Sermon on the Santa - on the rising of the New Moon

I'm sure you've all noticed that there is an illuminated, inflatable Santa Clause outside the Great House.  It is supposed to sing "Santa Claus is coming to town" whenever anyone passes by.  But due to another unfortunate problem with translation in a workshop (in China, I suspect, rather than Lapland) it actually sings "Bring your daughter to the slaughter".  Oh well, these things are sent to try us.  

And if, like me, you are possessed of a certain ability to string events into a logical series, you'll have noticed that every night, when it is switched on, it is full of light and air, smiling happily at us and singing its entertaining 1980s ditty.  Whereas every day, it lays limp, dark and lifeless.  Unable to raise even the weakest ho-ho-ho.

And I think in a very real sense, we are all inflatable Santas.  When the Spirit fills us we radiate light and energy.  Yet when we are removed from the source of our power, we are sadly let down.  And yet - as Chumbawumba so memorably pointed out - although we get knocked down, we get up again.  And then.... for our natures are as the cycling of th'eternal Moon - we are once again laying on the floor next to the mouse that the cat caught last night.

But it need not always be like this.  Oh no.  For one day, we will in a very real sense be packed into a cardboard box and stuck back in the loft. 

Oh dear.... I really should have thought a bit harder about this one.