As I write this meditation, once again, a candle flickers in front of me through the painted glass of a small Christmas bowl. However, the scene on the bowl is different from the one I described in my last blog. In the background is a winter landscape with snow-capped hills and a starry sky, while in the foreground are large red candles with welcoming flames. Light in the winter darkness: the flame of faith, however feeble and fearful, still aglow, like the stars glistening in the black immensity of the winter night.  

It is a different bowl because I am in a different place. I am spending Christmas with my family in Leeds in West Yorkshire. The Hungarian candle bowl was a gift from me to them from several Christmases ago. No doubt on his travels with his military campaigns, Marcus wrote his “Meditations’ by the light of different candle bowls too. Or perhaps he paused, shrouded in furs, to look out of his tent at the winter stars in the expanse of darkness. Perhaps he did this in the Buda hills on his conquest of Pannonia (what is now Hungary). Perhaps he reflected on Nature, what he called the ‘All in All’, the one God behind the universe. For he had sensed that there was a bigger cosmic force than in the traditional Roman pantheon.

Christmas is about travelling. On my way here by train, I noticed that people were travelling with large luggage and extra bags even though they may only be staying at their destination for a few days over the holiday. Their bags were probably filled with gifts for family and friends. It can be an exasperating and annoying time for the traveller with the weight of the luggage and sometimes disrupted journeys, possibly underpinned by the emotional anxiety of travelling home to loved ones. For as my nephew Adam observed today, ‘Christmas is not about presents. It is about family.’

So many people at this time of year going on a journey. A journey of love or at least affection. At the heart of the Christmas story is Mary and Joseph’s journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem: a journey they were forced to take by law, to obey the Roman census. Later in the story they were forced to make another journey, into Egypt, to avoid the violence of Herod. They became refugees from violence, they sought asylum, they were for a brief period, immigrants. They were forced to make several journeys they did not wish to make. Perhaps at this time of comfort and joy, we should take a moment to think of those who are making similar journeys at this time and commit ourselves to helping them in some small way.  

Many years ago, I heard a talk at the National Theatre on London’s South Bank. It was given by the legendary Scottish theatre director, Bill Bryden. In his talk, he said that one of his approaches to directing a play was to find each character’s  journey through the play -something I have found useful in my own directing and teaching. This is true of life too. We are all on a journey through life. For some of us it is a pilgrimage.  And there are moments when, like the three wise men in the Christmas story, we need a guiding star. I found this to be true as my life pattern changed when I retired last year. In a way I was beginning another stage of my journey but it was unchartered territory. I needed to seek advice and affirmation from lots of my friends – for which many thanks. They were my guiding stars. We can be a guiding star for others, indeed it is our duty and responsibility to be so.

Perhaps we should, like Marcus, also find a moment to step out into the winter’s night and contemplate the stars in the immensity of the darkness and seek the ‘All in All’ there; the ‘All in All’ who became a defenceless refugee child for our sakes.

Merry Christmas, my dear readers.

Ave atque Vale until the next blog.

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Many thanks

Neilus Aurelius