We have now reached the end of our Advent journey. The candles on the Advent wreath guided us on our way. Today we lit the last of the candles. While the candles guided us, the scriptures provided us with a commentary on that journey. The scriptures introduced us to the characters who prepared themselves and their world for that first Christmas. Outstanding among these characters are Isaiah, the OT prophet, John the Baptist, God's messenger Gabriel, Joseph the carpenter, and of course above all, Mary herself and her cousin Elizabeth. In that famous visitation scene from Luke's gospel, Mary and her cousin Elizabeth celebrate what God has already done for them and what he is about to do, through them, for the world. That same scene has been repeated every day when women trade their intimacies and rejoice in each other's support and companionship. Here two women rejoice in their great fortune and share a laugh at their unconventional predicament: a virgin and a barren woman will soon give birth.

But in the meantime, they must both prepare. Their homes must become appropriate nurturing places for their eagerly awaited offspring. This same challenge confronts all parents. But Nazareth had an additional dimension: because it was in Nazareth that the dream of God would begin to take shape. And Mary, together with Joseph, would be the central figures in weaving that divine dream.

Nazareth was the home of God. For us the word `home' is a warm word. We strongly associate it with such elements as security, belonging and understanding. Home is where the journey of life begins and where refuge is found in times of turbulence. Home then is a sacred sort of word to most of us. As Evelyn Waugh observed: "Home is the place that will take your in when everyone else has kicked you out." At Christmas time home takes on a particularly warm glow. But, unfortunately, "home" can also be a deceptive word, concealing under a benign veneer the darker dimensions of family life. Normal homes, quiet and familiar, are often the scenes of abnormal happenings. They produce disfigured people, in an emotional and spiritual sense. And it all goes on without being noticed. It is only in teens or early adulthood that the damage manifests itself.

Such negligence need not even be intentional. For example, a dead marriage can quietly kill off the soul and imagination of a child. And often a marriage that can stand up in social terms, is long dead beneath the surface. Ironically, this happens often where the parents sacrifice their marriage in order to give everything to their children. But they neglect nurturing their sense of wonder at each other's difference.

As they get too used to each other, their affinity disappears and the home becomes a dead place. Often the reason teenagers can't reach their parents is that the parents have forgotten how to reach each other. The Christmas child comes with healing. His own family was his powerhouse. It is difficult for us to grasp this without sentimentalising it. Even the words `Holy Family' are from another generation, concealing rather than revealing the reality of family life. But despite the redundant language, this family remains an unusual and fascinating one. It certainly was not a conventional home in our understanding of the term. But then again, the story of Bethlehem and Nazareth, highlights once again God's consistent habit of smashing our narrow expectations. Christmas is wonderful, because it is filled with wonder. May we rediscover the child in us again this Christmas.

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