maggi dawn

Beginnings and Endings

My new book is just about to be published. Beginnings and Endings (and what happens in between) looks at the big themes of Advent. The book is laid out as short chapters, one for each day from 1 December to 6 January, to last from Advent to Epiphany. But you can just read it in one go if you'd rather.

Beginnings are important because Advent anticipates the coming of Christ into the world; because candles in the Advent wreath represent the signs of new beginnings through the salvation story - the journey of the Patriarchs, the promises of the Prophets, the announcement of John the Baptist and the conception of Christ. As well as writing about these themes, I also look at the way each of the four gospel writers begins their gospel. In literary terms, what does their starting point tell us about the way they are telling the story?

Advent is also about Endings, because it anticipates the second coming of Christ, and the end of the world as we know it. That's an idea shrouded in mystery, but it reminds us that every new beginning implies an end of something else.

Most of our lives, of course, are lived in between, with dozens of small scale beginnings and endings going on in and around our daily lives. Births and marriages, deaths and funerals, promotions, redundancies, retirements, graduations... all these milestones lead us through endings and beginnings. The characters in the story of salvation also lived through these, and we can trace through their stories some wisdom as we live through our own.

This book was a labour of love; lots of stories close to my own heart, lots of ideas I have carried around in my head that never had an outlet. It was fun to write (though Kathryn, David, Jason and Caroline, who read and critiqued the drafts for me will no doubt remind me of the moments when I said "why did I ever say yes to this???). I hope you'll enjoy reading it.   

available on amazon stateside from 21 september

Poems for Christmas: BC:AD

This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future's
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect
Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.

U.A. Fanthorpe (born 1929)

more reflections on Advent and Christmas here

twelve days of christmas

Andii Bowsher wrote this about Christmas Cards in my blog-comments last year:
A few years ago we decided to recognise Christmas as the 12 day feast it's supposed to be and stopped worrying whether the cards arrived before Dec 25, the aim being to get them to arrive sometime during the 12 days. We told everyone in an enclosed note what we were doing and that it was part of de-stressing Christmas and told them they were welcome to do likewise.

It's a nice idea. I might do likewise, although I suppose you could argue that all you do is move the stress date back a few days. But I totally like the idea of spreading the feast - something my family has done for years - we meet different bits of the family on successive days, having scaled down feasts and presents at each house, which makes for a more manageable excitement level for the kids and a consequently manageable stress level for the parents.

Joyeux Noël

Al last I have seen Christian' Carion's imaginative re-telling of the story of Christmas 1914 in the trenches, when French, German and British troops met in no-man's land to sing and play football. Carion adds lots of imaginative development to the historical detaisl fo the story, and certainly the British don't come out particularly well in his telling, although his condemnation is more for the hierarchies, and his most poignantly made point is the profound difference in the experience of this war between those who strategised in offices and headquarters, and those who fought on the ground. I thought a three-language film would be a bit too Brain-stretching, but in fact it's not hard to follow at all, and part of the charm of the movie is the men from 3 nations trying to understand each other.

It was fantastic to see a REALLY positive image of a priest on screen, beautifully played by Gary Lewis (who was also brilliant in Billy Elliot).

French review:       English review:

poems for Christmas: mary's song

My book on Advent and Christmas (Order from Amazon, or from the publisher) includes a good bit of poetry; one of the poems that inspired me concerning Mary's story is this lovely poem by Luci Shaw:

Blue homespun and the bend of my breast
keep warm this small hot naked star
fallen to my arms. (Rest …
you who have had so far to come.)
Now nearness satisfies
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies
whose vigor hurled a universe. He sleeps
whose eyelids have not closed before.
His breath (so slight it seems
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps
to sprout a world. Charmed by doves' voices,
the whisper of straw, he dreams,
hearing no music from his other spheres.
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed who overflowed all skies,
all years. Older than eternity, now he
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed
to my poor planet, caught
that I might be free, blind in my womb
to know my darkness ended,
brought to this birth for me to be new-born,
and for him to see me mended
I must see him torn.

