In the Beginning

... were some confusing words that many of us hear every year.

Last night, I went to Wells Cathedral for a carol service. It was wonderful. Rather than the traditional Nine Lessons and Carols, we enjoyed six. There is no theological reason why it should be either nine or six, though seven is holy number, as is twelve. But twelve lessons and carols? Too long. My children, at least, were grateful for six.

John 1 was one of the lessons that survived the cull, as you’d expect. Hearing it took me back to December 1992 and Bath Abbey. As a prefect in my final year, I was chosen to read John 1:1-18 at the school carol service.

My school was just outside Bath and had it’s own chapel, but for some reason, we all climbed on coaches and traipsed off to Bath Abbey for our carol service. We did not seem to have any meaningful connection to the Abbey, but it probably made the parents feel like they were getting value for money.

I wasn’t nervous. Bath Abbey isn’t exactly St Paul’s Cathedral. I’d been there plenty of times before, including previous carol services and other commemorative services. In fact, I had been part of a small group of trumpet players who occasionally kicked off hymns with fanfares from the organ loft.

Fanfares

Perhaps the memory of these fanfares have melded with John 1 in my mind. As you read the first few verses of John’s gospel, you can almost hear Aaron Copeland’s Fanfare for a Common Man playing in the background. This fanfare begins with very simple notes just as John begins with very simple words. There are no weird place names, no governors like Quirinius mentioned, no long theological words ending in ‘tion’ and no long list of hard to pronounce Hebrew names like Amminadab and Jehoshaphat (thanks, St Matthew). John starts his gospel like this:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.

What could be more straightforward? We know what all of those words mean. Beginning. Word. God. Simple. And yet it sounds very mysterious.

The fanfare continues:

All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men.

Easy words again. Things. Made. Life. Light. Men. Easy. And yet their simplicity belies a deeper mystery, especially as the words are woven together into something more complex. Fanfares do the same as they go on.

As I read those words aloud in Bath Abbey, I was in the dark. I had comprended them not. I have no doubt I was a Christian at the time. But the opening words of John’s Gospel remained enigmatic to me. I was probably not alone in this. Given I was reading the words, I was paying attention, but the hundreds there probably just allowed the words to wash over them. They are comforting to hear in Advent because you know hot chocolates, mince pies and spicy fruity drinks are not far away. But what do the words mean?

In Plain Sight

I was making a mistake that many make when approaching the Bible. I had become bogged down in the complexity very quickly and failed to see the obvious, or assume that the obvious couldn’t be the main point. So what is the main point?

Do those verses remind you of anything? The verse that starts ‘In the beginning’? Like all literature, or art of any kind, there are symbols, phrases and moments designed to make you think of another time and place, or character or situation. This is an area I plan to write about much more in the future. (So please subscribe to this newsletter!)

To a British reader, the phrases ‘Lovely jubbly’ and ‘I don’t believe it’ almost certainly conjur up an image of optimistic wheeler dealer Del Boy Trotter, and grumpy old man Victor Meldrew. Words, phrases and pictures have connotations.

Where have you read ‘In the beginning’ before? How about in the beginning? In the book of Genesis. John’s not being subtle. He uses ‘in the beginning’ twice. Moreover, there a plenty of other references to the creation narrative. How does God create in Genesis 1? Remember the repetition of ‘And God said…’ and ‘Let there be…’? God creates by speaking. Words. In the beginning was the Word.

Through these words, God gives life. He creates light. It’s not complicated, is it? John is taking us back to the birth of the universe. And who was there? Jesus was. Because He Is. 

From Here To Eternity (and back again)

The Jesus that came into the world at Christmas is eternal. We know what those words mean. And it’s not hard to understand. But it’s almost impossible to fully comprehend. In many ways, nearly thirty years on from reading that lesson in Bath Abbey, I’m still none the wiser. The eternal nature of Jesus still doesn’t fit into my finite, limited brain. And as my brain has developed, and my eyes have read more books and I’ve lived more life and I’ve reflected more on God’s Word, Jesus keeps getting bigger. But that’s probably a good thing.

One day, as John tells us in his Revelation of the Apocalypse, we will see him face to face and be with him. And then we’ll understand. So that’s something to look forward to.

Until then, even though the Four Horseman appear to have saddled up and stalked the land, we wait for Christ to return and enjoy the blessings already given to us. Despite the restrictions, disappointments, frustrations and bereavements, we are still able to do that.

Merry Christmas.