like?

I've been thinking about this whole "real meaning of Christmas" thing and I've concluded that it really shouldn't be a hard sell. I mean, what's not to like? It has a whole number of key elements that people love; just off the top of my head I can think of three - a baby, a party and some presents.

The challenge comes, of course, as you start to scratch beneath the surface a bit, as you begin to realise that this is no ordinary baby, no ordinary set of gifts, no ordinary party.

But maybe that's the value of Advent - it's an invitation to look a little deeper, to take time to reflect on the familiar, to go on a journey without making any assumptions about where you'll end up.