Christ Church - Words and Thoughts

On this page, and sub-pages we present the sermons delivered at Christ Church, as well as the thoughtful and thought provoking homilies Virginia Smith provided us with nearly every week since August 2020.  These homilies from August 2020 to May 2002 are still available by clicking here Virginia Smith’s Homilies May 2022 - April 2021 or Virginia Smith’s Homilies March 2021 - August 2020.

2024

October - Harvest Festival Month
Being of a curious nature I thought I would look up the origin of the word 'harvest'  to discover that it comes from  Old and Middle  English  and  was understood primarily to be the name of one of the four seasons. It was only in the mid-thirteenth century that it came to be understood, and hence firmly established, as meaning the time for the gathering of crops while the word autumn replaced it to denote the season itself. And now a question for you; when was the custom of holding Harvest Festival Services first begun? The answer is, perhaps surprisingly, not until 1843  when the Reverend Robert Walker, the  vicar of Morwenstow  in Cornwall, introduced to his parish such a service with special hymns giving thanks for the harvest, thanks for the bounty of the fields and orchards and for all God’s goodness in Creation.  An innovation which quickly caught on in the ritual of the church’s year, which has led to the delight of beautifully decorated churches filled with flowers, fruit and vegetables and some wonderful harvest hymns being written and composed.
Virginia Smith

Sunday October 20
Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here.

9.00am Communion

Mark 10: 35-45
I feel a bit sorry for James and John in this story from the Gospel, to be honest. I think they have had an unnecessarily harsh press throughout history because of this passage.
They come to Jesus and, in verse 35, we read their request: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you”. And then they get short shrift from Jesus, and the rest of the disciples get angry with them. But in actual fact, they are only doing what Jesus had said to them previously. 
In Matthew 7:7, Jesus says, “Ask, and it shall be given to you…” In John 14:13, Jesus says, “I will do whatever you ask in my name…” So, to be fair to James and John, they must have been a bit confused by the whole situation. Jesus is telling the disciples to ask for things and then, when they do, they get told off and they go down through 2,000 years of history as being bad, selfish, egotistical people. It all seems a bit harsh, really…
And what about the request they make to Jesus: what do we make of this, in verse 36: “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory”. 
Again, that doesn’t seem like an unreasonable request. They didn’t have the benefit of hindsight like we do. As far as they knew, Jesus would be heading to Jerusalem to set up the Kingdom of God by overthrowing Roman rule and renewing the role of the Temple in traditional Judaism. 
They were expecting political and spiritual conflict and they were being loyal to Jesus and standing with him in this new world order and so it seems only reasonable that they should think that some rewards will be given in the glorious time to come.
So I want us to be fair to James and John here and not demonise them as selfish, arrogant disciples who thought that they were deserving of the greatest honour. Instead, they were merely doing what Jesus had said for them to do: ask for things – and they were loyally standing with Jesus as he headed towards Jerusalem.
I think it’s helpful to see James and John like this because, in this way, I think we can identify better with them.
The truth is that most times when we pray and ask God for things, we are not being particularly arrogant or selfish or egotistical. We are merely expressing to God what we think we need for a happy life or expressing to God what we think would be helpful in a particular situation. Perhaps what we express is right, perhaps it is wrong: but it is rarely driven by arrogance and selfish ego.
Of course, we read in verse 41 that the other disciples were angry with them – but that’s not because their motivations were any different or purer than that of James and John but because they thought they might have been pipped at the post for the seats in glory and that they would be missing out for themselves.
So when we read Jesus’ words by way of response, I don’t think he is telling them off, actually. Instead, he is being gentle with them and he is using this opportunity to teach them what is important in the Kingdom of God: a lesson they needed to learn, and a lesson we need to be constantly reminded of. And what we need to be reminded of are the two hallmarks of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus.
And the first is this:
1. To be a Christian means to totally submit ourselves to the will of God
James and John had asked for positions of glory for their faithfulness to Jesus but, in verse 38, he simply says, “You do not know what you are asking”. And then he draws on two metaphors that James and John would have understood only too well: Jesus says, “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?”
Well, the cup that Jesus was about to drink was suffering and death: he prays in Mark’s Gospel, “Lord, take this cup away from me”. And the notion of baptism in the contemporary Greek language of James and John’s day referred to being overcome with calamity and disaster, for example, in Luke 12:50, Jesus says, “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!”
So Jesus is saying to James and John, “I am about to be overcome by a huge calamity through which I will suffer and die. Can you go through that?”
And what is the response that James and John give in verse 39? “We are able”.
Now how is that for courage of the first order? They have decided to stay with Jesus regardless of what he might suffer. So forget any sense that James and John are to be ridiculed or despised as a result of their selfish request in this passage. Instead, we should respect them and honour them for their courage and loyalty, despite knowing that calamity and suffering and death would befall them too.
And Jesus knows that, and he says to them in verse 39: “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized…” And Jesus was right. James was the first of the disciples to be martyred: in Acts 12:2, we read that “King Herod had James, the brother of John, killed with the sword”. And later, John was sent into exile onto the Island of Patmos after having been tortured by the Caesar at the time.
So both James and John did drink of the cup and they were baptized into suffering and yet both of them had said, “We are able”. In the face of such suffering, it would have been easy for them to walk away, it would have been easy for them to be bitter towards God because he had not given them what they requested, it would have been tempting for them to be angry with Jesus because he had robbed them of their dreams of glory. But they don’t do that. Instead, they humbly submit themselves to the will of God and they say that they are prepared to walk the way of Christ whatever the personal cost to themselves.
That can be a tough lesson for us to learn, can’t it? Sometimes, we might have spent so long being faithful to God or might have spent so much time and energy on a particular form of ministry that we think, like James and John, that we deserve a bit of a reward from God. And then, when the reward doesn’t come, or when life gets tough for us, we maybe grow bitter or angry towards God or we are tempted to walk away from the faith.
We might think, “For goodness sake, God, I have given so much to this church for so long: I have put so much effort in, I have given so much money, I’ve hardly missed a week of worship, don’t I get something in return?” But as much as we may wish it to be otherwise that is not the way of Christian discipleship. It’s not how it works.
As Christians, we are called to submit ourselves totally to the will of God. Full stop. Maybe good things will come our way, maybe they won’t. But our task is to submit and to follow without seeking a reward.
When we read the Gospel stories, there are two people who were placed on the left hand and right hand of Jesus as he was glorified: the two thieves who were crucified with him on the cross. If you want to sit at Jesus’ left side or right side, then you too must be prepared to be crucified – to die to self and then, that honour will be yours…
So first, then, we learn that Christian discipleship is hallmarked by a complete submission to the will of God, without the hope of reward. And secondly,
2. The life of Christian discipleship is hallmarked by serving others
In verse 43, Jesus says, “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all”.
Now this, of course, is a completely counter-cultural idea as much today as it was 2,000 years ago in Jesus’ time. There is a contradiction in terms in verse 42, where Jesus says that the Gentile rulers “lord it over” others. In the Kingdom of God, it is impossible to ‘lord it over’: instead, we ‘lord it under’.
What I mean is that, Lordship and authority are shown through servanthood, not through claiming power over people. As Jesus says in verse 45, “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve…” And Jesus is making his point really clearly here: he doesn’t refer to ‘the Son of God’, which may have put him over human beings. Instead, he refers to ‘the Son of Man’, which is far more servant-like.
Jesus’ way is to ‘lord it under us’, not to ‘lord it over us’.
And if we want to be faithful Christians, then we too must constantly seek ways to ‘lord it under’ others: to serve others and to put others above ourselves at all times. That is the way of Christ. That is the way of Christian discipleship. Martin Luther King once wrote, “Life’s most urgent question is this: ‘What are you doing for others?’”
To lord it under others is the life to which we are all called and that is what is modelled to us in the life of Jesus.
So in conclusion then, this passage from the Gospels is not really a story about selfish desires at all. It is not a story that allows us permission to think of James and John as arrogant, self-centred people who were out to get whatever they could from Jesus. 
Instead, they are good and honest followers of Jesus who were merely doing what they thought it was alright to do in asking Jesus for anything they wanted – as he had instructed them to do. But in doing that, Jesus has an important lesson to teach them – and to teach us about the true nature of Christian discipleship.
Being a follower of Jesus is not about reaping rich rewards for having so faithfully served him for so many years or for having been dedicated to his church over a long period of time through the giving of time and money, energy and effort. Christian discipleship is not about reward at all.
Instead, Christian discipleship is about total obedience to the will of God, whether that leads to good things or bad, easy times or hard: we don’t become bitter or angry, we don’t give in to the temptation to give up…Instead, we endure all things in our walk with Christ.
And secondly, we do not lord it over others but instead try to find ways to lord it under them: to be the servant and the slave of all rather than trying to become an authority figure over them. That is the way of Christ. That is the way of Christian discipleship.
There is a beautiful prayer used in the Methodist Church at the start of every calendar year in which Christians offer themselves back to God. I leave us with it this morning as words that may inspire in us the desire to grow in the spirit of discipleship that Jesus outlines for us here, so that our lives may more fully reflect the way of Christ, the way of the Kingdom of God. The prayer goes like this:
“Lord God, I am no longer my own but yours. Put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will;
put me to doing, put me to suffering; let me be employed for you or laid aside for you, exalted for you or brought low for you. Let me be full, let me be empty, let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal. Amen.”
Rev'd Kia

6.00pm Evensong
Texts: Exodus 31: 12-17,  Matthew 12: 1-14

What, I wonder, are your childhood memories of Sundays? Mine begin with breakfast, as on Sundays only we were treated to half a grapefruit, always cut with a specially shaped grapefruit knife, followed by hot baps made at the local bakery liberally spread with butter and my Mother’s delicious home- made marmalade. And, if it was summer and warm enough, we would consume this feast on the veranda looking out to her lovely garden. Sunday lunch was of course a roast. Did anyone ever consider anything different to a roast in those days? And then church itself was either a morning communion service with real bread, no wafers, or evensong and again in summer the doors would be left wide open, and the beams of rainbow coloured light would stream through the stained glass windows. And again, if the weather was good, after church we would often walk through the fields being ministered to by Parson Greenfields as my Mother called it and like Jesus and his disciples I do remember plucking ears of corn and eating them.

Sounds idyllic? Yes, in many ways it was, and Sundays really were quite different from nowadays with not a shop open and few cars on the road.  But I suspect on chilly winter days I and my siblings were easily bored but memory has erased those times and just left the joyful ones. Many years later the picture is very different with shops open, cars everywhere, sports being played and, if we are honest, churches which are far from full. And we read of continuing decline in church going and even alarmist predictions that within forty years the Church of England will cease to exist. Do we regret all this or throw up our hands in horror and join in a general sense of potential doom, or do we refuse to be disheartened remembering that with God all things are possible?  Even, should the life of the Church of England fade into the annals of history, the eternal God will still be here and future generations will still be his children to be cared for and in new ways perhaps they will  be shown something of his divine creative nature always acting among us.

So, in a determined spirit of optimism that nothing can, or will, separate us from God what are we called to do and especially what are we called to do on the Sabbath? And here I turn to a prayer of Pat Robson and words from the collect for Teresa of Avila whose saint’s day was celebrated on Tuesday. Robson’s prayer is this: ‘Almighty God, we, your people offer you grateful thanks for this time of refreshment in the midst of our busy lives. May we, in the quiet and peace of this moment, lay before you ourselves, our hearts, our lives to do with as you will. Take from us the cares and worries of our world, and let us learn from the beauty we see around us, to trust in your eternal goodness and strength. Be present with us now.’ 

 Be present with us now, that surely is what we are called to do more than anything else on the Sabbath, on a Sunday, and indeed on any day to stop, purposefully lay aside our cares and worries, and seek, in the quietness and peace, the reality and the mystery of God’s presence in our lives. The reality and the profound mystery that God is always with us and nothing can separate us from his loving care. And also, I think it’s important to note that this prayer calls us to learn from the beauty we see around us in order to trust in God’s eternal goodness and strength. And this injunction, to learn from the infinite beauty of God’s creation, reminds us that it was on the seventh day that God himself rested from his labours and, as we heard in our first reading, was refreshed. Learning to stop; learning to put cares and worries to one side, learning to open our eyes and our hearts to all the beauty that is around us and seek that quiet, that peace in which God will give us a true glimpse of his wonder is what I think we are called to do every day but most particularly on  the Sabbath, on Sundays. 

This I believe is what St Teresa’s collect indicates when it asks God to ‘awaken in us a longing for holiness, until we attain to the perfect union of love.’ This longing for holiness is surely expressed, too, in that glorious first hymn we sang this evening: ‘O worship the King all glorious above; O gratefully sing his power and his love; our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of days, pavilioned in splendour and girded with praise.’ And surely no matter what others choose to do with their Sabbath, we are called to sing these words in celebration of all God has done for us: ‘O measureless Might, Ineffable Love, while angels delight to hymn thee above, thy humbler creation though feeble their lays, with true adoration shall sing to thy praise.’ 

And as we do so know with confident trust that  the words of the last hymn we will sing this evening bear witness to the fact that come what may there will always be time and space for a Sabbath rest in the Kingdom that is God’s alone: ‘So be it, Lord; thy throne shall never, like earth’s proud empires, pass away; thy Kingdom stands, and grows for ever, till all thy creatures own thy sway'.  

Almighty God, for this time of Sabbath refreshment we give you our most grateful thanks; grant that it awakens in us a true longing for holiness until we attain to the perfect union of love with you our Creator and Father. Amen.

Virginia Smith

Sunday 13 October
"May I preach faithfully in the name of God Almighty, The, Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit"
Amen

