In a slum in one of the poorest parts of Mexico City, there lives a very
ordinary woman who has become famous for something very special. On the
small patch of ground outside her tumbledown shack of a home, every year she
puts up a nativity scene. The baby Jesus, in the manger, is in the centre,
of course, but around him, she puts dozens and dozens of figures - people
and animals - figures of all styles and colours and shapes and sizes; odd
figures she's collected together over the years, and continues collecting;
figures people have brought from far-away countries, figures people have
thrown away, cast-offs from other people's nativity scenes. Some are just an
inch high, others are several feet tall. But together they stand or kneel,
gathered around Jesus, the Christ child. There is space for all of them,
however diverse and different they are.

There was space in the Bethlehem stable, not just for the new-born baby, and
Mary and Joseph, for the animals and the visiting shepherds - but space too
for the magi, the wise ones, who we remember today; space for the rich, the
powerful, the clever and the complicated, as well as space for the poor, the
helpless, and the humble.

I don't know how you imagine the door to the stable, but for me it isn't a
great, grand archway - it's a small, and a low roof. For children, for those
who are bent double, for those who are used to working at ground level, it's
easy to enter, to look into the eyes of Jesus, to touch the face of God. But
for the wise men, for those who are used to standing tall, it means getting
down on your knees. For the wise men, it was difficult, but joyful; for
Herod, it proved impossible - he was too afraid of what he had to lose.

For all of us, in our ordinariness and our complexity, the doorway to the
stable is the place where we need to ask ourselves, 'what do we need to let
go of?', 'what do we need to leave behind?', 'what is the baggage, what are
the attachments, possessions, that make us too big and clumsy to enter into
God's stable-home?'. These are good questions to ask ourselves today, right
at the beginning of a new year. [And this morning, in a simple gesture, we
will lay symbols of the magi's gifts by our nativity scene, and with the
gold we will ask God to 'purify' us, to help us do whatever letting go we
need to do.]

[We will also pray, as we remember the magi's gift of myrrh, that God will
'anoint' us for the work he has for us to do.] And that will point us
towards another doorway, on the other side of the stable. This doorway takes
us back out into the world, taking the good news of Christmas with us, to
begin the work of Christmas [the work of incarnation] as we go back to
'normal life', and all that that means for us. Whenever we find ourselves
looking into the face of God, we become witnesses: we find ourselves with a
story to tell, a song to sing, good news to share. And so, as the wise men
returned home by another road, we will be sent out changed. And so at this
second doorway, we need to ask ourselves, 'where are we being sent, and to
whom?', 'what's the good news, what are the hopes, what's the story, the
song, the love we are being sent with?', 'what's different now?'.

Let me finish with one last nativity play story. It's about Simon. Simon was
from the Congo. He had joined the church two years before, but felt very
awkward about speaking in church. He was self-conscious speaking English,
and no one in the church could understand his native language, Kicongo. But
on the morning of the church nativity play, things were different.

Simon was assigned to the group of wise-folk (magicians, kings, and queens)
who were to present the new-born Jesus with gifts. Simon is very tall, and
he towered above the other wise ones. Clad in royal, magical garments, he
was clearly in the spotlight, and he seemed to enjoy it. After offering the
baby Jesus his present, he turned to the congregation and, to everyone's
surprise, burst into song: a treasured hymn from his childhood in the Congo.
And although no one else in the church that day knew a single word of
Kicongo, everyone who heard Simon's singing, and saw his awkwardness turn to
joy, heard and saw the good news of God for all people.

(Comments to Alastair at alastair.barrett@BTOPENWORLD.COM