The latest film to come from Richard Curtis’ pen, the creator of Blackadder, The Vicar of Dibley and Four Weddings and a Funeral, takes love as its theme. Love Actually hit the box offices in November and it begins with a statement. It reminds us that there is so much war and hatred around that we can forget that the most powerful force in the world is still love. It recalls those mobile phone messages from the passengers on the planes that crashed into the twin towers which were messages of love and when we are up against it what matters most to us will be foremost on our minds.

Some have dismissed this as being sickly and sentimental rubbish. I can hear the voice of Scrooge calling ‘Bah, humbug’! Of course, there are sentimental moments in the film, well it is a film, but there is an important reminder here that takes us to the heart of Christmas and challenges the cynicism that can grind us down.

If you have seen the film you will know that it explores love through a variety of settings. We see the manager who acts foolishly by buying an expensive gift for the secretary who has a serious crush on him and so manages to cause his wife much heartache at the same time. We see the way the couple’s love can work through this and this is mixed with the craziness that is domestic normality. We see the woman whose mobile phone keeps ringing interfering with her private life. She turns out to have a brother in a psychiatric ward and spends long hours caring for him in a way that takes us way beyond sentimental notions of what love is. We are given the prime minister, in the guise of Hugh Grant, who tells the American president that special relationships must be two sided and have to be able to take being said ‘no’ to. Avoiding the obvious allusion, there is even a hint here at love as a political dynamic. These together with the romantic and impulsive - how does Colin Firth manage to get a flight on Christmas Eve, we’re not told that bit - these diverse glimpses draw us to look at, well, love actually.

We’ve had a year where this claim that love is the strongest force in the world has taken quite a bashing. We’ve had a war; we’ve had continued terrorist threats and actual violence; we’ve had the trial of Ian Huntley for the murder of the two girls in Soham; we’ve had and have the prospect of the BNP peddling their racist policies at elections; we’ve had or are having debates about holding terrorist suspects in detention without trial or charge - these are not even subject to judicial review. If we are not careful we allow terrorists to win by adopting similar practices or policies that themselves erode justice and freedom, the justice and freedom terrorism threatens. Proclaiming love as the most powerful force has always been radical and has seemed to fly in the face of the evidence.

Yet unsung, in between the headlines, are tales of loving and caring, of self-sacrifice and generosity, of hospitality and welcome. These are tales of everyday living and take place in millions of houses and offices around the world, on street corners and in places well away from the gaze of cameras. Even behind the headlines we find the complexities of love.

As I read the reports on the Soham trial, Maxine Carr’s story began to sound so very familiar. From the outside, from an emotional distance, we wonder why someone would stay in an abusive and controlling relationship. But many women do this. Often it is because they have a very low self esteem and delude themselves in order to prevent rocking the boat and thus having to face what seems to them to be an even bigger nightmare they don’t want to face. The lies this led to became Maxine Carr’s down fall. It is a sad tale with deep roots. It is not unknown even for a mother not to believe her daughter that the father or uncle or boyfriend is an abuser. It is as if a circuit-breaker trips in the brain preventing a power-overload, when for a detached outsider the penny would have dropped sooner without the emotional baggage getting in the way. Whether that is Maxine Carr’s story, I don’t know, but it is a familiar tale where collateral damage spreads out.

Love is a complicated force and it is rarely pure. We live in a flawed world and we call that flaw sin. So proclaiming that love is the most powerful force in the world has to be able to cope with this or it is just a fantasy and this celebration becomes part of a delusion.

The power of love comes through in its durability. Somehow it just manages to win through and spring up in the most unlikely places. It is exceptionally vulnerable, as vulnerable as a newborn baby, but somehow it survives, thrives and flourishes. What is more when it is absent things fall apart. Hatred brings death in so many ways, but love brings life. And it just does. It is as if it is the default setting for the universe that somehow manages to reinstate itself when we tamper with the settings and mess it up. In short I just believe it is true that love is the most powerful force.

The child in the manger we celebrate tonight points to the power of love over hatred. As we explore the gospels, which tell his story, we find that this flaw running through the heart of our life, what we call sin, is faced head on. Its consequences which would be death become life and the prospect of new life is held out to us all in his death and resurrection. As we proclaim this to be true, we turn this winter solstice festival into a celebration of the greatest gift of all.

‘The light shines in the darkness and the darkness is not able to overcome it’. This was John’s reflection on the mystery of Christmas (John 1:1-14), which we heard read in our gospel a few moments ago. It is still valid today and proclaims that love is the most powerful force in the world. It is the love of God that creates us, that holds us and redeems us. In this light, I wish you the true peace and joy of Christmas; the peace and joy of God who is love... actually.

© Ian Black 2003

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