Good morning, everyone.
I wonder if you are the sort of person that likes to argue? And if you say “No”, we can always ask your partner or spouse or friends if that's correct! So be careful!
Generally speaking, we don't like people who argue. There are many reasons. First, we like to be in the right in the first place, so no argument or opposition is required. And second, many of us don't like confrontation, and try to avoid it at all costs.
At school, in the First Form, our bottom set had a history master called Mr Bell. Appropriately named, because he was a huge man with a deep, sonorous voice. He had been gassed in the First World War, and presented a ferocious and terrifying presence to us petrified 11 year olds. And if you started to argue with him, you were in big trouble. 
He would usually make some statement like:
“Boys, history is not about the type of food they ate, and the type of socks they wore, and all that rubbish! It is about war. WAR!" He would roar.
And if some hapless pupil had the temerity to stick up a trembling hand, and say “But surely, Sir…?”, he probably wouldn't get much further. 
We had the cane in those days, and it was generously used. Protest or argument was not thus encouraged.
But I do wonder if some of us treat God in the same way. Someone above protest. Someone above argument. Someone never to be questioned, whatever the situation.
This is an approach the Hebrew Bible does not always take.
One famous OT scholar observes that the starting point of Western Christianity is piety. But the starting point of Jewish faith is protest!
To understand a piece of ancient Hebrew writing, like the Book of Job, we have to recognise that huge gap in starting points.
Jewish people love to argue!
It is in their very natures, which is why they make great lawyers. Well, very active lawyers anyway. It is also deep in their understanding of God. 
They understand that protest is not only allowed in the Hebrew Bible, but it forms a perfectly valid way of communicating with the Almighty, especially when things go wrong.
Western Christians don't do protest very well. We do piety instead. Our starting point is, don't argue with Almighty God! Are you crazy? If things have gone wrong, it's probably our fault. And of course, sometimes it is. 
So, we take out petitions to God, not our protest.
But the problem then comes when things go wrong, and it is not our fault. 
We dare not criticise Almighty God. 
And therefore, we have nowhere to go when disaster hits the innocent.
If we keep doing that, if we never take our legitimate concerns as to the unfairness of life to God, then we send ourselves at least two messages:
Either we tell each other that mustn't feel that way because it's bad and sinful, even though we DO feel that way!
Or else we admit that we DO feel that way, so we need to do something about it somewhere else, but absolutely not here in church!
Both those reactions are hopeless contradictions!
If our faith in God and in Jesus Christ is to mean anything at all, it has to be founded on relationship. And relationship is all about communication between equals. And God treats us as equals, at least in that sense – Jesus calls us his friends, for example.
And part of that relationship can involve argument. For example, in terms of the rights or wrongs of any given situation, particularly when we are in pain, for ourselves or for others.
The Book of Job, and the Psalms of Lament, are full of vigorous protest. They do not mind accusing God of being unfair, of God of being asleep, or God of being deaf to our cries, for example.
And I do not think that this is at all blasphemous. 
It is rather that Jewish theology understands the intimate nature of that Garden-of-Eden one-to-one relationship with God. 
If I have a one-to-one relationship with God, if I am a spiritual being, made in His image, then I have permission to communicate with Him exactly how I feel.
And so do you.
Why DO bad things happen to good people?
Have we definitely done wrong to deserve punishment in this life? What about bereavement, illness or financial disaster? Or natural disaster. Or wars caused by others. Are all these always our fault? 
And if not, why do they happen to us?
The book of Job shows that God can and will perfectly well deal with our protest. And communicate with us. 
But if we never ask Him why our suffering has to be so, then, I think, our devotional submissiveness becomes unhealthy.
Job is a great example. He is Hebrew. He sees and feels the injustice of the pain and the suffering and the loss that he is currently having to bear.
His so-called friends say “Well, you must have done something wrong, and it must’ve been something really bad! You're just in denial. God is punishing you.”
And Job says “No, God is not punishing me. He is testing me…
.... I haven't done anything wrong.” 
Which of course, simply winds them up even more!
And by the time we get to Chapter 23, he's given up trying to answer their hidebound theology. And their narrow way of judgmental, black and white thinking. 
Because he just says ‘no’. 
Bad things do happen to good people, and good things do happen to bad people. 
I'm a living example of this. 
And I must argue this case before God, and not you lot, and find out what's going on here. I need an answer. 
WHY?
Verse 4: I would lay my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments.
Why is he not afraid that Almighty God is going to silence him in His omnipotence and power?
Because Job believes in God’s justice:
Verse 6. Would he contend with me in the greatness of his power? No, but he would give heed to me. There [that is in the heavens] an upright person could reason with Him, and I should be acquitted forever by my judge.
Job has the nerve to say I haven't done anything wrong. I've lost my money. My land, my family, my health. Everything. And God has let it happen. And I need to know why. And get absolution from God, that I have done nothing wrong to deserve this.
The key to the Book of Job is that his trials are not about punishment. They are about a time of testing. And he understands this. 
But the testing has produced fractured spiritual relationship.
He cannot find the presence of God in the injustice and in the pain. And that is the most painful bit of all.
He cannot see or feel the presence of God like he used to.
His relationship with God has been torn asunder. 
And so, he finds himself deeply alone.
But throughout the book of Job, we have these little rays of sunshine. 
Where, unlike his friends, he suddenly understands the big picture of what is happening, and why. 
And the little shaft of glorious sunshine in our chapter is in verse 10. 
He knows the way that I take, and when he has tested me, I shall come out like gold.
It is well worth reflecting, that at the very times we cannot feel God, He is still present, and working in our lives. It just won’t feel like it.
God in His infinite wisdom does sometimes hide His face. He may well be deliberately silent. And there may well be a time of testing for us also. 
Much though we hate to admit it, it’s a time of testing that will do us good in the end. 
That will refine our impurities. 
And that will bring us forth like pure gold. 
To worship God in a new way. 
With purity of heart. 
And with restored, and strengthened, and transformed, relationship with Him.
We say in church, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” 
That is the perfect summary of the Book of Job. 
Job’s cry to God is to save him from the temptation of easy answers. 
His wife says “Curse God and die” and Job says “No”. 
His friends say “Repent, you're a really bad sinner, it's all your own fault.” And Job says “No”. 
Despite the greatest of provocations, Job does not take the temptation of easy, empty answers.
He does not blame God. 
But he comes very close to it. Such is the depth of his misery. 
And that's why we need the second part of that couplet in the Lord's Prayer. 
The second part explains the first. 
Deliver us from evil. 
Evil we cannot escape in this life. It comes from the sin that clings so closely.
God permits the time of testing, because when it is over, we also are delivered from evil, and brought forth as gold. And we are made new, in transformed, resurrection newness of life.
At the very heart of our Christian faith is the death of Jesus Christ on the cross. 
Without Good Friday, there is no Easter Sunday. 
Without undeserved punishment, and separation from God in crucifixion, there can be no death and glorious resurrection.
Jesus Christ also has done no wrong. Perhaps in the very different context of the New Testament, he also debates the problem of unjust suffering with God the Father, in the Garden of Gethsemane. 
He also suffers unfairly and horribly, and experiences separation from God the Father. 
And it is only through that terrible Good Friday crucible, that He also is brought forth as gold, into wonderful new powerful resurrection life.
And so it is for us also.
God is our refining fire.
We ask Him to save us from the time of trial, and deliver us from evil, every week, in the Lord’s Prayer.
And we trust in Him that He shall indeed do so.
And one day, Christ shall return, to transform our difficult times, our bereavements, our pain and suffering and separations and disappointments, into glorious new powerful resurrection life.
The end shall be better than the beginning, much much better.
If we believe and trust in Him.
Amen

Rev’d Rutton Vicajee 

Sunday 6 October , Abinger and Coldharbour Harvest Festival at Christ Church

Don’t worry. 
Two words that are designed to help but can be profoundly unhelpful!
If someone tells you not to worry what is your first reaction? Apart from the brilliant reggae song – Don’t worry, be happy, mine tends to be – well that’s alright for you to say – you don’t have the problems that I do, the issues and decisions I have – you don’t understand what I’m going through and what my life is like. 
Self-pitying – yes, shortsighted – yes. Ungrateful – yes.
But that is what Jesus is telling us in our gospel reading.
My Nana was a born worrier – that’s what people say, don’t they – I can’t help it, I’m a born worrier. Are they? Are you? Or is it just a trait we learn through our life – a habit we get into?
Worry and anxiety are rife in our society – a recent survey says that our children are some of the unhappiest in Europe resulting in anxiety, worry and mental illness. There are lots of reasons for this but I wonder if part of the problem for them, and us, is that we have forgotten how to be grateful?
We live in a society that demands we have more – more money, more clothes, more stuff. It is hard to be grateful if you are always on the hunt for more.
As a human race there have always been situations and circumstances to cause us worry and anxiety. In Jesus’ time it was food, clothing, illness and social unrest, to name but a few – perhaps not that different to some of our worldly issues at the moment. 
For our culture in the 21st century we can add pressures of social media including our never ending news cycle, over information, misinformation, world politics, injustice, poverty – the list is almost endless and we will have our own personal anxieties. So much to worry and fret over and so little time and resource to do anything about it.
Life can be overwhelming, if we let it.
But this is the season of Thanksgiving, of harvest, where each year we pause and are given the opportunity to realign ourselves with what Jesus is trying to teach and show us, to give us a different perspective, a different way of seeing and being in the world and so to live in gratitude and peace.
How do we do this?
There has been a recent explosion of the practice of mindfulness, an invitation to slow our lives down, to stop and notice our surroundings and to connect with nature. Our lives have sped up at a phenomenal rate – we are increasingly more impatient; we are only interested in instant gratification – if my internet drops out for more than a couple of seconds I lose the plot! 
If our expectations of a good life – whatever that means for each of us – are not met, we feel hard done by and short changed. We have perhaps become spoilt and easily dissatisfied. So in order to recover some peace of mind we are looking, society is looking for a different way of doing life. Perhaps that is why there is also a rise in the number of people turning to spirituality to find answers to their worries and anxieties.
There is nothing new under the sun – mindfulness, contemplation and silence are centuries old. Their aim is to declutter our minds, to refocus us on the simplicity and to bring us back in touch with ourselves, our world and our creator. And in this space it is easier to connect with gratitude.
Gratitude can take many forms, from the bigger moments of life to the everyday seemingly insignificant. We are grateful for the safe arrival of a child or grandchild and we can also find gratitude in sharing a hot cup of tea on a cold day with a good friend, the laughter of family and the wag of a tail.
Starting and ending your day consciously thinking and remembering things to be grateful for is a helpful habit to get into. In fact, in Alcoholics Anonymous, recovering addicts are encouraged to write a gratitude list before bed to help them focus on the positives of their day.
And as Virginia reminded us recently on a PCC quiet morning, gratitude leads to joy. It is hard to feel worry and anxiety when your heart is full of joy and gratitude.
So yes, we will all have worries as we navigate our way through this world but in this season of Thanksgiving let us remember that our anxieties are nothing new, and there is a way to be in our world that can give us peace and joy.
Jesus is reminding us not to worry. We can trust his words. There is a bigger picture and God is the master painter – he has got this, He has got you.
In practicing gratitude we can release the joy and peace in our hearts and instead of being ‘born worriers’ we can live in grateful acceptance of all we have received.
Amen.
Rev'd Kia

Sunday 22 September, Seventeenth after Trinity
Texts:  James 3 13-4:3, 7-8a, Mark 10 35-45

After my daughter’s wedding a close relation made it very obvious to anyone who would listen that she felt she had been downgraded as far as the seating at the wedding breakfast was concerned. She had decidedly taken umbrage and nothing anyone said would persuade her that absolutely no slight was ever intended.  The fact that she had been observed in what was obviously a very amusing and lively conversation with one of her neighbours at the table was not apparently of relevance. Anyone who has ever had to do seating plans for a large event will know that it is quite a nightmare and how the staff at Buckingham Palace arrange it all for a State Banquet I do not know.

Whoever we are it is very much in our human nature to aspire at times to what we see as our rightful place in some particular pecking order. And here I confess that as an officiant at both large weddings and funerals where seating can prove to be a problem there is always, come what may, a seat for me! That said the opportunities to make use of it are usually limited. We are by nature ambitious, be it to become a CEO of some big company or to have a brand new kitchen with marble topped work surfaces and one of those taps that can provide instant boiling water without all the bother of filling a kettle or, just as ambitiously, to  grow the winning flowers or vegetables at the local Flower Show. All of us, whoever we are, have at least something of the need that James and John had, namely, to be recognised for what we have done. And those who are ordained are no different to anyone else and anyone who, like me, enjoys Trollope’s wonderful Chronicles of Barchester will have been equally horrified and amused at the bishop’s wife's, Mrs Proudie, ambition to turn every Sabbath into a day of complete misery and joylessness for everyone in her household and beyond and the slimy, self-important Mr Slope’s ambition to be de facto bishop.  And which of our current bishops harbours secret ambitions, hotly denied I’m sure, to become the next Archbishop of Canterbury on Welby’s retirement?

Of course, all of us can, at times, be entirely altruistic and only we know what quiet and unobserved good we may have tried to do but we also like, even crave, a bit of recognition now and again, be it a coveted top place at some dinner, a bunch of flowers or similar small gift or quite simply a genuine and heartfelt thank you. Plus, in our culture, there is undoubtedly an inbred sense of privilege that some people have, be it they went to the ‘right’ schools or universities or simply that they are members of what some consider to be the elite, the aristocracy of society with bloodlines going back centuries. And here I can point to a personal example of such a sense of privilege and demarcation between social groups when I went, for a time, to  weekly  tutor twin girls and was never admitted through the front door but directed to  the tradesman’s door and the room we used was quite definitely beyond the wrong side of the green baize door separating servants and staff from family members and their presumably carefully vetted guests. I hope things have moved on since then and we have become at least a little more egalitarian.

And, reflecting on all this, I was very aware that surely Jesus, too, would only have been, as it were, permitted to use the tradesmen’s entrance if he were to visit the leading Pharisees and Sadducees, who were the real aristocrats of Jewish society at the time.  Jesus was quite definitely in the eyes of such people a poor, itinerant preacher with some strange ideas from the backwaters of Galilee and of no recognisable status. Did Jesus care? Not in the least? Did Jesus hanker after a place at their top tables? No way!  Did Jesus feel slighted  by the attitude of society’s elite  towards him ? No. I don’t think he did.  Jesus, I’m sure, wouldn’t have cared tuppence about where he sat just as long as he had good company and also, far more importantly, people who, whatever their status in society, needed him in one way or another. He didn’t discriminate in any way as to the company he kept. He did in fact eat with Pharisees, but he also ate with those who, shock horror, were classed and even vilified as sinners. We even know he sat on the ground on more than one occasion but specifically beside the woman accused of adultery. And here’s a question for all of us to ponder, namely would we be happy to be given a place on the ground if that was all Jesus had to offer us?

Jesus wanted to be alongside people not above them, not looking down on them, and here I came across what I thought was a very wise and insightful comment on Jesus’ earthly ministry by Mark Oakley which was that: ‘I’ve often thought that Jesus was less concerned about getting people into heaven than to get heaven into us.’ So, here is another question for us to ponder this morning and that is do we, as it were, pay more attention in our worship to demonstrate  to  God of our worthiness to be given a place beside Him in heaven  or are we more concerned to seek and to receive and to rejoice at the incomparable blessing of his covenantal love which he gives to all his children and to reflect that love to others and serve their needs thus bringing both them and us a very real sense of finding ourselves in heaven here and now? Are we seeking to find a place to sit for the disadvantaged, the sick, those who are worried or anxious and perhaps, most importantly of all the lonely and the friendless? Surely, finding such people a chair and then sitting beside them even on the ground will help bring a sense of heaven however small right here on earth.   

Our reading from James himself is very specific, warning loudly and clearly against envy and selfish ambition and advocating instead that we do our very best to be peace-loving, considerate, submissive even and full of mercy and good fruit. A passage that we should perhaps try to re-read occasionally to remind us of just what qualities are required of those who truly wish to serve our Lord, our Lord who is and was the Servant King.

And just one last thought to consider and that is was the request of James and John only one of ambition or was it that in Jesus they had found such an amazing, wonderful friend that quite simply they craved the joy of his company just as much in heaven as here on earth? Now that I think is an aspiration we can all justly have. 

Amen

Virginia Smith

Sunday 15 September, Sixteenth after Trinity
Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here.

