Christian Endeavour

Today is Advent Sunday and, this year, all those who open up their Advent calendars will do so on the same day that the season of Advent begins in the Church calendar. The shops and the media have been telling us for some time that Christmas is coming, but the start of Advent puts the official stamp on it. It is coming - and we can get excited and expectant, or worried and apprehensive, as the case may be. There must have been mixed emotions back in Nazareth. Not long to go before a young girl was expecting her first child, and that before the time of her betrothal had been sealed by marriage. She had just returned from visiting her cousin, Elizabeth, in Judea (Luke 1.39-40), back to wagging tongues and shaking heads of neighbours who disapproved of her situation (and wondering why she hadn’t been publicly humiliated by her fiance, even stoned to death), only to learn that she would have to make that journey back to the Judean area again, and at the precise time of her expected delivery. Yes, she had been told that she was to have a child by an angelic messenger (Luke1.26-33), and the wonder of it had been confirmed by Elizabeth (Luke 1.41-45), but it would be a difficult journey in the last days of her pregnancy, and without her mother there to help. And all because the Romans had ordered a census to be taken (Luke 2.1-3). For Mary, that first Christmas would be full of the excitement and expectation, the worry and apprehension, that many feel as we approach this Christmas in 2024. How we feel about Christmas depends on many things. We are influenced by our age. For youngsters, it is all excitement and expectation as they open their Advent calendars, excitement and expectation which grows as they see December 25 th getting nearer. Older people may be more worried about all the preparations necessary, and the cost of meeting the expectations of family and friends. I wonder if, for Mary, the problems she envisaged in those last weeks as she waited for the advent, the coming, of her baby, were overshadowed by the fact that her child was so special. The angel had identified Him as ‘the Son of the Most High’ (Luke 1.32 [NIV ]) and ‘the Son of God’ (Luke 1.35). This child could only be the long-awaited Messiah, promised by God.  Whatever our problems this Christmas, and our hopes and expectations, Advent is the assurance that we shall be celebrating the birth of God’s Son, who came into this world as a baby, to live and to die as our Saviour, as the angels were to tell the shepherds (Matt.2.11) It is true, it’s coming. Advent tells us that we have not long to wait for Christmas is on its way. But it also reminds us that we will be celebrating God’s greatest gift to us, His Christmas gift of the Lord Jesus Christ, to be our Saviour (John 1.14).

Hell on earth does exist. When we see the pictures on TV of the damage done in Gaza by Israeli military action and in Ukraine by Russian bombardment, we are surely seeing ‘hell on earth’. It is almost impossible for those of us living in peaceful countries to imagine the terror being experienced daily in those war-torn areas. In Gaza, in particular, we see the breakdown of civil society and organisations, so that obtaining the necessities of life - food, water, shelter, medical aid - becomes a daily struggle. Normal life becomes impossible. On Remembrance Day we recall those who gave their lives in the horrors of the First World War and subsequent conflicts. For many, those horrors are summed up in one name - Passchendaele - a name which has come to symbolise the horrors of the warfare in the Flanders area. Apart from pictures of men in the trenches and ‘going over the top’, it is pictures of the Passchendaele area that give the stark impression that the conflict there was indeed ‘hell on earth’. Such pictures show that the artillery bombardments reduced the woods to shattered, skeletal tree trunks, smashed the drainage systems and pockmarked the ground with shell holes. Together with the heaviest rain for 30 years, the shelling churned the ground into thick mud, turning the area into a nightmarish quagmire over which men fought and died, a quagmire which swallowed men and horses whole and has buried their remains to this day. It is no wonder that no-one can agree on the number of casualties in the three months of that battle. Estimates vary from 200,000 to 400,000 on each side. Passchendaele speaks of a never-ending hail of bullets and shells, rain and suffocating mud, truly a daily ‘hell on earth’ for those involved. The ‘hell on earth’ of Passchendaele continued in the lives of those who had lost loved ones and those who came back from the war with physical wounds and mental scars and it has been repeated in every conflict and civil war since, as the media reports about Gaza and Ukraine testify. ‘Hell on earth’ is invariably man-made, caused not only by warfare but by random acts of hatred and violence. The knife attacks on innocent civilians in the UK this year have brought the dreadful experience close to home. ‘Hell on earth’ is also caused by extremes of poverty and unemployment, by lack of foresight by individuals, companies and authorities, often in their desire to make, or save, money. The inferno at the Grenfell tower block in London 7 years ago was surely ‘hell on earth’ for those caught up in it.  On Remembrance Day, we should recall all those whose experience, in any way, was or is ‘hell on earth’, and determine to do all we can to ensure that nobody has to live in, or go through, a ‘hell on earth’ of whatever kind. Such tragedies, for nations or individuals, should have no place in our world. Wherever there is such ‘hell on earth’, created by mankind in its folly, hatred and selfishness, many would ask, ‘Where is God, the loving God of the Christians?’ Writing about the First World War, the poet S.J. Robinson put it this way : When glory came to the trenches - As an officer, shining bright – Said He'd go over the Top for us Then offered us a light Reckoned our war would soon be over And, at first, we jeered But He told us of His battle plan And took away our fear He promised to always be near us And try to keep us safe Didn't believe in us killed and sacrificed In this dark forsaken place He explained that to die was His job And that we must be content To tell others of His coming here As o'er the Top He went When Glory came to the Trenches We said, of commanders, He was alone "Well, they only came here to send you," He said "I came to take you all home "