24/12/2025
Writing in today's Telegraph, Archbishop Stephen believes that the story of Christmas has changed and can change the world again. It is what the world needs.
Some years ago, I was amused to hear a priest tell me that at one of their services over Christmas a family had asked whether they could place their relatively new-born baby in the crib and take a photograph. At first, it seemed just one of those slightly wacky stories and strange requests that clergy experience fairly regularly. But I've not been able to get it out of my head. At the church in question, the crib was a large one. It was before Christmas, and as they hadn't yet placed their own statue of the Christ child in the manger, there was room for the baby. Apparently, the parents also got in on the act. Someone took a picture: Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, the angels and this little family as well.
I don't know what their motives were. On the one hand, nowadays, nothing seems real unless it is captured on camera and packaged for social media (this year, on one of several visits to Rome, I even saw nuns taking selfies of themselves beside the open coffin of Pope Francis) but on the other, in a culture where so much is ephemeral, it speaks of a deep longing to get inside the story of Christmas, because whether we believe it or not, its beauty and its cultural persistence keep reaching out to us, touching us in places that feel barren and neglected. And maybe this is happening more than ever this Christmas?
So, is it true that God came down to earth on Christmas Day? That heaven touched earth? That the child in the manger is the Son of God? Is it true that Mary’s obedience has changed the course of history and that her child is destined for the falling and rising of many and has come to lead us home?
I do believe these things. I believe they have changed and can change the world again. They are what the world needs.
This Christmas, it is my strong feeling that many people are longing for something deeper than endless tinsel, too much food, piped carols, dazzling lights with nothing behind them, and the suffocating dopamine rush of purchasing stuff that we don’t need and those whom we are purchasing for don’t want. And there are only so many schmaltzy movies that any one person can bear.
Graham Greene once wrote that if you are going to jump, make sure the water is deep. This has been my quote of the year, appearing in many sermons I've delivered. Moreover, there is all sorts of evidence to suggest that many people, especially younger people, are engaging with the depths of Christian tradition in new ways. Christmas, therefore, provides an opportunity for a profound consideration of what it means to say that God was made man in Bethlehem. For if, as Christians believe, God has hallowed humanity and made heaven possible though the Incarnation of Jesus, this changes how we understand ourselves, what our lives mean and where they are going. It also presents a challenge. The values we so prize in British society do not exist in a vacuum. They flow from and are shaped by the Christian narrative which begins in Bethlehem. Ethos and values – things every parent wants for their children – flow from beliefs and practices. Take away the beliefs and practices and the values themselves are in peril. This is something the secular mind stubbornly resists. But quite simply, it is because of who God is in Jesus and because of Jesus’ teaching that we have come to believe in the dignity of every human person. Without these beliefs it is all too easy to just believe in ourselves.
Therefore, because of who Jesus is and because of what Jesus teaches, we love our neighbour. And because Jesus was born in a manger and because the Holy Family had nowhere to stay and had been summoned from their homes by a poll tax census, we care for the homeless and the poor, and do not believe it right to leave them behind or blame them for their poverty. And because the Holy Family fled persecution themselves and found refuge in a foreign land, we care for the excluded, the neglected and the stranger in our midst.
The name “Christ” means “Anointed One” — the one chosen for a special purpose. For Christians, the child of Bethlehem is that figure, bringing purpose, justice and a reversal of the world’s values: the hungry filled, the lowly lifted high, a world reshaped by care for the overlooked and the outcast.
That message was never meant for one tribe, faith or nation, but for everyone. When Jesus speaks of home, safety and dignity, He speaks to the whole human family.
If we want to put “Christ” back into Christmas, if that is the depth we are seeking, then we begin here: in a stable in Bethlehem; a baby in a manger; a refugee family; and a message of peace that embraces everyone, especially the stranger. Everyone is invited in. Everyone has something to learn about themselves and about their neighbour. Everyone has something to receive about their own beloved-ness in Christ.
Finally, for the Church itself I note that at the heart of the Christmas story is a vulnerable new-born child. This is the lesson we learn as we come to Bethlehem. To put the needs of the vulnerable first.