9.00am Communion
Text: Mark 8 27-38

Jesus’ disciples are undergoing a very intense apprenticeship with Jesus, and it is about to get far more intense as he begins his journey to Jerusalem. Before embarking on this journey south, Jesus pauses to check in with his disciples near the northern city of Caesarea Philippi.
“Who do people say that I am?” he asks (Mark 8:27). This is a relatively easy question. The disciples simply report on the buzz they have heard among the crowds. Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, and still others, one of the prophets. Jesus’ ministry of preaching, teaching, and healing has indeed born resemblance to that of the great prophets of Israel. The responses are not far off the mark, but they do not quite get to the heart of the matter.
Then Jesus asks his disciples a more pointed question: “And you, who do you say that I am?” Peter, so often the first to speak, responds, “You are the Messiah” (Mark 8:29). Of course, we, who know the whole story know that Peter has given the right answer. 
Yet the answer Peter gives is not actually very logical. The title “Messiah” in Hebrew or “Christ” in Greek was associated in Jewish tradition with an anointed king, a royal figure from the line of David expected to come and free Israel from their Gentile oppressors, purify the people, and restore Israel’s independence and glory.
Nothing in Jesus’ career up to now has given any indication of claims to royalty or political ambitions. So far Jesus has made no claim to be the Messiah, and he certainly has shown no sign of taking on the Romans. 
Perhaps Peter hopes that when they go to Jerusalem, Jesus will finally take on this messianic role. Perhaps that is why Jesus tells his disciples to tell no one about him, because he knows that they are still so very far from understanding what he is all about.
As soon as Jesus begins to speak of what is to come in his career as Messiah — rejection, suffering, and death — Peter is quick to try to set him straight. He takes Jesus aside and rebukes him. We can imagine him saying, “No, no, Jesus, this is not the way it is supposed to go. The Messiah is supposed to conquer the Romans, not get killed by them. What good is a dead Messiah?”
Peter’s response is understandable in light of Jewish messianic expectations, which are perhaps not so very different from what we want in a Saviour. 
We want someone who is strong and powerful, someone who will rescue us from our troubles and defeat our enemies. Too often in popular evangelism, Jesus is presented in this way — as a kind of superhero who solves every problem for us, as a guarantor of prosperity and success. Nothing could be further from what Jesus has in mind.
Jesus’ response to Peter is harsh: “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things” (Mark 8:33). This is one of those moments in Scripture that highlights the vast distance between us and God. 
Though Jesus is God with us, we cannot tame him or make him over into our image. We would like a saviour who is a winner, and one who makes us winners, but Jesus insists on identifying with the lowliest of losers. He will allow himself to be judged and condemned as a blasphemer by Jewish religious leaders. He will allow himself to be mocked, tortured, and executed as a criminal by the Romans.
And that’s not all. Jesus actually expects his disciples to follow him on this path of suffering and death. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it” (Mark 8:34-35).
To be honest, I really struggled with these verses when I first became a Christian. I don’t want to suffer, I don’t want to lose my life, I don’t want to deny myself – what does all this mean?
I think it looks and feels different for all of us. I can only tell of my experience and what this looked like for me – it will be different for you but there may some similarities.
My life back then seemed, on the surface to be rather good – wonderful husband, healthy children, nice house, car… but something was missing. I wasn’t deep down happy. I was restless, irritable and discontent.
I was trying to use the trappings of the world to fix my underlying unhappiness.
But God offered me a different way of being, a different way of engaging and viewing the world.
I gradually put down my failing coping mechanisms, the ways the world told me to fix myself, and surrendered and let God in.
I might have been gaining the whole world but I was losing my life in it.
So by surrendering to God’s will, by laying down my life to do his will, by trying to follow him, I actually gained a new life. And this eventually led me here. 
A life of peace, purpose and people.
I still take up my cross daily, I am progress not perfection, I still have the thorn in my flesh which keeps me humble and dependant on God. But by his grace, mercy and love I am still here, giving it a go! 
Jesus speaks of losing our lives for his sake, and for the sake of the gospel. It means putting Jesus’ priorities and purposes ahead of our own comfort or security. It means being willing to lose our lives by spending them for others — using our time, resources, gifts, and energy so that others might experience God’s love made known in Jesus Christ.
How can we possibly do this? Our instinct for self-preservation fights it at every step. In this sense we are no different from the first disciples. They certainly tried to save their lives. Though Jesus tried to prepare them for what was to come in Jerusalem, they all deserted him. And Peter — that star student who had the right answer — he not only ran away, he denied three times that he ever knew the man named Jesus.
We might wish that things had happened differently, that Jesus had followed a more dignified, Messiah-like path, and that his disciples had been more heroic, but that is not the story we have before us.
What we have before us is a story about a Messiah being tortured and killed by the powerful and abandoned by his closest companions.
Yet Mark has announced from the beginning that this story is good news (euangelion). How can this be? We need to read the whole story, to be sure. The whole story tells us that Jesus was faithful unto death, even while all around him proved faithless, and that God raised him to new life. Because of this, we know that God’s life-giving power is far stronger than the worst that humans hands can do. Because of this, we know that there is no sin or failure so great that it can finally separate us from the love of God in Christ.
It is good news. 
New life, new purpose, new passion with a forgiving and loving God who accepts our frailties and our half-hearted attempts, as he did those first disciples. Who helps us get back up and try again. Because he loves us, he knows it is worth it, we are worth it.
Amen.

Rev'd Kia

6.00pm Evensong
Text: Mark 8 27-38     

“Who do people say that I am?” and “Who do you say that I am?”

At first glance it may seem unusual that Jesus wants to know who people think he is.  The disciples are journeying with Jesus on what must seem like a rollercoaster ride of discovery.  Jesus has shown how he cares and provides food for people in the most surprising circumstances, and they have looked on as he has performed miracles.  I suppose it is little wonder that Jesus wants to understand if either the disciples or the crowds are starting to understand his true identity.  

The passage follows an account of Jesus miraculously restoring the sight of a blind man in Bethsaida.  Jesus touches the man’s eyes twice, the first time the man sees people that appear like trees and it is only with the second touch that his sight is fully restored.  The healed man was instructed to go straight home and not tell anyone what had happened.  Jesus is operating in secret; it is vital that his identity does not become public knowledge just yet.

Jesus takes the disciples away from the crowds on the long walk between Bethsaida, on the sea of Galilee, and Caesarea Philippi in the mountains near Mount Hermon.   It is perhaps no surprise that Jesus withdraws to the mountains with the disciples, mountains have always been a place of revelation in the Bible.  By withdrawing, Jesus ensures both seclusion and quiet to talk with and teach his disciples.  He poses the question who do people think that I am, and the disciples give the answer that the crowds think that Jesus is a prophet or John the Baptist.  They partially understand who he is, this reflects the partial restoring of the sight of the blind man with Jesus’s first touch.  They see the outline and idea of who Jesus is, but the clear picture cannot be fully revealed.

The words who do you say I am remind me of watching television on a Saturday night with my Grandma.  The programme, ‘This is Your Life’, sticks in my memory as something we would often enjoy.  Well, I say enjoy, that might be stretching things a little as more often than not I had no idea who the people on the programme were.  My Grandma clearly did know who they were through and gained great pleasure from learning all about them and the lives they had led before they became famous.  Michael Aspell would call upon friends and family to recount their memories and the person would be suitably shocked and amazed at all that was said.  The programme built up the layers of the story, rather like the way in which the life of Jesus is recounted by the gospel writers. 

The phase who do you think I am is actually harder to answer than it first appears.  Think about describing who you are to someone, what would you say, what is important and what is not.  Would you list your achievements, talk about your family, your job or hobbies.  What is it that makes you who you are? 

So then who would you say Jesus was?  We are a committed group of Christians who pray and worship at home or as part of a community on a regular basis.  And yet answering the question who do you think this man Jesus is presents quite a challenge – perhaps it can be your project for the week!

 Peter gives what we might consider is the ‘right’ answer “You are the Christ” or in some translations “You are the Messiah”.  Peter who has so often got the wrong idea – if we think of the transfiguration – wanting to put up tents and stay on the mountain, denying the identity of Jesus three times and yet here he has a moment in the spotlight, a moment of recognition.  This is, as it were, the second healing touch, the disciples had been as much in the dark about Jesus’s identity despite their closeness to Jesus.  Peter’s declaration allows the disciples eyes to be opened, they can now make sense of all the signs that Jesus has shown them.

This revelation allows Jesus to begin to teach the disciples in earnest, their understanding of his identity as the Messiah was the foundation they needed.  The disciples were used to living in fear, the Roman Empire was quick to punish anyone who opposed its authority.  The new lesson Jesus was to teach was not that there would be even greater risks ahead, but that Jesus was to face death.  And even worse, that as his followers they were expected to face the same dangers themselves.  I think we can see why Peter immediately objects.  We would defend our friends and fellow Christian travellers and I doubt any of us here would willingly allow anyone to meet death head on.  It is because of Peter’s reaction to the plan that Jesus has revealed to the disciples that he is accused of being Satan and too focussed on earthly things.

If we are totally honest, we too are often distracted by earthly things.  Jesus and his disciples risked all to share the good news.  What is it that is stopping us sharing who we think Jesus is for us with those that we meet?

Why are we not keener to let others know what Jesus has done for us.  Above all, this is a passage that entreats us to follow Jesus no matter what challenges we face.  Jesus clearly explains to his disciples what their life as his followers will be like and it is definitely not going to be a gentle stroll through rolling Surrey hills, they will face dangers and risks at every turn.  

Just like the disciples, we are journeying up the mountain and inevitably will stumble, fall and lose our way at times.  However, we are called to pick ourselves up, recall what really sustains us and, inspired by this hope, to carry on our journey.

Amber Wood

Sunday 8 September,  Fifteenth after Trinity
Text: Matthew 7:24-37

He sighed
There is a lot to ponder on in our Gospel reading today and I could be drawn down any number of rabbit holes – but two words stopped me in my tracks when I was reflecting on our passage in verse 34.
He sighed
Last week I had a phone conversation with a clergy colleague in the diocese. We have a close though slightly formal relationship. After we exchanged the usual and expected greetings and pleasantries I said to him, “So how are you, really?” 
He sighed deeply and said, “It’s déjà vu. It’s just like it was last year. I’m planning for the Autumn term but everything is so uncertain.” I heard his exhaustion and frustration. His sigh spoke louder and said more than his words.
I know what that sigh is like and I’ll bet you do too.
I find myself sighing sometimes, especially as I recover from Covid! I sigh more often and I sigh more deeply. And I wonder if that’s true for you too. I wonder what your sigh is today.
I’m not talking about a sigh of relief or satisfaction, an “Ahh, this is good” kind of sigh. I’m talking about the kind of sigh we hear from Jesus in today’s Gospel. 
It’s not only a sigh, it’s a moan and a groan. It’s a murmuring. It’s an expression of something deep within.  
Jesus has returned to the region around the Sea of Galilee. The people “brought him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hands on him.”
Jesus took the man “aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha,’ that is, ‘Be opened.’”
“He sighed.”
 What do you make of that? What do you think Jesus’ sigh is about? 
Maybe he’s just tired. Haven’t you had days that wore you out and as soon as you got home you dropped into your chair and sighed?
Have you ever sighed when the phone or door bell rang and you wondered, “Now what?” 
Maybe that’s what happened to Jesus when the people brought this deaf man with a speech impediment. Maybe he just wanted to be left alone for a while. Or maybe he’s heartbroken at this man’s life, the difficulty and struggle. Don’t you sometimes read the news and sigh? 
Gaza, Israel, Afghanistan, racism, migrants and refugees seeking a new home, political divisions and public bickering. It’s one sigh after another.     
Guy sometimes says to me, “That was a big sigh, what’s going on?” Let me tell you what some of my sighs today are about. 
• I sigh when I’m tired, when I feel overwhelmed, and when I wonder if I have what it takes. I sigh when I feel powerless, when I don’t know what to do, and when I feel lost. 
• I sigh when I see people who I care about who are struggling - with ill health, worrying about surgery, finances, anxiety.
• I sigh about the things I desire and long for but don’t have. I sigh when I am frustrated, disappointed, discouraged, or exasperated.
• I sigh when I read or hear our local and national conversations about social justice, civil rights, and public health. I sigh when profits are given priority over people. I sigh because it doesn’t make sense and I don’t get it.
• I sigh when I catch myself living old patterns and behaviours that are not good for me. I sigh when I realize nothing has changed or is changing. I sigh when I begin to have the same old conversations and arguments in my head.  
What about you? What causes you to sigh today? Maybe you sigh at some of the same things I do. Maybe you’ve got other things that make you sigh. Maybe I make you sigh. If you were to list the top three things that cause you to sigh today, what would they be? 
We sigh for a thousand different reasons but here’s what I wonder:
• What if our sighs are the revelation and recognition that we have bumped up against a closed place within ourselves, in a relationship, or in our life and world? Isn’t that what happened in today’s gospel? The people of that region brought Jesus a man who is closed. His ears are stopped up and his tongue is tied. And Jesus sighed.
• What if every sigh carries the words, “Ephphatha, Be opened?”
• What if the exhalation, the breathing out, that accompanies every sigh is the breath of life? 
• What if Jesus is sighing new life into the man in today’s gospel, into you and me? Isn’t that the story of creation? God “breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being” (Genesis 2:7). And for the man in today’s gospel, Jesus “sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha,’ that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.” He was a new man, a new creation.
I think most of us experience our sighs as a resignation to the circumstances. We sigh believing that’s how it is, that’s how it will be. We close ourselves off from the future, each other, and the possibility of something new happening. We resign from life. But Jesus doesn’t do that. 
His sigh is not a resignation. It’s a deep breath, a pause. Maybe he’s breathing in the life giving breath of the Holy Spirit – to re-energise him, to re-focus him, to equip him to heal. It’s his refusal to accept limitations or restrictions on the fullness of life.
When I look at the sighs in my life I can see the closed places in me, my attitudes and opinions, my ways of thinking, my version of the truth, my actions, my dreams and hopes, my vision for how life might be. My sighs show me that I still have work to do. They point me to places of growth and healing. 
Perhaps when we sigh, we can re-frame it. Not as a sign of resignation, of accepting the status quo, but as an invitation from God to breath in the Holy Spirit – the life-giving force that keeps us alive. 
An invitation to live life to the full by opening ourselves up to the Holy Spirit, by allowing him to work in and through us for the benefit of others.
Look at the top three sighs in your life today. What are they about? What closed places are they showing you? What would it take for you to sigh at those closed places and then say, “Ephphatha, Be opened?” And to allow the Holy Spirit to work?
I wonder what it would be like for you and me to sigh together, not out of resignation, but to register our openness to receiving from the Holy Spirit. To accept our own limitations in the world and to allow God to open our hearts and minds. 
A sigh sounds very much like the first spoken name of God – Yahweh. The Jewish people thought speaking the name of God almost a blasphemy, so they said it like a sigh – Yahweh. Maybe we can sigh the name of God and by doing so re-focus our thoughts and wills to him – let him in, let him help.
I think that sigh would be a divine sigh, a prayer, a cry for help, an expression of longing and desire, a hope against hope. It just might be the opening of something new in our lives and in the world. It was for the deaf and mute man in today’s gospel.
Amen.

Rev'd Kia

Sunday 1 September, Fourteenth after Trinity
Text: Mark 7: 1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Worship is not a repetitious exercise of rituals and formulas. These create a veil that actually prevents us from enjoying the presence of the Lord. Worship is the heart poured out in gratitude and awe, expressing our appreciation of who He is and what He has done for us by His grace through Jesus Christ. Dave Hunt

I believe that in public worship we should do well to be bound by no human rules, and constrained by no stereotyped order. - Charles Spurgeon

It may not surprise you to know that the neonatal unit which I visit every week at St Peter’s Hospital, Chertsey is subject to very rigorous infection control. There is the sweetest infection control nurse who is knee high to a grasshopper and who makes goodness knows how many visits each week to the Unit and subjects it to her rigorous scrutiny. I did suggest she should have a little stool so she would not have to stand on tiptoe to see into the nurseries, but she said, laughingly, that it was much better if the nurses and doctors inside did not spot her! I’m sure she could give those zealous Pharisees a good run for their money as regards hygiene standards.  But also, it strikes me there is a vast difference between that little nurse and those righteous Pharisees. From all accounts and the many criticisms of Jesus himself it would seem that many of the leading Pharisees were zealots only concerned that the multiple laws contained in the book of Leviticus, be it regarding the terrible scourge of leprosy or the cleanliness of one’s cups, pots and bronze kettles, should be observed to the letter. And here lies the difference between their approach, which was definitely akin to obsessive compulsive disorder, and that of  our lovely young infection control nurse  who, while recognising just how vital her work is to ensure that every precaution is taken against infection which could be so damaging to premature babies, also recognises that what the parents will be seeking, far far more than spotless equipment and hands that have been scrubbed and scrubbed again, is a truly  sensitive,  caring, compassionate and, indeed, loving approach from all who care for their precious but oh so vulnerable babies.  In contrast it would appear from the gospel accounts that sensitivity, caring and compassion were qualities those zealous Pharisees lacked. Jesus’ corroborative words are decidedly damning: ’This people honour me with their lips but their hearts are far from me.’

So, what does all this mean for us today? Are we, at times, guilty of honouring God with our lips while our hearts are far from any true, sincere and heartfelt worship. And here it has to be acknowledged I think that all of us have innate ideas as to exactly how worship should be conducted and while we may not express our criticism outwardly may well harbour in our hearts objections as to the conduct of worship. And also I must confess that having been taught early on in my priesthood by the first vicar under whom I served just what were the right and wrong things to do I can, at times, be aware of the very different approach of colleagues.  Does it matter? The answer surely has to be an emphatic ‘No’ if it is quite obvious that the worship is not merely following some formulaic carefully dictated pattern but is truly worship from the heart. Worship from the heart which seeks to express the praise, the wonder and, perhaps above all, the mystery that is our God. Worship from the heart which seeks to embrace all, and I do mean all, who are part of that worship so that, united as one family, they may give glory and in return feel the encompassing redemptive love that God has shown us. Shown it through giving us his Son to walk on this earth just as we do, sacrificing his Son to the horrors of death upon the cross that all our sinning may be forgiven and raising his Son to new life that we, too, may share in that risen life both here on earth and beyond our mortal death. Worship from the heart which will accept that sometimes things are done differently and sometimes even the best of us who have the privilege of officiating will make mistakes. Worship from the heart which is not sullied or condemned by damning criticism or merely a repetitive exercise of rituals and formulas but blessed, with joy and poured out with gratitude at each and every opportunity to give praise, thanks and adoration in order  to reflect the love of God in whose eyes we are both unique but  equal.