Luci Shaw

more reflections on Advent and Christmas here

poems for Christmas: the journey of the magi

When writing Beginnings and Endings (a book for Advent and Christmas, available from Amazon, or from the publisher ) I drew inspiration from many poets, including T S Eliot. 

This poem was written in 1927, and is believed to reflect Eliot's own journey from agnosticism to faith.

The journey of the Magi

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For the journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.

At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.

Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins,
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death?
There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt.
I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like
Death, our death,
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

more reflections on Advent and 
Christmas here

Bah Humbug

I really, really love Christmas. I like the shiny lights and the fun of dreaming up treats and presents for people I love. I like the music, the few days of winter holiday break, I like the food and I love seeing people.

But I really don't like the kind of scary excess that occurs around Christmas - which is what I think of when I read this story from the BBC NEWS. How on earth can we need so much stuff? I also really hate it when shops and other money-making enterprises try to make Christmas begin before December has even arrived. I'm disgusted that Oxford Street has turned their lights on EVEN EARLIER this year. Does climate change mean nothing to these people? Obviously not. I have followed Dave Walker's example and written an objection in their message column, and cancelled my annual shopping trip down there this Christmas. I just can't support it. If you feel strongly about this, as I do, pop over to this link and add your tuppence worth. I have told them that I won't be shopping there this year.

Commercial Break

nice poem by David Henry, link from blind-winger jones

Commercial Break

Jesus,
they've gone and hi-jacked your birthday -
rolled it out - credit-card thin
from the trailing edges of  September
all the way to early spring -

milking it to the very last drop
until it is a pale excuse
to sell us pretty much anything -

easy payments spreading the cost
so it's barely noticeable over the years -
scarce as deep as a flurry of snow.

It's all wrapped up in ribbons and tinsel,
lights and music blurring together -

surfeits of food and drink and distractions
jading the palate to subtle flavours
of what this might be all about.

You are the one that started the show,
so what's the sense of holding a party
without inviting the principal guest?

You don't seem to mind – or you turn a blind eye -
to what we do with this winter-festival -

we're all of us in debt by January -
I guess you're bound to know
the rest....

New Year Resolutions

Last year I (rather rashly!)  posted my New Year Resolutions up on the blog.  Most of it had to do with living greener.  One year on, my household is way, way better at recycling, reducing what we accumulate, re-using, and so on. We eat better food (much more fresh and home-made food, home baked bread, and organic when we can afford it) and we plan our travel and spending in more ecologically friendly ways.

This year my son and I are resolving to tackle our car usage. We will give ourselves a weekly usage limit, and plan to leave home earlier and walk whenever possible. We are determined to cut out unnecessary car trips. I'll let you know how we get along. I may even need to learn to ride a bike.

Happy Christmas

Regular readers know that I am very bad at getting Christmas cards out on time. This year I think I managed it with about 70% of UK friends, but zilch in the international list.  I do love getting them, though. I'm always amazed at quite how many friends I have.  I usually compensate with lots of letters in the New Year, and surprise presents at random moments. It's the same with birthdays, I'm afraid.

When I was a child, we had a maiden aunt - a remarkable and wonderful woman, who always, absolutely dependably, forgot all our birthdays. But at some random time of year - May, or July, or November - a big parcel would arrive full of presents. They might say "Happy Birthday", or "Happy Christmas", regardless of the time of year. It seemed madly exciting to us to get a completely unexpected present just when life was going through a tedious moment. It was always books - she taught English literature and was absolutely up to date on the latest releases - and they were always wonderful...

the rest of this story appears in Beginnings and Endings

christmas sermon

there's a good, thought provoking post on the stuff of Christmas sermons over on Dylan's blog today. Go read. Even if you aren't preaching...

