Christingles were apparently a 18th century protestant initiative to symbolise the Gospel with something other than a depiction of a man dying on a cross. There are, of course quite a lot of Nativities too, but it’s fair, I suggest, to complain that in the Church’s visual imagery and arguably in its liturgy, the Crucifixion has trumped the Nativity and Resurrection. We cannot, of course, have the one without the other, but one could be forgiven for thinking western Christianity has been much more about our personal sinfulness and the strange way in which Christ’s death achieves our redemption than the joyful and much more remarkable renewal that is the Resurrection which transforms our lives along with the whole of creation.
The Christingle, tries to put this right. The candle on top symbolises light and perhaps light shining in the darkness of December, overcoming that darkness as the Resurrection overcomes death. The orange symbolises the world and one suspects was chosen because it’s round and bright and citrus fruits are ripe in the dark months of winter but also, I fancifully think, as in Goethe’s famous song, that the oranges in the south glow among the dark foliage. I hope that downstairs they are also studding the oranges with dried fruit on cocktail sticks; it’s harder to allegorise marshmallows.
The Christingle is not, however, all brightness, sweetness and joy; it is encircled by a thin red ribbon, reminiscent of that worn round the slender necks of young ladies of the original Jeunesse Doree reacting to and mocking the Terror during the French Revolution. Those young people had survived without the guillotine taking off their heads. In the Christingle the red ribbon symbolises the sacrifice on the cross. But it possibly carries too a memory of the red cord which Rahab the Prostitute hung from her window in the wall of Jericho which saved her and her family from the massacre to come. I hope the children are spared any such reflections and concentrate on the light and sweet.
Upstairs, our readings today introduce the now adult John the Baptist and links to Christingles are not obvious. What is apparent from Luke’s narrative is the comparisons and distinctions that he makes between John and Jesus. John’s good news would have a profound influence on Christianity; Jesus’, of course, rather more so, but perhaps John’s legacy has been as strong in some areas. I want to suggest that sinfulness and repentance have been overplayed at least in the Catholic West.
John and Jesus have many similarities, both, for example, are keen on late Isaiah, but here the major distinction appears; for John is “The voice of one crying in the wilderness; Prepare the way of the Lord…”; for Jesus, in the synagogue at Capernaum, it is “The spirit of the Lord is upon me. Because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor…”. John is preaching a baptism of repentance as a preparation for Jesus coming; Jesus announces the arrival of the Kingdom. Continuing from the Isaiah quotation, John’s preaching goes on to threaten the consequences of a failure to repent and amend life; the axe is laid at the root of unfruitful trees; the Christ has the winnowing fork in his hand, to sift the chaff from the wheat.
Jesus’ Good News does use some this threatening language; like the householder we need to keep awake to be ready for the (second) coming. There is, however, another, almost contradictory message in Jesus’ teaching. Its most vivid expression is at Capernaum. It emphasises the arrival of the Kingdom, not something we are waiting for, but something that has happened, which Jesus describes in parables and in sermons, laying out a new morality extending and deepening the Mosaic Law. It’s a message about how we are to behave now.
While Jesus’ healing miracles are often mixed up with forgiveness, he seldom seems to encourage repentance. For John the point of repentance is to enable amendment of life and the good behaviour, fairness and generosity expected of all of us and a necessary preparation for the arrival of the Christ or Messiah.
Thus the emphasis in both John’s and Jesus’ teaching is on righteous behaviour or Good Work simply as a consequence of the arrival of the Kingdom of God and sin as something which tends to alienate or exclude us from the Kingdom. It’s odd then that this message has for so long been slightly distorted and given different priority in the Church’s teaching, and Christian practice. Good Works have of course been encouraged but often been treated as part of a transaction, to purchase forgiveness now, or to buy reduced time for self or others in purgatory. This is perhaps not now formal doctrine, but the idea lingers.
Liturgically, until happily revised in our times, our Anglican prayer book has been obsessed with sin- obsession is not too strong a term for the unremittingly penitential tone of the BCP Communion service, which encourages an unhealthy wallowing in guilt. The visual predominance of the crucifixion is I suggest, an aspect of this attitude; the crucifixion has been regarded, grotesquely, as redemption by purchase which needs-or rather, needed- to be kept always before us as a terrible reminder of our sinfulness.
Of course, depictions of the crucifixion can rise above this, and I am not- you will be relieved to hear- really suggesting that a Christingle should be placed on every altar in place of the crucifix. Nevertheless, the Christingle with its positive emphasis on fruitfulness and light is a useful image and one which with its gay but slightly sinister red ribbon, reminds us that sin and suffering must be acknowledged before we can experience and live out the joy of salvation.
I am sure our children’s efforts, when we see them, will inspire us to see the light of salvation shining above a world which, despite the many dark leaves trying to smother it, yet glows like oranges on a tree in the mediterranean sunshine.
Amen