And as an example of just how different one key aspect of the service of Holy Communion can be we saw it in our four Benefice service when two of our churches offer the common cup so that those receiving the sacramental wine may either choose to drink or themselves dip their bread of life into the  cup while at the other two the president does all the intinction and no one else handles the Common Cup. Does it matter? For some of you it quite probably does but for me it does not as I know that each PCC has carefully considered the matter and come to their conclusion as to what is the safest way to administer communion post Covid.  And here I must add that if you were to attend a Holy Communion service at Westcott you would be given an individual miniature egg cup of wine which I have to tell you are incredibly fiddly to both fill and distribute. Be that as it may, I am just so thankful that no matter how we receive the sacramental elements we can do so as one family coming together to the altar rail to receive those elements the bread, the wine in accordance with Jesus’s instruction to do this in  remembrance of me.

We can have services full of vestments, pomp and goodness knows how many genuflections and we can have the simplest of services with no robes, no genuflecting and, if we allow our hearts to over-rule our critical facilities, we can find in each the most amazing spiritual blessing. 

And here I am reminded of the occasion when, at very short notice the then Bishop of Dorking Ian Brackley, came to officiate at a service in Wotton when at the time I was churchwarden. Bishop Ian was known as an absolute stickler for the correct protocol and had left more than one vicar quivering for their failure to meet his exact standards, so I was very nervous as Wotton is not exactly renowned as a church with strict protocol. Imagine my relief when the first thing the bishop said to me was to the effect, please don’t worry we will just do things the Wotton way and you can tell me what to do. What a truly magnanimous caring and compassionate approach.  And thus, of course, that Christmas Day we truly had worship which was, without a doubt heartfelt, and truly full of the blessing of the Holy Spirit.  

To conclude I pray that none of us would ever find ourselves accused by Jesus as being Pharisees who honour Christ with our lips alone and not with our hearts but in each and every act of worship we attend conducted with the Holy Spirit’s gift of true reverence find that we  have  been richly blessed spiritually and with the hope that the glories of  our praise have  indeed joined with that of the angels and all the heavenly choir.

Virginia Smith

During August, there is just one service each Sunday at one of the four Benefice Churches. The Christ Church service was on Sunday 11 August.

Sunday 11 August, Eleventh after Trinity
An August Benefice Service hosted y Christ Church
Do not Grieve the Holy Spirit of God

Text: Ephesians 4:21 – 5:2  
Since you have heard about Jesus and have learned the truth that comes from him, throw off your old sinful nature and your former way of life, which is corrupted by its deceitful desires. Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes. Put on your new nature, created to be like God—truly righteous and holy.
So stop telling lies. Let us tell our neighbours the truth, for we are all parts of the same body. And “don’t sin by letting anger control you.” Don’t let the sun go down while you are still angry, for anger gives a foothold to the devil. 
If you are a thief, stop stealing. Instead, use your hands for good hard work, and then give generously to others in need. 
Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. 
And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.
Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

Text: Matthew 5: 13-16
“You are the salt of the earth. But what good is salt if it has lost its flavour? Can you make it salty again? It will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless.
 “You are the light of the world—like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. 15 No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.

The first half of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians consists of wonderful teaching about God, the Church and our status as part of God’s family – chosen and saved by God’s grace. The second half, chapters 4 to 6, is packed full of instructions and practical advice on how to live out our calling to be God’s chosen and holy people. 

Ephesians 1-3: Doctrine and Doxology. 
God has a plan 
… to unite everything and everyone, in heaven and on earth under one head, namely Christ (Eph 1:10). The universe is not on a random meander, nor an endless cycle nor a downward descent into chaos. It is heading towards an ultimate conclusion where everything will be brought back to where it should be, in total harmony with God, and with Jesus as the undisputed King over everything. That is the ultimate meaning of the Kingdom of God.

The Church is vitally important in God’s purpose.
• Ephesians 1 - We have been chosen. Just like Olympic athletes, chosen to represent our country. Our country is God’s Kingdom, and we are the flagbearers and ambassadors. Why have we been chosen? Paul repeats one phrase three times in relation to our role. It is to be “for the praise of his glory” 1:6,12,14
• Ephesians  2 – We are to become One new humanity. We are being built into a holy temple, where God lives by his Spirit.
• Ephesians 3 – God’s intent was that, through the Church, the manifold wisdom of God should be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms. We are on display – God has chosen to show the universe his wisdom, his love and his power THROUGH THE CHURCH. We are on stage in a cosmic theatre … The play is titled “The Manifold Wisdom of God,” and it stars one actress: the Church. The theme of the play is God’s glory in the unity of his people.

The gospel reading from the Sermon on the Mount shows that Jesus had exactly the same plan. Summing up the beatitudes He says, “you followers of mine are together like salt that transforms society. You, living together in harmony, are like a city set on a hill that can be clearly seen by everyone. Let your light shine before the world so that everyone will be moved to praise and worship God.”

So now we come to the practical half of the letter, Ephesians chapters 4-6.

What this means for us: how we are to live. Ephesians  4-6

You were once darkness, now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light. Ephesians  5:8

God’s ultimate vision for the Church comes in chapter 5 – we will become the bride of Christ: Christ loved the Church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless.

So what does this mean in practice? 

Three words are very prominent in these chapters: Unity, Maturity and Love.

Unity, Ephesians 4 3-6 , one body and one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all. This is not uniformity, but unity in diversity - like a body with all parts working together in harmony and mutual appreciation.

Maturity, Ephesians  4 13,  until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fulness of Christ. We are to be no longer infants, tossed about by every new idea that comes along. Rather we are to speak the truth in love, each one of us playing our part in the Body.

Love, Ephesians 5:= 2, live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us

And so (at last!) let’s turn to the passage that was read to us today, Ephesians  4: 20-5:2

A change of clothes

Paul uses one of his favourite metaphors: We need a change of clothes. The old clothes are dirty, corrupted and unbecoming for Children of Light. The new set of clothes involves the renewal of our minds. It is a whole new self, created to be like God, in true righteousness and holiness. 

There are specific things we need to put off (take off), and others that we need to put on.

Put Off Put On

Lying and deceiving one another. Includes exaggerating and hiding inconvenient truth Truth and integrity

Speak truthfully to your neighbour

Uncontrolled anger

Anger can give the devil a foothold. Reconciliation.

Don’t let the sun go down on your anger. Sort things out with each other before the day’s end.

Stealing

Not just stealing things, but also taking the credit or honour that belongs to another, especially God Hard work and generosity. 

Share what we have with those in need.

Unwholesome talk

Thoughtlessly taking God’s name in vain. Words and conversation that dishonour him Helpful words. Encouragement, wise counsel. Use your words to benefit people and build them up. 

Bitterness, rage, brawling, slander and every form of malice Kindness and compassion. Forgive each other as Christ has forgiven us

But buried in this wardrobe change is something quite different. Paul says,
Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God

What does it mean to grieve God’s Holy Spirit?

Some translations say, “don’t disappoint the Spirit", or “don’t bring sorrow” to him. But Paul uses a very strong word for grieve, that is normally only used of the pain or grief experienced by two people deeply in love with each other but torn apart by bereavement or betrayal. It means “don’t break his heart”. 

How do we grieve God’s Spirit? 

One answer is through our sin. And we can think about the things that Paul has just said we must take off:
• Lying
• Anger, and refusing to be reconciled to our brother or sister
• Theft
• Thoughtless and harmful words
• Harbouring bitterness and malice
These are all individual sins that will spoil our relationship with God and with each other, and therefore bring sorrow to God’s Holy Spirit.

But in the context of the whole of Ephesians, we need to remember that God’s plan is that the Church should display the manifold wisdom of God. We are called to be a foretaste of the unity and harmony that God intends to bring to the whole world. 

Therefore we grieve the Spirit when the church allows the spotlight to move off Christ, and onto individuals or issues. When we stop focusing on God’s purpose and our mission and, instead, become an exclusive members-only club: this distresses the Spirit. When the Church forgets that God has chosen us to be for the praise of His glorious grace, and instead it becomes a forum where people try to gain power, prestige and sometimes wealth: this will bring deep sorrow to the Spirit. When the Church splits up into factions, with anger, mutual disrespect and distrust displacing love and forbearance, this will break the Holy Spirit’s heart.

Jesus calls us to be the salt of the earth, and to allow our light to be seen by everyone. It grieves the Holy Spirit when the wonderful treasure that is within us is locked away, like salt in a saltcellar or a light hidden under a bucket. So we need to become that city set on a hill, whose light everyone can see.

The nature of the Spirit’s grief

But it’s important to understand the nature of the Holy Spirit’s grief. It is not a judgmental anger when we break God’s rules, like a teacher saying, “I told you not to do that!”. It is a deeply personal response as when a parent grieves over the destructive decisions made by their much-loved son or daughter. Think of the father of the prodigal son – he wasn’t upset that his son had taken half the family fortune or that he had squandered it to fuel his bad behaviour. The Father spent years grieving for the son he had lost, who had destroyed himself through ignoring wise counsel and making harmful choices. When the son finally returned there were no recriminations, only celebrations.

The Holy Spirit is broken hearted when we as individuals, or we as the Church, choose to travel away from God and the life of wisdom that he calls us to. It is a grief that springs from love, not from anger.

Commentator Jon Courson puts it well: God is not grieved by how our speech, anger, or malice affects Him, but by how it affects us. He’s grieved not because He can’t handle our sin, but because it hinders Him from doing His work in, through, and for us. 

And it’s important that we are sensitive as to when we are grieving God’s Spirit. He probably won’t shout at us, He’ll just withdraw sadly. So we need to keep returning, keep asking him to show us where we are hurting him, and keep asking for his help to change.

The wonderful news is that, although we can grieve the Holy Spirit, He will never reject us. Verse 30 says, “And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.” The Holy Spirit is God’s seal of ownership on us. He is never going to let us go. 

Conclusion

Paul sums up all this teaching in the first two verses of chapter five:

Be imitators of God, as dearly loved children, and live a life of love just as Christ loved us and gave himself for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

To imitate God, we must seek to imitate Jesus. We know enough about his character, his words and his actions to model ourselves on him. Many of the words Paul uses in our passage exactly describe Jesus:

Speaking the truth, using words to build others up, generosity, kindness, compassion. 

But it seems impossible for us to get anywhere near imitating Christ, and indeed it is. How many times have we failed and perhaps grieved the Holy Spirit of God? But once we set out on the journey of trying to become like Jesus, we are promised endless help and resources. It is the Holy Spirit’s job to sanctify us and change us, and he will do this as we make it our aim and seek his help. 

Let us close with the final blessing from Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians in chapter 3:
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Hugh Skeil

Sunday 28 July, Ninth after Trinity
Texts: 2 Samuel 11; 1-15, John 6: 1-21

Some of you may have heard already of the excellent work of the Scottish based charity Mary’s Meals and I’d like to begin with a question for you and that is how much does it cost the charity to provide a nutritious school meal for each of some 2.4 million children, mostly in Africa, over the course of a year?   The answer is £19.15 which works out at some 10pence per child for every school day. Thus, a Big Mac at £4.99 would provide fifty such meals and they would undoubtedly be considerably more nutritious than a Big Mac.  And just to provide a couple more contrasting figures the average weekly spend on food per person in this country is some £45 which would be more than enough to feed two children for an entire school year and having been most generously treated to a really superb meal recently I am aware that the cost of my meal alone could easily have  doubled that figure to four children per year. In providing such meals the charity ensures that children can go to school, be fed and gain essential education for a brighter future especially for girls. And, to me, there is a sort of parallel here between the work of the charity in feeding children so that they can have the opportunity to learn and the story of the miraculous feeding of the five thousand who were fed both physically and mentally by Jesus. Very little can feed a great many people.

Food. We all need food and in this country we are incredibly, and I do mean incredibly, blessed with the food that is available to us. And here is another statistic to ponder, namely that in the 1990s supermarkets stocked on average some 7,000 items and that figure has now risen to an almost incredible 40-50,000 items.  In all honesty is such a wealth of choice good for us especially when we take time to recall that such a cornucopia is quite unimaginable to the some 66.4 million people facing what is termed food stress in the Horn of Africa and the estimated 93% of Gaza’s population facing crisis levels of hunger?

So, in view of today’s readings what sense, if any, can we make of all this and what are we called to do in our Christian life which might in any way improve the lot of those who go hungry both physically and mentally today? I think the second question is perhaps easier to answer than the first in that obviously if it is within our means we can support charities such as our own home grown Trussell Trust which does such invaluable work with Food Banks up and down the country or charities such as Mary’s Meals or the United Nations Humanitarian Relief Efforts. But added to this I think we probably need to be  a lot more aware, or I certainly do, as to exactly where our food comes from.  how exactly it is produced and at what cost to the environment.  As one small example, one avocado tree requires some 18-23 gallons of water a day and such a thirst is causing significant water shortages in some countries and even drought. Do the farmers receive a fair deal or are they, in fact, badly exploited and are we aware that the food we may consume may well have been produced by the efforts of people caught up in modern slavery, including at least ten thousand in this country? And here I see a connection to our first reading when David who had all the riches anyone could possibly desire chose to take another man’s wife for his own gratification. What food are we consuming at the expense of the well-being of others is yet another question for this morning.  David who not only took another man’s wife but then when she found she was pregnant did all in his power to make it seem as if Uriah the husband was to blame. Again, do we try to shift any blame for the damage caused to the environment by the demands, for say exotic fruits, to others, be they the producers or the importers and not take any personal responsibility because we want to be able to buy them at any time of year in our supermarkets

But back to my question as to what we make of today’s readings, and I have already suggested how the story of David and Bathsheba could be seen to link in, but what about the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand? Five thousand people all fed with the identical, very simple food of barley loaves and fish.  Whoever we are, rich or poor, Jesus offers us all exactly the same menu, the same  incomparably nutritious food of compassionate love and redemptive forgiveness to sustain us and to allow us to grow in spiritual health, spiritual well-being.  Food offered to us at his sacrificial expense alone.  And here I am also reminded that it was not Jesus himself but his disciples who distributed the food and, in the same way, I think we are called to realise that so often it is the case that we are given spiritual food, spiritual nourishment by others, be they friend or stranger acting in the power of the Holy Spirit. And there is a lovely story known as the Parable of the Drowning Man to illustrate this point. 

A devoutly Christian man found himself stranded on the roof of his house during a flood. As the waters rose, he prayed to God for help. Soon, a man in a rowboat comes by and offers to save him. The stranded man declined, saying, “No, it’s okay. I’m praying to God, and He will save me.”

Later, a motorboat arrives, and the same scenario unfolds. The man refused help, believing that God would intervene directly. Finally, a helicopter hovered overhead, but once again, the man insisted that God would rescue him.

Tragically, the floodwaters continued to rise, and the man drowned. In the afterlife, he meets God and asks why God didn’t save him. God responds, “I sent you a rowboat, a motorboat, and a helicopter. What more did you expect?”

Let us pray that none of us when in need of help are too pig headed enough spurn the rowboat, the motorboat or the helicopter sent by God himself in response to our needs, our cries for Christ’s food of compassionate love and  redemptive forgiveness 

And as my final point this morning,  when the five thousand were fed they were ordered to sit in groups on the grass and enjoy the food in the company of others. That is yet another very good reason why coming to church gives us such a wonderful opportunity to enjoy being fed by Christ in the company of others and of joining together in grateful thanks and praise for what, if we think about i,t is yet another form of miraculous feeding. And having shared in his freely offered feast of the bread of heaven surely we, too, are called to go out and help  distribute the food of compassionate love and redemptive forgiveness to all who hunger be it in body, mind or soul  and, in the words of today’s collect, by God’s grace be enabled to bring forth the fruit of the Spirit in love and joy and peace to provide a feast for others.

Virginia Smith

Sunday 21 July, Eighth after Trinity
Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here.

9.00am Communion

Texts:  Ephesians 2: 11-end Mark 6: 30-34, 53-end

Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you

Like me I am sure you are horrified when we learn from the news last week that more innocent people have been killed in an Israeli bombing raid on the living hell that is life in Gaza at the present time. Like me you may well have asked ‘how can the Israelis do this?’ but we forget that, like them, the military of this country acted in just the same uncivilised way in the last war. The bombing of Cologne alone killed some twenty thousand civilians and destroyed or badly damaged almost twenty thousand homes. And why was Cologne chosen to have such punishment meted out by the RAF bombers? The answer was not for any military purposes but simply because Cologne just happened to be within range of the current navigation system. In all over six hundred thousand civilians were killed in Germany during World War 2 through allied bombing.  This figure compares with the far lower figure of some fifty-two thousand civilians killed in the UK by German bombing. Wars are tragic and the cost to civilian life is part of the price paid for waging any sort of conflict.  In a wide-ranging study of civilian war deaths from 1700 to 1987 by William Eckhardt   it states: on the average, half of the deaths caused by war happened to civilians, only some of whom were killed by famine associated with war...The civilian percentage share of war-related deaths remained at about 50% from century to century.’ A fact I found most interesting and a significant reminder that wars come at a huge  cost not just to  those who carry arms but also to unarmed, unprotected  civilians.

