Family fiesta

Just over fifty came to Midnight Mass. As I was getting ready to celebrate, I discovered that the readings selected for the service were actually the ones I'd published on Sway for Christmas Morning, altogether different in theme and ethos. Just as well, I had tomorrow's sermon in my bag as well as the one I expected to preach tonight. It was half past twelve when I left church and five past one when I climbed into bed.

Up at eight, and going straight to my workstation to work on adapting last night's unused sermon to preach this morning, the breakfasting with Owain and Clare before setting off for St Catherine's to celebrate with two dozen worshippers, and a couple of noisy young children to remind us of what Christmas is all about.

It's not the traditionally packed church with as many participants as spectators for both Christmas services. Covid broke the popular spell. The unmerciful assault on Gaza has left a sour taste in festive sentiment for many people of good will. Decline in habitual regular churchgoing is making the cultural and social life of local community based parish churches and ministry unsustainable. Shortage of clergy is only a part of the equation. Without lay leaders and workers to inspire and engage the wider constituency the building soon ceases to be relevant, an asset becomes a liability. It happened to the majority of non-conformist churches in the second half of the 20th century, and now it's happening to Anglican parishes. I don't think I have any insight into how reverse the decline I feel I've been fighting throughout my ministry.

Owain and Clare came to the ten thirty service this morning, having started the turkey cooking and getting the veggies and pudding ready beforehand. At two we sat down to dinner with chestnut casserole as well as turkey and a selection of excellent Rhone valley red wines. We paused for present opening before going on to the Christmas pudding and cheeses. Then I slept sweetly for over an hour, waking up just as a movie on Netflix was starting called 'Nativity' an extended fantasy musical comedy about primary schools vying with each other to produce the best possible nativity play with their children. It appeared in 2009, but I'd never heard of it until a showing of it was arranged in St John's Church a week ago. It was hilarious and it made impressive use of a large cast of children in the seven to nine age range. After this we watched the King's speech, which was impressive in its inclusiveness and unashamed affirmation of communities of faith and public service.

Then it was time for a walk through silentt empty streets in the dark to get some fresh air before bed, Kath and Owain, Clare and I, to round off a traditional family fiesta in a way we like to celebrate.