We three kings

A little diversion. 

the twelfth day of Christmas

Yesterday was the 12th and last day of Christmas, and, as it happened this year, the last day of the school holidays. We celebrated a little: a trip to see Polar Express, which was a bit mushy in places, but not without merit and being there with a kid is a good excuse to cry at a mushy movie. Then a trip to the bookshop, where we spent our Christmas tokens on Dr Seuss, and Jonathan Norrell and Mr Strange. Last of all we tripped round the sales. First, and probably last, time I've been to the sales this year: somehow the current plight of Asia makes shopping for anything more than essentials seem a bit tasteless. But we needed new jeans for my son whose legs seem to get longer by the week. We were lucky to find a few pairs of baggy, urban style jeans that were deemed "really cool!" and were shown off proudly this morning at school ("look how many pockets I've got. Cool, eh?") Thought about educating son at some point that claiming to be cool is not cool, but decided against - I much prefer warm, spontaneous and enthusiastic.

Then home to eat one last supper by the light of the Christmas Tree, and then finish off writing Christmas thank you letters while listening happily to James Taylor's Christmas Album, sent along by a friend from the States. Like mother, like son, eh? Not cool. Much happier to be warm and enthusiastic.

fifth day of Christmas: blog friends

Adam Cleaveland at Pomomusings has been spending spare moments in his college vacation designing the banner on this new blog for me. Dave Paisley, of Disaster Area, fixed up the photo of me so that it "floats".  Two excellent blogs - go check 'em out.

It's one of the things that has constantly amazed me during a year of blogging - that little partnerships of thinking, creative ideas and good turns have occurred over and over around the globe between people who still haven't met each other face to face. These two good turns are much appreciated by me: it's nice to have a blog that looks nicer, quicker, than it would left to my own devices.

Thanks Adam and Dave, and to several others who offered advice and help with design etc. when I moved blog-house.

Fourth Day of Christmas: Hibiscus and champagne

Last week I received a parcel in the mail from my sister. When I opened it yesterday it turned out to be a jar of hibiscus flowers preserved in syrup. The flowers are tiny and closed up, and dripping in red syrup that tastes a bit like raspberry. You drop one flower into the bottom of each champagne glass, and when you pour the bubbles on, the flowers open slowly. When you've finished the drink, you eat the flower. It's amazing.

CHRISTMAS 2: St Stephen's Day

This morning's sermon by The Very Reverend Dr Jeffrey John was on martyrdom and bullying, and was all I would expect from him: thoughtful, clever, succinct, and so accessible as to make something good sound easy. (But then try writing something that good yourself, and you realise it's not easy at all.)

There was a stunningly narrow-minded response to the sermon by the religious press, who chose to intepret his sermon as being a swipe at those who persuaded him to resign the Bishopric he was called to before he was consecrated. "Dr John chose martyrdom as his theme..." they said. What? Forgive me if I'm missing the point here. But it's St Stephen's Day - surely the theme was chosen for him?

I'm not naive - I know that people preach out of their own experience. But I also know that good practice in preaching leads you to edit out personal vendettas. You can't preach grace and vindictiveness in the same sermon.

Bullying is rife in the Church. Just because Jeffrey Jon is who he is doesn't automatically mean that every time he mentions a subject like this he's nailing a personal agenda. The subject of bulying is not, alas, restricted to relationships between Bishops - if only life were that simple. I've been on the receiving end of Ecclesiastical bullying many times, both from those in power and those in the rank and file: for being a woman, for being an Evangelical, for NOT being an Evangelical, for being an Anglican, for wearing robes, for not wearing robes, for just being there when someone else wanted to be there instead of me. Those stories have nothing to do with the gay debate, but they still have everything to do with Jeffrey John's sermon. Maybe I'll tell some of them sometime. But in the meantime, here's the script of the sermon (a script of the whole service is on BBC Radio 4 website):

CHRISTMAS 1: they found the baby, lying in a manger

To 21st century ears, the story of a baby in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, sounds exotic and special. It summons up the notion that Jesus was unusual - extraordinary. Normal babies have cots and clothes, but Jesus had swaddling clothes and hay. Ergo, he is not like us, but something special and different.

But the point the gospel writers were making was precisely the opposite. The baby was wrapped in swaddling clothes because that was common, everyday practice for ordinary people...

for more, see my book Beginnings and Endings