None of this is to excuse or condone what is happening to the population of Gaza as the Israelis try to wipe out the terrorist group Hamas with whom they have been in almost continuous conflict since 2007.   But that said, I think we are called upon to at least try to understand why they are so desperate to, if at all possible, eliminate Hamas and maybe  we could also find the time even to research some of the history which led to the creation of  the present State of Israel in 1948  by the seemingly cavalier  annexation of what had  for centuries been Palestinian Land.

Jesus would not have known outright war, of course, but he would have been very aware of terrorist groups such as the one to which Barabbas belonged and which had led an insurrection against the Roman occupiers. Barabbas, a terrorist and a murderer whom the crowd chose to be released by Pilate in preference to Jesus, the man of peace, the Prince of Peace. Jesus, The Prince of Peace, who told an amazing parable about a Samaritan coming to the aid of a badly injured man which must surely have incensed many Jews who heard it as the Samaritans were regarded as, at best, people to be avoided and scorned and, at worst, sworn enemies. Jesus the Prince of Peace who healed the servant of a Roman officer, a member of the occupying forces. Jesus the Prince of Peace who would not join with those who wished to stone a woman to death because of her adultery. Jesus the Prince of Peace who said: ‘if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also'. Jesus the Prince of Peace who, as he approached his hideously cruel death, asked for his Father’s forgiveness of his persecutors.  Knowing all this, can we appreciate what a paradox it was that the crowd outside Pilate’s headquarters chose to have a man of violence freed rather than a man of peace? What does this tell us about ourselves as human beings? And, one last question to mull over maybe after this service, namely can we recognise that in certain circumstances we, too, could be more that  capable of violence and of condoning violence in others?  

In our reading from Ephesians, we have a much more encouraging story as those first Gentile  believers were urged by Paul to recognise that the rite of circumcision was no longer to be a defining and absolute difference between Jew and Gentile but to recognise that in the risen Christ both the circumcised and the uncircumcised would  find that  ‘he is our peace, in his flesh he has made both groups into one, and has broken down the dividing wall, that is the hostility between us.’  Recognise. too .that ‘you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God…. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord.’ What an inspired picture Paul painted not just to the Ephesians but to all of us who choose to call ourselves Christians. Do we, in all honesty, share that vision of one amazingly united Church? Do we consciously  mean it when we say in the words of the Creed ‘We believe in one holy, catholic and apostolic Church or is our idea of ‘Church’ far more limited, more parochial?

I am absolutely certain that one of our most important roles as professed Christians is to do our utmost to be people of peace; people who, in our relationship with others, do not look for differences, do not express hatred of anyone, and I stress anyone, but  look always for the common ground of the gospel of love, the gospel of forgiveness and redemption for all our sins. We cannot stop the wars in Gaza, in Ukraine, in Sudan and in so many other places around God’s world but we can ensure that we live in love and peace with all whom we meet and be if nothing else an example to others to show that by God’s grace swords can be beaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks. (Isaiah 2: 4)

I would like to end with these words from a poem by Malcolm Guite: 'We too are called, in every generation to find in him our hope and strength, although the busy world around us falls apart, and all our towering schemes have been laid low. Now is the time to take his truth to heart and to be glad within the holy place that he himself has made in us, to start each day with him, abiding in his grace as he abides with us, to know his peace, to turn towards his light and seek his face, to let his loving spirit find release and flow through us into his weary world, that wrongs may be released and wars may cease.' May that be our prayer and our aim that ‘we may know his peace and let his loving spirit flow through us that wrongs may be released and wars may cease.

Virginia Smith 

6.00pm Evensong 

Texts: Mark 6:30-34, 53-56, Ephesians 2: 11-22, Jeremiah 23: 1-6 & Psalm 23

Now, O Lord, take my words and speak through them, take our minds and think through them, take our hearts & set them on fire with love for you, our strength and our Redeemer.

How many of us know passages of Scripture by heart? I confess I don’t know many, but there is one that I’m sure most of us know pretty well – Psalm 23 The Lord is My Shepherd. There is a bit of a Shepherding theme in our readings today and I want to look at how they all link together.

In our Gospel reading from Mark, we hear that the disciples have returned exhausted from their first solo mission without Jesus. They have been travelling to various districts, preaching and healing for two weeks – too busy even to eat. Jesus encourages them to rest, so they get in a boat to find ‘a deserted place by themselves’. No such luck! They must have been very successful in their mission because they were recognised and followed by the crowd.

Jesus doesn’t turn away these needy people – he feels compassion for them. The Hebrew word for compassion is a wonderful one – SPLAGCHNIZOMAI – which means a deep visceral sympathy – literally a feeling ‘from the guts’! Jesus recognises that they were like ‘sheep without a shepherd’ and like the Good Shepherd that he is, he is moved to provide for them.

Psalm 23 tells us that the Lord is MY shepherd – God has compassion for US - he provides everything that we need: rest, peace, he restores and refreshes our souls, inspires us and guides us.

We need have no fear. The rod and staff symbolise God’s strength and protection. The shepherd’s rod was to protect the sheep from predators; the staff, often with a hook or crook at the end, was to guide the sheep away from danger.

We are also promised in the psalm that God will ‘spread a table in the presence of our enemies’, that is, in the midst of our problems and sufferings, he will be there providing for us. He will spread a table – a banquet – he is generous in his provision for us.

In Biblical times, anointing with oil was a courtesy offered to an honoured guest. It is refreshing, cleansing and a sign of welcome and respect. It is used in the consecration of a monarch - a sign that someone has been set apart for a special calling or purpose. The title 'Christ' comes from the Greek 'chrīstós', meaning 'anointed one'. Oil also has healing and nourishing properties – interestingly, the Hebrew word used - ‘deshanta’ – can also mean fertiliser – God is feeding and nourishing us in order that we will flourish like beautiful plants.

God gives us so much.

In the Old Testament reading for today, Jeremiah writes that there are bad shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep. Those who were given the care of God’s people were not attending them and had driven them away, but God promises to raise up good shepherds who will gather them together again, guard them, guide them, and keep them safe and peaceful – they need have no more fear.

The Epistle from Ephesians also speaks of a gathering of God’s people. In Jeremiah it refers to the children of Israel, but here it is extended to all. We are no longer ‘strangers and aliens’, but ‘citizens with the saints and members of God’s household’.

He brings us together and having secured us, nourishes us, calms us and provides for us – he also dwells with us – so close is he to us that he calls us his dwelling place.

Texts: Ephesians 2 concludes that ‘We are built spiritually into a dwelling place for God’

Psalm 23 ends ‘In God’s house forevermore, our dwelling place shall be.’

God is in us and we in him. What does that mean for us and our everyday life?

Imagine how those disciples felt after their exhausting mission – somewhat like we feel after a heavy day of work, a trying time with teenagers or children, a period of worry over finances or health – ourselves or loved ones, or a time of grief – loss of loved ones or a way of life – remember that we can rest secure in the knowledge that whatever troubles and trials we have, God is there with us.

We see him in those around us who show us love and kindness, we see him in Jesus, his life and example and he lives in us, ready to hear our cries and worries with compassion – The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

Amen

Hilary Swift

Sunday 14 July, Seventh after Trinity
Text: Ephesians 1:3-14

Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians is a wonderful book for any Christian to spend their devotional time with. It is just six chapters long. It can easily be read in one sitting. And it is filled with important insights on our Christian faith in broad terms, but also very specific teachings on how we are to live out our Christian faith. 
Today’s passage begins right after Paul’s initial greeting and is a wonderful blessing for all that God has done for us. 
It is a blessing that starts in verse 3, and doesn’t conclude until verse 14. In the original Greek, it is one long, run-on sentence. It is almost as if Paul can never say enough when he is praising God!
When Paul blesses God in this passage, or praises God, what is the first thing that he thanks God for? He thanks God for choosing us. 
Blessed be God because “he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world.” Isn’t that amazing? Even before the world was formed, God knew you. God had already planned to create you, and decided to have this amazing relationship with you. You and I have been chosen to be part of God’s family. It is an amazing, freeing, truth, when we really embrace it.
God chose us, in Christ. We can be confident of that. And even when our plans for this life don’t work out, we can fall back on this knowledge – that God has chosen us, and no choice of ours takes this away.
But let’s think a little more about what Paul means by this, because he has a very specific meaning in mind. 
Paul grew up reading the Old Testament. That was his Bible. And a very prominent theme in the Old Testament is that Israel is God’s chosen people. It begins with Abraham, whom God chose to be the father of many nations, and through whom all nations would be blessed. Abraham was chosen and blessed in order to be a blessing to others. That theme continues when Abraham’s descendants are rescued from Egypt. In Deuteronomy 7:6, for example, God’s people are told: “You are a people holy to the LORD your God; the LORD your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on earth to be his people, his treasured possession.” The Israelites were God’s chosen people, and they were chosen for a purpose.
They were chosen to be a light to the nations, and to bless all nations of the world. 
Sometimes we think of being chosen as simply meaning we have a first-class ticket to Heaven, and we get to be at the front of the line. More often, though, when we think of being chosen, we worry about those people that God has not chosen. But that really isn’t what Paul is talking about here. Paul is simply telling us that we are the new Israel; we have been chosen to bless the world. 
The church, the disciples that Jesus has called, have been chosen to be a light to the nations. We have been chosen to do God’s work on this earth – to care for the poor and the sick, to feed the hungry, to bring hope to the hopeless, to strive for justice and peace, and to do all of this in the name of Jesus. That is what we have been chosen for.
We have been chosen in Christ, as Paul puts it, to be holy and blameless before God in love. There’s only one problem with that, and you’ve probably already figured it out. Who among us believes that they are holy and blameless? I’m not holy and blameless, and I’m guessing you’re not, either.
As Paul reminds us elsewhere, none of us are. The nation of Israel wasn’t. The church certainly isn’t. And none of us as individuals are, either. 
And that, of course, is why we need Jesus. We need one who IS holy and blameless. We don’t always get it right. But Jesus does. He is God’s chosen one, who is always holy and blameless. He is God’s beloved, in whom God is well pleased. He is God’s treasured possession. He is the light to the nations. He is the promised descendent of Abraham. He is the one in whom all nations, all peoples, are to be blessed.
And we who place our trust in him, in this chosen one, are adopted into his family. 
We haven’t just been chosen, Paul reminds us: we have been chosen in Christ. And as the next verses go on to remind us, we have been adopted into God’s chosen family through Jesus. God has chosen for us to be part of God’s family; and in case we are tempted to forget it, God has marked us with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit. 
Life gets confusing, and we question our choices at times, and we are hurt by other people’s choices at other times. But in the midst of the confusion and chaos that sometimes swirls around us, there is this wondrous fact: That we have been chosen in Christ. 
One of my heroes in the faith is the Lutheran pastor, theologian, and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer. A remarkable man who resisted the Nazis and was imprisoned and executed just days before the allied forces liberated the concentration camp where he was being held. While in prison, Bonhoeffer had the opportunity to write numerous letters, and even compose some poems. One of his poems always surprises me with its honesty. And it’s a good example of how important it can be to know that we have been chosen by God in Christ. It is called “Who Am I?” Here it is:
Who am I? They often tell me
I step out from my cell
calm and cheerful and poised,
like a squire from his manor.

Who am I? They often tell me
I speak with my guards
freely, friendly and clear,
as though I were the one in charge.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bear days of calamity
serenely, smiling and proud,
like one accustomed to victory.

 Am I really what others say of me?
Or am I only what I know of myself?
Restless, yearning, sick, like a caged bird,
struggling for life breath, as if I were being strangled,
starving for colours, for flowers, for birdsong,
thirsting for kind words, human closeness,
shaking with rage at power lust and pettiest insult,
tossed about, waiting for great things to happen,
helplessly fearing for friends so far away,
too tired and empty to pray, to think, to work,
weary and ready to take my leave of it all?

Who am I? This one or the other?
Am I this one today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? Before others a hypocrite
and in my own eyes a pitiful, whimpering weakling?
Or is what remains in me like a defeated army,
Fleeing in disarray from victory already won?

 Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, thou knowest me; O God, I am thine!

Bonhoeffer struggled with this question of who he was, and don’t we all? We are rarely all that we want to be, and we can get discouraged by that, just as Bonhoeffer did. These lonely questions can mock us and trouble us. But what Bonhoeffer comes back to, at the end of it all, is his faith and conviction that, whoever we are, we are God’s. God has chosen us. What a powerful truth to rest in, and to build our lives on – that we are God’s. No matter who we are. For we have been chosen in Christ. 
We have been chosen to live, as Paul concludes this passage, “to the praise of God’s glory.” What does that mean? Well, Paul will spend a good portion of this letter explaining what that means. This letter is filled with very specific teachings on what it means to live as God’s chosen people in Christ; and how we are to live to the praise of God’s glory.
But first, Paul wants to make sure that we really understand and believe that God has chosen us in Christ. It is no longer just the Israelites who have been chosen by God. It is all of us who set our hope on Christ. It is you and me. Chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world. Every one of us. God’s treasured possession. A light to the nations. Chosen in Christ, before the foundation of the world, to live for the praise of God’s glory. Blessed to be a blessing.
Blessed be the God who has blessed us in Christ, and chosen us to be a blessing to our world.
Amen. 
Rev'd Kia

Sunday 7 July, Sixth after Trinity
Texts:  2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10, 2 Corinthians 12:2-10

Have you ever been to a dinner party where people are exchanging stories? 
Someone will start to tell of an experience, of something they did, or someone they met and there will always be that one person who has been somewhere better, met someone more famous or been somewhere more exotic.
A one -up-man-ship ensues and after a while you just give up, go silent and let them get on with it!
Well Paul found himself in a similar situation with the Corinthians, but he didn’t let it go – he rolled his sleeves up and got involved – he was never one to sit on the sidelines!
The Corinthians had been bragging about their Spiritual Experiences – how having spiritual gifts put them above others, made them more powerful, more important – more worthy.
So Paul wades in with the best one-up-man-ship there is.
At the end of his previous speech he gives them chapter and verse of his qualifications – ‘Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they descendants of Abraham? So am I’– and he goes on.
But then it takes a twist.
Instead of lauding it over them with his accomplishments – the churches he has planted, the countless people he has influenced – he starts listing all his hardships, all the personal sacrifices he has made to bring them the good news, he has ‘far greater labours, far more imprisonments, with countless floggings, and often near death. Five times I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked……. In toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked.”
And not only has he suffered physically but mentally too, “And, besides other things, I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for all the churches.”
He has turned the one-up-man-ship on it’s head.
He has not come to them to prove his Spirituality, his holiness or his own power but to impress upon them his weaknesses.
Can you imagine doing that in a dinner party where people are trying to impress one another with their stories of adventure, social climbing or wealth?
If we led with our weaknesses rather than our strengths? If we embraced Jesus’ upside down kingdom?
If we allowed our humanity to show, with all it’s flaws and fragility rather than always presenting what we think is the best version of ourselves, I wonder how God would work in us?
Paul acknowledges his weaknesses because he knows that by doing so he can allow God to work through him more completely.
Paul has a ‘thorn in the flesh’, whether this is metaphorical or actual we don’t know, but he had some sort of affliction that kept him humble and close to God. And he saw it as gift – “three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, “my grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness”.
I have had the privilege of walking alongside recovering alcoholics who epitomise this and demonstrate how this works.
To the outsider being an alcoholic might appear to be horrendous – and indeed it is when the disease is active and they are completely consumed by it. But when in recovery there is a joy and lightness that they exude. They will always be an alcoholic in recovery, they will always have the ‘thorn in the flesh’ but it keeps them close to God, or as the twelve steps of AA puts it ‘a power greater than them’.
They have handed their will and their lives over to a God of their understanding, they have surrendered all of themselves and in doing so they have received life.
Jesus’ upside-down kingdom.
There is power in weakness.
We all have things that we keep hidden that we don’t share; things that bring us shame or guilt, our own ‘thorn in the flesh’ – our weaknesses – but once acknowledged, shared and surrendered to God we can be made whole.
And as Paul so wonderfully puts it, “So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong”.
Amen.

