Eventually, after who knows how long (but it seemed longer to Mary) the little boy was born. The midwife slapped his bum, cleaned him up and passed him to his mum.
I don’t think that Jesus needs Christmas. He is not diminished if people consider December 25 as a day to eat too much and to lie bloated in front of the TV rather than celebrating it as his birthday (which it almost certainly isn’t, anyway).
How do you show you love your children? Not by spending time with them, reading to them and playing silly games, but by buying them expensive presents. Things are what counts (and incidentally, an iPad makes a great baby sitter).
The Christmas story isn’t really about angels, shepherds, wise men, little donkeys or any of the other paraphenalia of Christmas, it is about the recreation of the whole world
As a child, I never understood how Jesus was a gift. I didn’t get to see him or play with him and I certainly never got to see him work any miracles.
Reading the Bible in its own cultural context is for life, not just for Christmas.
If we are going to call something a carol service, then carols should be front and centre. If your service is going to involve four carols and a 35 minute exposition of Luke 2, don’t call it a carol service.
How we present the birth of Jesus is important. It is not simply a prelude to a death (though it is that), but it is first of all the prelude to a life which challenges the basic assumptions of contemporary society.
If we really want to get back to the origins of the festival, we should consider getting uproariously drunk in front of a blazing fire and celebrating the return of the sun.