(New Year’s Day)

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
eight maids a-milking…

The eight maids a-milking are said to represent the Eight Beatitudes, spoken by Jesus at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit…
Blessed are those who mourn…”
— Matthew 5:3–4

It is no accident that these blessings begin where the world would rather not look. The Beatitudes do not celebrate strength, success, or certainty. They name those who are grieving, gentle, exhausted, hungry for justice, and still trying to make peace.

Milking is quiet, repetitive, necessary work. It does not draw attention to itself, yet it sustains life. There are no shortcuts—only presence, patience, and care.

And today is New Year’s Day.

The world invites us to begin again with goals, resolutions, and pressure to become better, faster, stronger. We are told to optimise ourselves, fix what is broken, and move forward with confidence.

The Beatitudes offer a different beginning.

Broken Theology hears them not as commands, but as a naming of reality: God’s blessing already rests among the weary, the disappointed, the hopeful-but-unsure. The new year does not begin with triumph, but with tenderness.

As we cross the threshold into another year marked by uncertainty—economic anxiety, political unrest, environmental concern—the Beatitudes gently interrupt our urge to control the future. They remind us that blessing is not something we earn by improvement, but something we receive as we are.

This is not a rejection of hope.
It is a deeper one.

A hope rooted not in becoming exceptional, but in staying human.

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May this new year bless
the gentle work of your days—
God close in the ordinary.