Sermon-God has crossed the threshold

The Nativity, Edward Burne Jones, 1888

A homily given at Midnight Mass at St Olave Hart Street on Wednesday 24th December 2025 based on the text of Isaiah 9.2-7, Luke 2.1-20 and drawing on Richard Crashaw’s poem ‘Welcome all wonders’. 

Midnight! 

 

It’s is a funny time isn’t it! Not really yesterday and not quite tomorrow. A sort of in between time. 

 

The “in-between” is in our DNA here at St Olave Hart Street! Dedicated to a Viking warrior who became a saint - the first healing miracle attributed to Olaf here was recorded in the twelfth century. The English poet John Betjeman described this place as a country church in the heart of the City. This is a place where apparently polar opposites such as these are held together in a holy tension. Where it all belongs. Where all God’s wondrous creatures are welcomed. 

 

Tonight this midnight hour - that in-between time in this in-between place turns into an in-between sort of space. As we gather in this beautiful medieval church, the hive of activity that is the City of London is coming to a halt outside. The buses and trains have stopped running. Life slows to a walking speed. (Now - if that comes as a complete surprise to you, do not fear! As well as security guards, church musicians and priests, taxi drivers are also working tonight - so if you don’t feel like walking home, all shall be well!)

 

Scripture and science both tell us that these in-between - or threshold moments - really matter. 

 

Our brain is apparently most receptive to growth in the liminal hours between sleep and wakefulness. This is the time when new connections are most easily made by our neurons - new ideas, new possibilities are born in us. 

 

Christmas starts in such a space.

 

The prophet Isaiah speaks of a whole people encountering their saviour at such a time. While walking in darkness they suddenly see a great light. They are not yet in full daylight -  but something has begun to change. Light has broken in. It is like the moment just before dawn — between sleep and wakefulness - not the end of the night, but no longer complete darkness either.

 

The Gospel places us in that same in-between time and space. The shepherds are out in the fields, at night. Awake while others sleep. Living away from the towns and villages on the edge of society. It is here that the heavens open and the angels appear with their astonishing message. Addressed to them. These people who exist in that in-between space every day. 

 

“To you is born this day a Saviour.” 

 

The shepherds are afraid. While the light has broken in, they are still surrounded by darkness. But in that moment, new possibilities have been born in them and which move them to act. To change. 

 

Once the angels have departed, they declare: 

 

“Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.”

 

They choose to cross the threshold. From hearing the Good News to acting upon it - going to see it for themselves. 

 

When they arrive in Bethlehem they find a child. A tiny newborn. Fragile. Vulnerable. Lying in a manger. 

 

Isaiah prophesied that all authority rests upon his shoulders. Strength hidden in weakness. 

 

Glory in a dirty manger.

 

God has crossed the threshold. 

 

Christ our saviour is born. 

 

Many of us may feel we are standing at a threshold here tonight. Perhaps you are far from home, visiting London - this church - for the first time. Perhaps you are tired, lonely, carrying worries and burdens that don’t magically disappear once we start hearing Christmas music in the shops. Perhaps you are not sure why you are here. Not sure what you believe. 

 

That is all OK. Remember - this is a place where apparently polar opposites are held together in a holy tension. Where it all belongs. Where we all belong. 

 

Christmas doesn’t require us to have everything rationalised and worked out in our brains. It asks us to pause long enough to recognise - to feel in our gut - that we are standing at a threshold - a doorway. All of us. Again. Right here, right now. Still surrounded by darkness and uncertainty but with a light to guide us. 

 

And like the shepherds that first Christmas night - like the poet Richard Crashaw whose words opened this service - we can choose welcome this light - this wonder into our lives, into our hearts. This:

 

“Great little one whose all-embracing birth brings earth to heaven,
stoops heaven to earth.”

 

God has crossed the threshold.
Glory has entered the mess of human life.
The Word has become flesh and lives among us.

 

Christmas is not just a time or a place. It’s a space. One we are invited to step into. 

 

The shepherds did not stay where they were.

They crossed the threshold —
from hearing to going,
from fear to wonder,
from night to light.

 

Tonight, we are invited to do the same.

 

God has crossed the threshold.
Now let Christ be born in us today.