Rev'd Kia

Sunday 30 June, Fifth after Trinity
Text: Mark 5: 21 to the end

Let’s try to imagine we are right in the midst of the scene in the Gospel reading this morning.

Where do we look, who do we notice, which path to follow?  Who do you acknowledge when you are being mobbed?   With no opportunities for proper conversation, people know who Jesus is but haven’t yet met him face to face.  However, Jairus, one of the leaders of the synagogue comes before Jesus.  He falls at Jesus’ feet and begs Jesus to come and lay his hands on his daughter who is dying so that she can be made well and live. 

Jairus puts aside his dignity and pride. He ignores his position. His daughter is dying and all he can do is fall at the feet of Jesus and beg him to come to his house to heal her. Jairus shows faith, believing that if Jesus comes to his house his daughter will be healed and will not die. Without argument or question, Jesus agrees to go with Jairus and just as he is leaving, and still with the crowd pressing and surrounding Jesus, there is an interruption. 

We are told about someone else who is in this crowd. 

Then here is a woman who has had a blood disorder for 12 years. This means that she has been considered unclean for 12 long years.  She has suffered at the hands of doctors, spent all she had, and had grown worse, not better.  She has no money left.  Her health is worse.  People avoid touching her because she is unclean. She is in hopeless despair.  No one can help her. Nothing can be done about her condition.

But there is just one thing left to her. 

She has heard about Jesus.  She thinks that all she needs to do is to touch Jesus’ clothes and she will be made well.  So she comes up behind Jesus and does just that.  Now imagine that. Think about her reaching out to touch Jesus while this crowd is thronging around and pressing into Jesus.  She doesn’t want to disturb anyone so quietly she moves in and moves out again without anyone noticing her.   She touches his clothes and immediately she felt in her body that she was healed. But just as immediately as she felt her disease be healed, Jesus realized that power had gone out of him. Just as she is trying to move away, Jesus turns around in the crowd and asks, “Who touched me?” 

Suddenly we hold our breath in this moment – what will happen now? The story has suddenly stopped. 

The disciples are astonished! “You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?  ’Everyone is touching you! We are being mobbed!”  Can you imagine the trepidation this woman is now experiencing?  She was not supposed to touch Jesus because she is unclean and would have made him unclean. But she had no need to be fearful.   Falling down before Jesus, and she tells him the whole story. 

But listen to Jesus’ response: “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”   Her faith has delivered her. To go in peace is not to be afraid of what she had done but to go in the wholeness and completeness of life.   She believed in the power of Jesus and acted on that faith in what Jesus could do for her.

You may by now have forgotten how this account began. 

Let’s remember Jairus has a dying daughter that Jesus is going to see and while Jesus is talking to the woman whom he healed, people came from Jairus’ house and said, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the Teacher any further?”  These are the worst words any parent could possibly hear at this moment.  But Jesus turns to Jairus and tells him, “Do not fear. Only believe.” 

Only believe. 

You just need to believe in him and that is all. Have faith.  Notice too what else Jesus does. Jesus doesn’t allow anyone to follow him except Peter, James, and John. No more crowds are following and not even his own disciples are following at this moment.  One can imagine the quiet walk that Jairus is taking with Jesus and three of his disciples.  They arrive at Jairus’ house and find there is a crowd of people weeping and wailing loudly. ‘Why are you making a commotion and weeping?’ says, Jesus. ‘The child is not dead but sleeping’.

Here Jesus is making a point about who he is and what he is able to do. Jesus takes the girl by the hand and says to her, “Little girl, I say to you, arise.”  But she has been dead long enough for a messenger to be sent to Jairus and still travel back to his house.  But here we see the power of Jesus.  Immediately the girl gets up and walks around, amazing everyone. And yet again we see that Jesus brings restoration and healing to the afflicted.

And so what is asked of us so that we can enjoy cleansing and life?   What did the woman with the blood disorder need? She only needed faith in the power of Jesus. 

What did Jairus need? He only needed faith in the power of Jesus. 

In fact, this is exactly what Jesus tells the woman.  Look again at verse 34: “Your faith has made you well.” Look at what Jesus tells Jairus in verse 36: “Only believe.” If you will believe you can be made well.   If you will only have faith you can be healed. What we see in this passage is what was only needed was faith.  Jesus’ challenge to all is to simply have great faith in who he is. Both the woman and Jairus were out of options and were desperate. 

We need to see that we have nothing to lose and everything to gain - like the woman and like Jairus.  Faith is acting according to God’s word even when we are afraid. We have faith when we act. This is what we see with the woman and with Jairus. We gain the courage to act in faith in the face of fear by remembering that God is with us.  Faith is not fearlessness. Faith is acting despite one’s fear.  Perhaps we have had the luxury of viewing our faith as an emotional experience and not being tested in a situation where our lives were seriously at risk.

If we listen to his word we will be changed and humbled and be shown how to fulfil his call upon our lives,   If we hold him at the centre of the way we live, our daily lives with all the ups and downs, we can have faith in knowing he is like us and able to empathise with us, able to be with us in the boat as well as to save us.  The Gospel of Mark is giving us what the perspective of life for a disciple must be. 

We will come to Jesus with only our faith in our hands and nothing else because we know we have nothing else to give him. 

Amen.

Rev'd Caroline Lazenby

Sunday 23 June
Texts:  Psalm 107: 1-3, 23-32,  Mark 4: 35-end

Have any of you, like me, been at one time or another frightened by the power of the sea and been fearful for your own safety? The first time I remember being scared when, as a fairly young child, I ventured into a rough and churning Norfolk Sea and found myself bowled over and sucked under by a large wave. I was even more scared when the same thing happened when, considerably older, I was caught unawares and well and truly sucked under by a vast breaking Pacific roller and, for a moment, felt complete panic that I might never breathe fresh air again. And the third time was when I was taken sailing again off the Norfolk Coast and tried hard not to reveal how terrified I was as the boat rose at right angles to the sea.  Fortunately, we were in the hands of an expert sailor who thought such an experience was simply a part of the joy of sailing; I was not convinced!

There is no doubt the sea can be extremely dangerous, and the Sea of Galilee is no exception where, because of the geographical lay-out, sudden violent storms can all too easily erupt and transform placid water into a turbulent nightmare of wildly unrestrained wind and crashing waves. No wonder the disciples, seasoned fishermen though some were, were terrified that their lives could well be in danger as Jesus appeared to be quite oblivious to their peril. 

But reflecting on all this I think that whoever we are we may well have experienced not just actual rough seas but the metaphorical rough seas of distressing fear, of unsolved and pressing dilemmas and problems  and disturbing, stomach churning  worries and, if you are anything like me, these ‘storms’ are of the sort that will leave us awake in the middle of the night doing our own tossing and turning as we try to calm ourselves and make sense of all such emotions. And when this happens to me, which I assure you it does, I have learned that, like those disciples in that little boat, the only way to find that calm is to seek God’s presence, seek to be sheltered under the safety of his protecting love. It’s not easy. Those fears, worries and dilemmas have at that time of night a firm hold but if one is ever to regain soothing restorative sleep, I find, again and again, I have to trust in God with all my heart. Trust that, with him beside, I can wake next morning to discover that those dark hour’s waves will have become, if not completely calm, at least manageable and also quite often seen to be not nearly as bad as in my fertile, overwrought  night time imagination.

And this is where I find today’s psalm such a help and, indeed, a comfort, and it has become one of my favourites with its repeated words of: ‘Then they called to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out from their distress.’ And in the verses that were read this morning these words are followed by: ‘he made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.’ Words, of course, which compliment those in Mark’s gospel account of that great storm on the sea of Galilee: ‘And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who is this that even the wind and the sea obey him?”  

In a world that at times seems so deeply troubled and where so many are truly experiencing not simply the distress of those wakeful night hours but the dire, at times unspeakable distress caused by war and famine, it strikes me that our need for God’s steady, protective and calming presence is all the more essential in our lives. A presence to reassure us and give us renewed courage to face up to our own troubles and all that distresses us.   A presence to help put our own worries and problems into a right perspective and recognise the truism that there are so many people far worse off than any of us are.  People, both known to us and unknown, who are in need of our help, our comforting and our  protecting once, with God’s help,  we have reassessed and learned how we can best face up to and  deal rationally and calmly with our own problems  

Our second hymn this morning is so appropriate to the theme of my sermon with those wonderful words: ‘Lead us Heav’nly Father lead us o’er the world’s tempestuous sea; guard us, guide us, keep us, feed us, for we have no help but thee; yet possessing ev’ry blessing if our God our Father be.’  Words we might well like to repeat, or even sing, on those storm-tossed wakeful nights or, indeed, whenever we fear being overpowered by the giant breakers of life which are surely common to all of us over a lifetime. So, too, these beautiful words of a Gaelic prayer can also help to reassure us that however fearful, however distressed  we are, God is there with us and will not leave us: ‘As the rain hides the stars, as the Autumn mist hides the hills, as the clouds veil the blue of the sky, so the dark happenings of my lot hide the shining of Thy face from me. Yet if I may hold Thy hand in the darkness it is enough…..Since I know, that though I may stumble in my going, Thou dost not fall.’

I pray that not only will we learn always  to call to God  when our courage melts away, when we are seemingly at our wit’s end and discover his eternal power to make the storms be still and the waves hushed but then, once restored to a safe haven, we can, in response to his goodness, his steadfast love, exalt him with the words of today’s last hymn: ‘Now thank we all our God, with hearts and hands and voices, who won’drous things hath done, in  whom this world rejoices; who from our mother’s arms hath blesses us on our way with countless gifts of love and still is ours today.’

Psalm 107 by Malcolm Guite
My Judge is still my saviour and my friend,
Time after time he finds and rescues me,
Makes a beginning where I’ve made an end.

I was astray and yet he came to me
And filled my hungry soul with nourishment.
I sat in darkness, bound in misery.

Crushed by depression and discouragement,
He brought me out of darkness, broke the chain,
The complex links of my imprisonment.

When I was sick and wearies and in pain,
Afraid of pestilence in these dark days,
He sent his word and raised me up again.

So I will sing this psalm that sings his praise,
Telling of all the wonders he has done,
Whose loving- kindness keeps me all my days.

Virginia Smith

Sunday 16 June, Fathers Day
Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here.

9.00am Communion
Texts Genesis 17: 1-7,  Luke 15: 11-24

This week I officiated at a funeral when a truly delightful and heartfelt tribute was given to their dad by his three sons. And listening to it I knew that this had been a very real father, a hands-on dad who had throughout his life loved sharing his interests and passing on his skills to not just his sons but his grandchildren as well. Whether it was teaching them how to mix cement, cook a whole chicken on a barbecue or ensuring that, like him, they became Arsenal supporters, he helped shape their lives. By contrast my own father was of that generation where it was expected that fathers earned the pennies and mothers brought up the children and cared for the home so, in all honesty, as children we did not have a great deal to do with him  However, when I was considered  old enough to go to  London alone, he would invite me to join him for lunch and then to see a film which was a huge treat and made me feel very grown up. Although I was not quite so pleased the day we went to see that epic film Ben Hur and he became bored by its length and insisted we crept out about half-way through and to this day I’ve never seen the ending. But at least my father did not insist, as Eric Newby’s father did, ‘that my bowels should be opened at precisely the same moment every morning’ and  no matter the temperature I should also have a cold bath every morning. Presumably such a regime helped him become the intrepid traveller for which he is famed, though Newby did admit the cold baths did nothing to abate what his father termed as ‘filthy thoughts’ whatever they may be!

So, yes, fathers come in all sorts and sizes just as all God’s children do and in the way of things some embrace the role with true delight, some not so much and some, sadly who never even begin to take on the role of fathering their children and being an integral part of a loving caring family. And with this in mind we should I think be very aware that for some people this day like its companion celebrating mothers can be a difficult, disturbing and emotionally testing time. And even when the father is as good as they get, families may well be made to feel somehow inadequate when there are simply not the finances to buy any of those lavish over-priced gifts which the adverts tell us all fathers deserve,

Our two readings today both tell us about fathers. The first about Abraham and how God told him he was, by virtue of God’s blessing and unbreakable covenant, to become the father of many nations. And this, to m,e paints a wonderful picture of all the nations of the earth as comprising one great  family;  but a  family like all families which is widely diverse and each nation will boast its own characteristics, its own ways of doing things just as we see here in Great Britain with the English, the Scots, the Welsh and the Irish all proud of their unique nationhood but united not simply as the United Kingdom of Britain but  far more importantly with all earth’s countries as the united Kingdom of God.

And our second reading is that wonderful parable Jesus told to illustrate just what Abba, God the Father, is like and of his love for us his children. This father went totally against the customs of the time and acceded to his second son’s request to have his share of the inheritance now while his father was still very much alive and thus enabled his son to have  the freedom to choose his own path in life. Such an act would have caused shock and even outrage to the community at what was not just counter cultural but would have been seen as very unwise one by that father.  From this generous act alone this parable teaches us that God, as a Father, does not dictate to us; does not insist that we follow his example, his plans for our future but are liberated by the gifts he gives to make our own way in life and use those gifts as we. see fit.

And as the story continues, we learn that the second son used that gift, that inheritance he had been given unwisely, making for himself fair weather friends who quickly deserted him when the money ran out. Then we are told of his desolate and parlous state as, impoverished and friendless, he is forced to find work feeing pigs, a task of course which would have been deemed utterly abhorrent to Jesus’ Jewish listeners. And then, in the depths of his despair, the son comes to realise that the only sensible course he can now follow is to return, in abject repentance, to his father not expecting more from him than to be classed no longer as his son but at best as one of his father’s paid workers.

But what does he discover as he approaches his old home, full of fear and trepidation as to just what sort of welcome he will receive? He discovers his father running, yes, running to greet him; again, a completely counter cultural act, a reprehensibly undignified act according to the customs of the time, but this is a father who has his own unique rules of behaviour. Here is his lost son for whom he has prayed and waited and watched out for day after long day, now returning to him and in the joy of that moment he runs! Runs to embrace him in his love, to kiss him with love. This is a love which does not hold back; a love which is not tinged with reproaches, judgement or bitterness, a love which is not bound by any restraints but is wholeheartedly a love of mercy, a love of forgiveness, a love which is to us almost incomprehensible as it is so far removed from our own often very limited efforts to love one another.

What that foolish second son received is what we are all offered when we too stray from our spiritual home and then come to our senses and turn back in sorrow for our misdeeds, our sinning, our foolish notion that we could make our own way in life without God to guide and protect us  and find ourselves embraced in love and hear the words ‘you were lost but now you are found’.

A wonderful and affirming parable I am sure you will agree and a parable that, I pray, teaches us that in God we are all given a father unlike any earthly father, however good that father might be.  A father who will always be there for us; a father who gives us freedom to go our own way, make what we will of our lives but a father, who no matter how badly we have erred and strayed, will be there to run out and welcome us home when we turn back to him in repentance and in faith. And whether our own fathers were or are huggers or not, in our Father God we can experience the wonder, the security of being held within an unrestrained, unparalleled bear hug of love.

I pray you can sing along with the last hymn to be sung at Wotton on Sunday and have complete confidence and trust that whatever our earthly father is or was like in God we do all have a heavenly Father to celebrate with truly  joyful, thankful hearts and voices not just  on Sunday but every day gifted to us  from God our Father; ’Great is thy faithfulness O God our Father. Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth, thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide; strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow, blessings all mine and ten thousand beside.’

never to waken in that world.

Virginia Smith

6.00pm Evensong
Texts: 2 Corinthians 5, 6-10, Mark 4.26-34     

Today’s gospel compares The Kingdom of God to seed, which is why I am asking you to take a seed from the containers that are being passed around and to hold it safely in the palm of your hand as I explore the gospel theme with you. 

Preachers will often point out that, in order to fully appreciate Jesus’ choice of illustrations, we need to remember that his original listeners were rural folk, steeped in the ways of simple agriculture. The choice of a seed to illustrate the Kingdom would therefore have been perfectly understandable. I imagine that in some parts of the country such an illustration might not connect with people’s daily life experiences, but I think that in Coldharbour, we are privileged to be surrounded by product of seeds – I also imagine that many of you – like myself – are also keen gardeners.

