A genuine hope

To turn once more towards that First Coming of the Christ is to turn towards the light, to look for illumination in the enfolding darkness.

THIS is the worst of times and the worst of times – and the worst of times are about to get even worse. Or so it seems. What is certainly true is that optimism is much harder to come by in these troubled days. (Or is it simply the case that your intrepid reporter in the Orkney Isles has succumbed to the enfolding winter darkness that characterises this time of year in the north?) Anything is possible these days. A recent survey showed that seven percent of the UK population is aff ected by seasonal aff ective disorder (SAD), a type of depression that materialises during the winter months when hours of daylight and levels of sunlight are at a minimum.

A further 17 per cent are said to be aff ected by a milder form of the disorder called subsyndromal SAD, but more commonly known as plain old winter blues. I thought you’d like to know this as you sit in your thermal Onesie, contemplating your mortality and wondering whether it’s worth getting up at all today.(Remember the old Fife mantra: If at first you don’t succeed, pull the blankets ow’er yer heid.)

Having said all this, the Victor Meldrewesque opening to this column has a much wider resonance outside of the northern isles. There is a feeling in our land that things are falling apart and the centre cannot hold, to reference the great W B Yeats. I’m talking about a deep malaise, a profound unease about the current state of things. Let’s name one or two key indicators: the rise in crimes of violence, the deteriorating language of public discourse, the prevalence of road rage, the pervasiveness of mental health problems, especially among young people, and the failures of political leadership on a national and international front. In the face of all this, what do we need? More light in our darkness. Where have we seen it before? In Bethlehem. When do we need it? Now, In the bleak midwinter of our discontent.

All this is to say that at root, our problems are spiritual. Achingly so. The current crisis is about values and ultimate meaning. If all news is deemed to be “fake news” and all values are relativised, we are headed towards a nihilistic culture that is a breeding ground for despair. To quote Yeats’ poem Second Coming again: “Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world”.

To turn once more towards that First Coming of the Christ is to turn towards the light, to look for illumination in the enfolding darkness. What we don’t need is a chirpy optimism that whistles in the dark. The story of Christ’s birth must not be sentimentalised; the shadow of the Cross lies over the cradle right from the start. This cuddly baby will grow up to throw the money changers out of the temple, to off end the righteous, to kiss the lepers, to eat with tax collectors and sinners, to die at the hands of church and state, and to rise in glory, with healing in his wings.

What we need this Christmastide is not manic cheerfulness or cheap religion, but a genuine hope that is grounded in tough realities, bathed in a light that faces the darkness but is never overwhelmed by it. O Come Let us Adore Him.