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The poet Mary Oliver’s ‘Instructions for living a life’ from her poem Sometimes, will, I think, help to shape our reflections about this feast of the Epiphany which we celebrate today.  In a line from that poem, she says: “Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.

Christmas is a time when you often notice how much people have grown. Like my nephew who seems to have grown a foot since I last saw him only a few months ago, or like my niece who I can remember so clearly holding as a baby and now is almost 18.

The Christmas story in Luke’s gospel comes in two parts. The first part tells us what’s wrong with the world.

Tonight God gives us his word. God says, ’Trust me. I am showing you the deepest truth at the heart of your life. I am giving you the most precious gift in the world.’

From an early age almost all of us have a craving for attention. A young child will sit at the top of the slide and say ‘Look at me!’ insistently before settling for the secondary pleasure of actually descending to the bottom.

There’s two problems with the Christian story, from the point of view of its detractors, yet just as much in the minds of the many who do believe, but still doubt.

Yesterday in this church we held the service for those bereaved by homicide. To prepare for this service I read a BBC report entitled London Homicides, the Victims of 2018. The report lists those killed through murder or manslaughter in the last year in London alone, and in many gives photos of those killed

Picture a massive road building project cutting through hills and valleys to create a new straight, level road. The vision from Isaiah that John the Baptist quotes in our Gospel reading is one that seems to require bulldozers. It reads like the specification for a new motorway or by-pass. “Get the road ready … make a straight path for travel.” “Every valley must be filled up” and “every hill and mountain levelled off.” It doesn’t sound very environmentally friendly but, like the current project on the A14, may result in major archaeological finds.   

There’s an improvisation game that actors play, called Headteacher, which goes like this. The teacher arrives late carrying the register and a pair of glasses. He starts to quieten down the class, but when he puts his glasses on he sees not a class but the school governors. He rapidly heads to the door, but the door sticks and he struggles to open it. Eventually he escapes, but re-enters the room a short while later, taking it to be the staff room.