My husband, Paddy, and I moved into our house just before Christmas. We inherited a large garden which simply consisted of field grass. Since then, I have spent every free moment creating flower beds and filling them with plants – I am particularly proud of my Sunflowers and Cosmos which I have grown from tiny seeds. Each morning, I go for a walk around the garden and see what the seedlings have done during the night. It is also the perfect opportunity to marvel at God’s creation and to give thanks. 

We also have oak trees over-hanging our garden; so I often find myself removing oak seedlings – of course from a small acorn mighty  oaks will grow – which might not be a good idea in the middle of a flower bed!

I can easily identify with the farmer in the first parable:
Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head.

I need the intervention of the Almighty creator to germinate the seed and realise it’s potential. All I have done is put it in the correct soil or compost.

But of course this Bible passage is not meant to be a Biblical version of Gardener’s World. Instead it is telling us something important about the growth of God’s kingdom. 

To return to the seed I have given you. You may have realised that it is a mustard seed – as mentioned in the second parable. It is so tiny that if you drop it on the floor or pew– you may well struggle to find it again. And yet this tiniest of seeds has the amazing potential to create a plant so large, that birds can sit in it. 

Perhaps we don’t grow many mustard plants in the UK but just think of the acorn creating the mighty oak. Inside that mustard seed – inside the acorn - is a potential which, rationally, is difficult to comprehend. We often take it for granted and yet it is a miracle.

So how might we reflect on this potential miracle?

I would like to suggest three scenarios where the seed of God’s kingdom has potential and – in many cases- has already produced a harvest.

Let me take you back to your childhood. Since it is Father’s Day some of you might be able to envisage your father – and then your mother. I would hazard a guess that without your parents, you would not be sitting in church this morning. 

Christians believe that we are all made in the image of God, but  - just as God often requires human help to plant a seed in the right growing medium – he also requires human help to take the tiny seed of faith and plant it within a child so that it can grow and flourish. 

Thinking of your own childhood , who helped by planting that seed of faith within you? Was it your parents – or your godparents - fulfilling the promises that they made at your christening – was it a Sunday school or a primary school teacher?  Who taught you the stories from the Bible which helped your faith seed to germinate and grow? Who taught you how to pray and worship? Who brought you to church as a young child? Who showed you, by their Christian example, how to imitate Christ?

In a moment of quiet, perhaps we can give thanks for the childhood influences we had which has resulted in our Christian faith of today. Look at that mustard seed in the palm of your hand and thank God for those people.

To return to our gospel reading.
Jesus says he’s using those examples to illustrate the kingdom of God 
Jesus teaches that the kingdom of God is not a place, but a process.
That’s worth repeating the kingdom of God is not a place, but a process.

 Like a tiny seed it has the potential to grow. For his agriculturally experienced listeners, Jesus describes a hugely complex subject in simple terms: the kingdom of God is “as if” someone scatters seed and it grows; it is “like” a small seed that grows into a huge tree.

So, if Jesus is suggesting that the kingdom of God is a process, what kind of process is that? 

The process is the trust God puts in us as individuals. God is trusting us to help grow that kingdom on earth. Like, the mustard seed, we might feel so insignificant in the greater scheme of things, that our efforts are worthless, but our faith and hope in God’s plan for his kingdom is all that is necessary. 

So the second scenario I would like you to reflect on is the opportunities you have taken to help grow the faith seed in others.

If you have been fortunate enough to have children in your life – either your own or someone else’s - have you found opportunities to encourage their faith seeds? Have you had the privilege to see them grow in faith? ( As a caveat, I might add that as parent, we sometimes despair about our children’s apparent lack of faith, but God WILL be at work within them, I can guarantee, even if it might not be within the time frame we would prefer). 

But apart from children, have you taken the opportunities to share your faith with others? To encourage your friends and adult family members? Not all of us find it easy to speak about our faith – but there are many ways in which we can show what a difference our faith makes in our lives – the choices we make about the use of our time – the words and actions we choose to use.

 Our integrity and  compassion can help to grow that tiny seed of faith in others. We may not witness the final outcome, but each time we share God’s love with someone else, that seed has the potential to grow a little bit more..

But the first parable underlines the fact that we need God’s help. We can’t do it on our own. Just as God makes the seed grow in due course, and the farmer “does not know how”, God can help us to do amazing things in the service of the kingdom.

So how can we help the kingdom grow? And how can we allow God to help us in this task? 

Let’s look at our seed and ask God to provide us with opportunities to help others’ faith seeds to grow

My final scenario is to reflect on how God uses us as a community to help the faith seeds of others to grow.

Jesus’ life’s work was to proclaim the coming of God’s Kingdom and, as Christians, it beholds us to do likewise. It is a contradiction in terms to call ourselves a Christian community and yet not proclaim the gospel to the others –  and particularly to the community that we live in – through our Christ like words and actions.

There is another well known Biblical verse: The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.

We only have to consider the number of people in this parish who are unaffected or perhaps even unaware of God’s Kingdom, to see how true this verse is. 

So how can we – as a Christian community-  help the kingdom grow? And how can we allow God to help us in this task? 

I think one of the most important ways in which this community can grow the kingdom of God, is to be radically welcoming. By a radical welcome, I mean going out of our way to welcome everyone who comes through the door, whether we think we might have something in common with them or not. I have to say that one of the reasons Paddy and I chose our current place of worship, our home parish, was the welcome that we received when we first went there. It made such a difference. 

That welcome can be extended to anyone who walks through the church door. You don’t even need to necessarily have a conversation, just a smile in someone’s direction can be so effective. Sometimes people feel uneasy – perhaps they haven’t been to church for a while – or perhaps have never been and this is their first time – perhaps they have children with them (Alleluia!) and they are worried about their child disturbing others – it is privilege to be able to share the love of God and his unconditional welcome to all – and thus the kingdom grows.

Another way of our community growing the kingdom is through the so called 'outreach' events that are open to all – whether they come to church on a Sunday or not. I know that in Coldharbour there are a number of community events where the church plays a significant part.  For some people coming to a service is not where they are on their faith journey, but sharing a community celebration with friendly members of the congregation can have a lasting positive impact on their faith journey. Each opportunity can help to show that Christians can have fun and are ‘normal’!  The list of opportunities are endless.

What we do, as much as what we say, can begin to sow the seeds of faith in those around us.

So for the final time let us look at our seed and pray for all the opportunities we have as a congregation to help God’s kingdom grow in this place. 

So the tiny seed in your palm can provide much ‘food for thought’:As a sign of gratitude to those many people who encouraged your ‘faith seed’ to bring you to where you are today.
As a reminder to look for opportunities to encourage the growth of ‘faith seeds’ in those we come into contact within our daily lives.
And finally, to inspire us as a congregation to provide many opportunities as possible to share God’s love for the community that we serve. 

A final thought from our epistle: For Christ’s love compels us, …………………………… he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.   

Amen

Rev Mandy McVean

Sunday 9 June, The Second after Trinity
Texts: Genesis 3:8-15, Mark 3:20-35

 I remember a gentlemen telling me that his greatest fear is that someday he will be found out. “What do you mean?” I said. “That they will know I’m not who I say I am; that I’m not who I want them to think I am; that I’m not who I want to be” he answered. Beneath his fear he knows there are cracks in his house. He knows that a divided house cannot stand and a divided kingdom will crumble.

From the beginning of his ministry, as told by Mark, Jesus has been dealing with divided houses and kingdoms. He has cast out demons, healed Peter’s mother-in-law, cleansed a leper, and caused a paralytic to walk. The houses and kingdoms of these people are divided. 

The strong man has invaded their homes. Their lives are not their own. They live with inner conflict and turmoil. They have been separated from their community and all that gave them security and identity. Their outer conditions of illness, paralysis, and possession point to the inner conflict; the battle between health and disease, not just physically but, more importantly, spiritually.

That battle and interior conflict has been around since Adam and Eve separated themselves from God and hid amongst the trees of the garden. It is seen in Israel wanting a king so it can be like all the other nations; forgetting that it has a unique calling, that it is to be different from other nations, that it is through Israel, the people of God, that God will act for the benefit of all people.

This division and inner conflict is a reality of today’s world and our lives. A marriage divided is a divorce. A nation divided results in vitriolic politics and in the extreme, civil war. An economy divided yields poverty and injustice. A community divided becomes individualism and tribalism, prejudice and violence. Humanity divided is all these things on a global level. Faith divided is sin.

We all know what it is like to live divided lives. You know those times when your outsides and your insides don’t match up? That’s what it means to be a house divided. You’re one person at work another at home. You act one way with certain people and a different way with other people. Life gets divided into pieces. 

Behaviour, beliefs, and ethics become situational. There is the work life, the family life, the prayer life, the personal life, the social life. Pretty soon we’re left with a bunch of pieces.

It seems that we are forever trying to put the pieces of our lives together. That’s why the crowd has gathered around Jesus. That’s why the religious authorities oppose him. That’s why his family tries to restrain him. In their own way each is trying to put the pieces of their life together but it’s not working. They won’t fit. They have been found out. Their life and their world are neither what they thought they were nor what Jesus knows they could be. One reality has fallen, and a new one is ready to rise.

Jesus always stands before us as the image of unity, wholeness and integration. He is the stronger one. He does for us what we cannot do for ourselves. 

He puts our lives and houses back in order. 

Jesus offers a different image of what life might look like. 

He does so by revealing the division in our lives, the houses that cannot stand, and the crumbling of our kingdoms.

Even when it is for our own good, with the offer of new life, intended for wholeness, that’s a hard place to be. It means that one way or another change of some sort is coming. Most of us don’t like that. It can be frightening.

“He has gone out of his mind,” the people say. The religious authorities accuse him of allegiance to Beelzebul, the ruler of demons. They project onto Jesus their own interior conflict and division. 

They have declared that which is holy, sacred, and beautiful to be unclean, dirty, and bereft of God. Their accusations say more about themselves than Jesus. 

Their accusations reveal the depth of the conflict and division within them. Their accusations are a way of avoiding themselves.

It’s hard to look at the division and inner conflict within our lives. The beginning of wholeness, however, is acknowledging our brokenness. Where is our own house divided? How and to what extent have we created conflict and division within our relationships. In what ways do we live fragmented lives, parcelling out pieces here and there? What is it that shatters your life? Anger and resentment, greed, insecurity, perfectionism, sorrow and loss. Fear. Envy. Guilt. Loneliness.

There are all sorts of forces, things, events, sometimes even people by which our lives are broken and through which we are separated from God, others, and our self. 

Christ is stronger than anything that fragments our lives. He binds the forces that divide, heals the wounds that separate, and refashions pieces into a new whole. There is nothing about your life or my life that cannot be put back together by the love God in Christ.

I am reminded of the Japanese pottery, it's called Kintsugi, literally golden (“kin”) and repair (“tsugi”). Kintsugi is the process of repairing ceramics traditionally with lacquer and gold, leaving a gold seam where the cracks were. The technique consists in joining fragments and giving them a new, more refined aspect.

This is a beautiful picture of the life that Jesus offers us, he offers us liquid gold in the form of forgiveness, wholeness and acceptance and he binds us up and gifts us the possibility of a life beyond our wildest dreams; a life of fulfilment, purpose and peace. A life where we are never alone, never forsaken – a life of hope. All we have to do is accept this gift, this offer of unconditional love into our hearts and we will receive.

Rev'd Kia

Sunday 2 June, The First after Trinity
Texts: Deuteronomy 5:12-15, Mark 2: 23-36

What are your memories of Sundays as a child? Whatever they are I am quite certain they were very different from the sort of Sunday to which today’s children have become accustomed, My most vivid memories were of Sunday lunches always with a roast, be it beef with Yorkshire puddings, lamb with mince sauce and red currant jelly, mutton with onion sauce or pork with wonderful crackling, though not interestingly chicken. Lunches which always included a shot-by-shot account of my Father’s round of golf that morning which, as children, we patiently endured. And then there was church in the evening with its very wheezy organ. And I remember in particular summer evensongs with the light pouring into the church and then how we would always scoot out before the sermon started and often my Mother would then take us through the fields to listen to, or should that be experience, the delights offered by Parson Greensleeves. 

And all this would, I am sure, be almost alien to modern children who will often have spent Sundays pursuing some sport or other and a roast dinner with all the family present sitting around a table and no smart phones a  complete novelty. Although here I am always so delighted that my daughter has always kept the Sunday roast tradition but, sadly, not the church going, although there might just very occasionally be a visit to Parson Greenfields, although I suspect my grandchildren would be quite baffled by such terminology.

So yes, over the years Sunday habits have altered dramatically and maybe some of us of more mature years secretly long to have a quieter less, hectic Sabbath restored and one in which at the very least the churches of a retail persuasion remain firmly shut. But the truth is that this is most unlikely to happen and in light of the gospel reading we must be cautious about judging other people and what they choose to do or not do with their lives.

So I think this morning what we need to consider is just what does the Sabbath or, if you prefer a Sunday, mean for us? Is it simply a question of turning up to church for whichever type of service appeals to you most and then returning home thinking your duty has been done and you can simply spend the rest of the day how you choose? Some might even choose to shop, even if it’s just to a Garden Centre with all its lovely temptations. But, again, it is not for us to judge, remembering that Jesus and his disciples were judged as breaking the Sabbath for using it to enjoy the beauties of nature as they strolled across the fields and, horror of horror, plucking at grain stalks to munch upon.

But back to what we ourselves do on a Sabbath and I doubt if any of us these days sit with just a Bible for reading material and learn by heart the collect for the week which, if I am honest, strikes me as a very arid way of spending hour upon hour once church going is over. But how can we make those hours productive? Here I turn to the words of Hebrews: ‘A sabbath rest still remains for the people of God; for those who enter God’s rest also cease from their labours as God did from his. Let us therefore make every effort to enter that rest.’ (Hebrews 4: 9-11a)

I think this passage reminds us very strongly that we do, all of us, need to incorporate proper rest into our lives and here I admit that this is something I, personally, am not that good at doing as caring friends keep reminding me.  If God needed that rest on the seventh day, then there is no question we do too. We need time to remember and observe the words of William Davies: What is this life if full of care we have no time to stand and stare’.  I think this is some of the wisest advice we can be given in life to take time to literally stop and just drink in the beauty that never fails to be around us if we choose to look with the eyes of God the Creator. Of course, it’s easier out in the open countryside with which we are so blessed living where we do but, even in a crowded city. if we choose. there is beauty to be found. It may be daisies growing in the crack of a pavement, light rays reflecting off a window or quite simply the clouds busily decorating the sky above. Or it may be some architectural feature which some craftsman has created. One of my pleasures is having coffee with a friend in a certain well know super store and while enjoying both the coffee and the company looking out at the delightful and intricate patchwork of roofs laid out in front of the window. 

I think that on each Sabbath, each Sunday. we are called to spend time stopping and staring and, in that stopping and staring, discover both wonder and refreshment at all the blessings with which God has gifted us in this amazing world he has  created. That surely was what God himself did on that seventh day. And, again, I turn to words of Thomas Traherne: ‘You will feed with pleasure upon everything that is His. So that the world shall be a grand Jewel of Delight unto you; a very Paradise and the Gate of Heaven. It is indeed the beautiful frontispiece of Eternity; the Temple of God, and Palace of his children.’  If we can learn to really stop and stare, can we learn that indeed we are in the Temple of God as much outside a church as inside and in that realisation give further heartfelt praise and worship?  I know from the times I have managed to do this I recognise the joy it brings and the much-needed refreshment so that I am empowered in the week to come to be more aware of the grace of God acting both within and without me. Stopping to really look at the intricacies of a flower, the sun’s rays highlighting the leaves of a tree, or the blackbird perched high on a roof-top carolling his own hymn of delight and praise to the creator God.  A hymn in which we can all participate if we only allow ourselves that precious, life restoring time each Sabbath and, for that matter, on any other day too, to stop and stare and thus find God with us.  I think Isaiah understood this need we all have deep within ourselves when he wrote: ’In calm detachment lies your safety; your strength in quiet trust.’ (Isaiah 30:15)

I pray that all of us may find the incomparable blessing which is a Sabbath rest spent in a time of real consciousness of God being in all that we see and all that we do in love in his name.

What is this life if full of care we have no time to stand and stare.  
No time to stand beneath the boughs and stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass, where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see in broad daylight, streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance, and watch her feet how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this is full of care, we have no time to stop and stare.

 Virginia Smith                   

Sunday 26 May, Trinity Sunday
My only thought would be that you firm up in a few places about how this Creator / Lover / Inspirer applied both in New Testament times and now. In other words, I think you could helpfully spell it out a bit more. i.e. God who created the world from nothing and continues to show his creative power on a daily basis, Jesus whose accepting love extended to everyone he met, regardless of what they had done or who they were, and the Holy Spirit who changed 11 frightened and defeated  men into a dedicated and unstoppable force that would change the course of history.  I'd do the same with the wonderful Divan orchestra, spelling out the Creative force, the Love and the Inspiration. I say all that because people can be very vague as to what the Holy Spirit does now and, in particular, creativity and inspiration can often look like the same thing. So, it would be good to clarify the roles a bit more. 

Other than that, super stuff. On the Holy Spirit, I remember the Bishop of Willesden preaching at our church on Pentecost, urging people to put their hands up if "You've ever felt prompted to write that letter......." "You've ever thought so and so might appreciate a visit" etc., and many people put their hands up in response to these various prompts, whereupon he said quite loudly and enthusiastically "You lot know more about the Holy Spirit than you think you do !". This seemed a simple way of making the Spirit's inspiration more tangible. Not suggesting you do the same, but it highlighted that the role of the Holy Spirit needs to be put down to earth terms sometimes. 

Trinity Sunday, when preachers can so easily tie themselves in knots trying to explain in lucid terms the theology of the Trinity and most probably using shamrocks or triangles to provide some sort of visual image of what it could all mean. Well you will be pleased to know I am not going to go all theological on you as I reckon it’s best left to far more academic minds than mine and if you care to have an image of a shamrock or an equilateral triangle or indeed what is called a triquetra with three interlocking curly triangles in mind as your aid to understanding a God who is one in three and three in one that’s fine. Or, if you would like a couple of other examples you could imagine an egg which in its entirety consists of a shell, a yolk and the white or, even more simple, think of   water which can exist in a solid, liquid and gaseous state. All these can help but if we are honest with ourselves an understanding of just what truly defines God is knowledge completely beyond our extremely limited human comprehension.

But what I think is relevant for this morning is our appreciation of just how this triune God manifests himself, itself in our midst. Our Romans reading points to St Paul’s understanding of how this happens when he writes of the Spirit of God leading us to understand that we are children of God, the God we are encouraged to call Abba or Father just as Jesus did. Paul, it strikes me, has a very clear understanding that this triune God is, if you like, a partnership where each part acts on behalf of the other in order to make manifest to us a real sense of the divine in our midst however limited that sense may be. Nick Fawcett in a poem suggests that what we all need to understand the Trinity better is 3D glasses which open up new dimensions and perspectives of God.

So, speaking with my personal 3D glasses firmly on my nose what seems to me the best way of understanding our three-in-one God is as Creator, Lover and Inspirer. God, the Father, who created the world from nothing and continues to show that awe inspiring creative power on a daily basis. Jesus, the Son whose accepting love extended to everyone he met regardless of what they had done or who they were and then in that same incomparable love gave his own life for us. And the Holy Spirit who as we know from reading Acts changed a mere eleven frightened and defeated men into an unstoppable force that would change the course of history. The Holy Spirit who continues ceaselessly to act in us if only by that gentle prompting to go and visit someone or simply give them a call and thus help them to know they are cared for and loved. And it is these three qualities that I feel we are all called to imitate as best as we possibly can in our lives.

And here I would like to give an example of just what that imitation can achieve. Twenty-five years ago Daniel Barenboim, a Jew, and Edward Said, a Palestinian, were inspired to create the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra to bring together in their love of music young people from the Arab-Israeli divide. Young people who in their longing to create both beautiful music and love for one another in place of hatred responded to the call to create and promote such an orchestra. Clemency Burton-Hill  was a guest violinist for the tenth anniversary tour  and wrote that the tour changed her life  when she found heroes, inspiration and friends as she came to know something of the lives of the one hundred talented young people determined to ensure Barenboim’s and Said’s vision continued to be realised.  Young people like the Palestinian violinist raised in a refugee camp and the Israeli bassoonist whose tone had her crying on stage mush to her embarrassment. Barenboim himself when questioned how he could remain so positive when Arab-Israeli relations seemed always on a downward spiral replied: ‘In these times, we cannot afford the luxury of pessimism.’  And it is that optimism that has continued within that unique orchestra to reveal the creative power of gifted musicians. Optimism that the world can be a better place by displaying their genuine love, not just of music making but of each other; a love that unites them in their desire to create a greater harmony in the world. Optimism that is always based on inspiration which continues to reveal to a sad and troubled world the unparalleled beauty of combining creativity with love. 

Surely this story speaks with such force of those three qualities which I believe are intrinsic to the Trinitarian God. Qualities we too are urgently called to display in our own lives, especially in the face of so much world news that all too often seems to be so lacking in hope. We are called to be optimists, using our creative gifts in God’s service, loving as Jesus Christ has commanded us to do and always seeking inspiration from the Holy Spirit for ways to display that creativity, that love. Last week at the Coldharbour fete we had a perfect example of what I mean when we saw just how creativity, love and inspiration came together to ensure it truly was a fete which demonstrated without a doubt all that is best in this community.

And this coming together, this unifying of those three qualities, are what we are called to demonstrate  in our churches and in our parishes to dispel the pessimism which can all too easily overtake us in these troublesome times.  Barenboim, Said and all those young people who have played for the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra have never given up as any of you who have the privilege of hearing them at this year’s Proms will realise. Our last hymn today speaks within each verse of those three qualities of creating, loving and inspiring and thus bringing the light that is God into the world’s darkest places. So too may we determine to use the same qualities which I believe without a doubt that we all possess to continue in the face of the world’s darkness to bring the  light  that ensures we play out our lives in harmony  together with each one of us adding in our own way our individual but absolutely necessary  part to a symphony of joy  and  make this church, this community places of unity, peace and blessing.

The 3-D Glasses by Nick Fawcett
They made such a difference,
giving me a sense of being there,
involved in the action-
for they opened up new dimensions,
giving a fresh perspective on all,
what I’d known before in theory
suddenly experienced in practice.

Help me to see you like that, Lord:
in all your glory
rather than a single dimension
I all too easily reduce you to.

Help me to glimpse you as Father -
providing,
guiding,
caring for me each day;
to see you as Son -
sharing my humanity
and walking this earth;
to experience you as Spirit-
alive within,
prompting, comforting,
teaching and equipping.

Give me a fuller picture of who and what you are,
and an awareness that no dimension or measure
can finally contain the wonder of it all. 

Virginia Smith

Sunday 18 May, Pentecost

Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here.

9.00am Communion

Acts 2:1-21

Texts: John 15: 26-27 & 16: 4-15
The Holy Spirit has been in danger in recent years of becoming the soppy one of the Trinity.
Think about it for a bit – the Holy Spirit doesn’t go off and do uncomfortable and challenging things like getting crucified.
The Holy Spirit gives spectacular gifts that add a distinct touch of excitement to what could otherwise become rather dreary religious lives.
The Holy Spirit can be described as the ‘comforter’, which sounds just lovely.
The Holy Spirit is very politically correct and not all all gender-specific.
The Holy Spirit likes to leave things to the last minute, like some of us, and works best if you stand up unprepared and allow the Spirit to take over.
He/she really hates to be called upon by untrusting people who fussily want to prepare several days in advance. All in all, the Holy Spirit is the acceptable face of the Trinity.
Unfortunately, this picture of the Holy Spirit bears no resemblance at all to the Holy Spirit as depicted in the New Testament.
Today’s reading in Acts does sound, initially, rather exciting. We might feel, a tad wistfully, that if we had had tongues of fire resting on our heads then we might be able to match the sudden boldness of the disciples as they stand up and witness to Jesus.
But when Peter begins to talk, fuelled by the power of the Holy Spirit, what he is led to talk about is judgement.
The coming of the Holy Spirit emphasises the finality and totality of what God has done in Jesus Christ. The way in which people react to Jesus seals their fate just as surely as if the world had indeed come to an end with ‘portants in the heavens above and signs on the earth below’ as we read in verse 19.
And if Peter’s words today ring with excitement and conviction, he is to spend the rest of his days witnessing to this truth he once denied, and he is to pay for it with his life.
The Gospel reading also talks about the Holy Spirit in terms of judgement. With exactly the same theological force as in Acts, John says that work of the Holy Spirit is to point out the consequences of how we respond to Jesus. The Holy Spirit comes to prove conclusively that the world has got most of its judgements skewed.
The world judged Jesus to be mad and dangerous, and it condemned him to death, thereby proving that it didn’t know right from wrong.
The Holy Spirit comes to reverse that judgement, and to turn the tables. Those that convicted Jesus of sin are now shown to be the deluded sinners. The holy Spirit comes to prove that Jesus is the one who knows the truth, and that is because Jesus’ judgements are the same as God’s. The Spirit of truth comes to bear witness to the unity of Father and Son and to empower us to do the same.
The Holy Spirit knows how to interpret the anguish of the world.
The Holy Spirit has seen the image of Jesus forming more and more clearly in so many people that, in the midst of our cries we can hear the words, ‘it’s all right. This is how it is supposed to be. Nothing has gone wrong. Keep hoping, keep working. The end is in sight’.
Hope is one of the hallmarks of the Holy Spirit, according to Romans 8, and this is no mindless self-deceiving hope but the truthful hope of one who knows the will of God.
Our readings this morning suggest that the work of the Holy Spirit is to bear witness to that same truth. Sometimes that will be accompanied by gratifying gifts of power and sometimes it will involve a complete surrender of human power, to the point of death.
But wherever the Holy Spirit witnesses, there is judgement. ‘Do you choose for or against God?’ the Holy Spirit asks, echoing the life and work of Jesus.

Let us pray,
Holy Spirit, we come to you in humility and weakness. We recognise the truth of your power and conviction and ask that you would fill us afresh with hope and boldness so that we may walk in the way and light of Christ.
Amen.

Rev'd Kia

6.00pm Evensong

Today, of course, we celebrate Whit Sunday or as it is now more commonly called Pentecost, but I am sorry that this morning there is most unlikely to be tongues of fire or the rush of a violent wind and definitely not speaking in tongues. Nor will there be any Whit Fairs although that said we did have the wonderful Coldharbour Fair yesterday and I will not be leading you in a Whit Walk around the parish with the Coldharbour Band once again giving an impressive performance returning to consume cherry buns and milk! We will not be appointing a Lord and Lady of the Whit Ale, nor will the local children be dressed in brand new clothes and showing them off to their more affluent relations hoping for a healthy donation towards the cost. Such were some of the customs certainly up until the first half of the last century and particularly up north where these Whit walks were very much an annual event. 

So, although Whit Sunday, Pentecost is one of the major feast days of the Christian year it has become decidedly low key and secularised with the centuries old Whit Monday Bank Holiday being replaced by the prosaic May Bank Holiday Monday. And, for the vast majority of people in this country, it is sad to have to recognise that they have no idea what Whit Sunday. Pentecost, is all about and may well not even recognise either name.  And just for your education in case you didn’t already know the name Whit Sunday is based on two words ‘white’ to indicate holiness and cleanliness and ‘wit’ to indicate understanding.  

So, what does all this mean for us today? Is this an important festival for us or, in truth, is it very much another Sunday albeit we have glorious red hangings, and I can flaunt my red stole? Just how aware are we of the power of the Holy Spirit in our lives? Has it ever prompted us to speak in tongues or does the very idea fill you with a certain horror? And here I admit I have only once heard anyone speak in tongues and it was, I must confess, a very strange almost surreal experience. The sounds made absolutely no sense to me, but it was quite obvious that something extraordinary was happening to the person speaking and I have come to realise that it must be a most wonderfully uplifting experience to be so filled with the Holy Spirit of God in that particular way. 

But, that said, I think each of us, in our own way, can be, at times, filled with the power of the Holy Spirit or find ourselves inspired in some way by that same Spirit. Nearly always I begin a sermon with short prayer asking that the Holy Spirit might be heard in my words and that thus you, the hearers might each, in your own way, find some form of inspiration in them reflecting Jesus’ words to his disciples that: ’When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth.’ No preacher, however lauded, could ever boast that every single one of their sermons was amazing and full of revelation and some could justly be called mundane or even, I fear, down right boring but, and this is the big ‘but’, the Holy Spirit can still work with the mundane, the rather ordinary and yes, even the boring, and transform it into something that truly does reflect the grace of God working in our lives and showing us new ways to live out our faith. I think what we are all seeking is expressed beautifully in the collect for the next six days: ‘O Lord, from whom all good things come; grant to us thy humble servants, that by your holy inspiration we may think those things that are good, and by your merciful guiding may perform the same.’ 

And, of course, we are called to seek that inspiration not just in the sermon but in all our worship and I am sure, like me, often the music can play a significant and uplifting part in discovering that inspiration which is the manifestation surely of the Holy Spirit. Who can sing the words ‘Come down, O Love divine, seek thou this soul of mine, and visit it with thine own ardour glowing; O Comforter draw near, withing my heart appear, and kindle it thy holy flame bestowing’ and not have an inner sense of that indwelling of that Spirit. The Holy Spirit which has been described as ‘the go-between’ God who is ‘the agent at work in our encounters with the divine presence in our daily life.’ In other words, it is the Holy Spirit who kindles the flame of love and longing for God and thus allows us to recognise the truth of where God is in our lives, not just in our worship but in all that we do and where it is he wants to lead us as we continue our earthly journey in his service. It is surely without doubt that it was the Holy Spirit which kindled the hearts of all those disciples on that very first Pentecost, enabling them to reveal both the truth of Jesus the Son and the love of God the Father in sending His Son to us his children. The Holy Spirit that enabled them not just to speak in tongues and in goodness knows how many languages but to commit the rest of their lives to speaking that truth no matter what it might demand of them, what it might cost them.

We may not have tongues of fire; we may not have rushing winds but  through God’s grace can we now, at this moment in time,  like those disciples recognise the Holy Spirit in our midst. The Holy Spirit, the ‘go-between God’ whose purpose is above all to make us aware that God is always calling us, that God always wants us and most significantly that each of us is precious in his sight. 

The ‘go-between God’ who perhaps above all can fill us with a sense of at times sublime joy as that flame of love is brightly kindled  and we know without a shadow of doubt that we are held within God’s presence, God’s love. And in that knowledge know too that we are called as those first disciples were to continue in the power of the Spirit  our God given mission to reveal the truth of his love.

Jeu d’esprit by Ann Lewin
Flame-dancing Spirit, come, sweep us off our feet and dance us through our days. Surprise us with your rhythms, dare us to try new steps, explore new patterns and new partnerships. Release us from old routines, to swing in abandoned joy and fearful adventure. And in the intervals, rest us, in your still centre,

Virginia Smith

Sunday 12 May, Seventh after Easter
Acts 1:15-17, 21 - end

The Sunday after Ascension Day.  The Sunday before Pentecost.  Behind us is the life of Jesus, his death, his mighty resurrection and glorious ascension.  In front of us is the unknown, the very new thing that God will do among his people.
Our reading in Acts is in this in between time, between the Ascension and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.
How do the disciples feel in this sort of no-man’s land in time?
They don’t know how long they’re going to be there.  All they know is that in his physical form Jesus seems to have finally left them – taken up in the brilliance of the light of heaven – and that he has told them to wait in Jerusalem where God will come to them in a new way.  I wonder how they’re feeling
Just think:  three or four years ago they were living perfectly ordinary lives, like we do, with families, friends, village or neighbourhood communities and day to day routines that they followed almost without thinking just as we do.
Then this man, Jesus, told them to follow him and they did – they just did.  They followed and saw and heard and experienced things they sometimes can still hardly believe.
And they loved him, they still do.  All of them at some point or another all said they’d be willing to die for him yet all of them failed him, some more spectacularly than others.
They lived through the tension, the mounting danger and the terrible execution that ended the life of their Lord in Jerusalem.  They’ve lived with that terrible sense of loss and grief when life had no meaning or purpose, and their hearts were heavy, dreading the bleak future ahead of them.
Then the light of resurrection exploded around them.  Jesus was alive again, talking with them, eating with them, teaching them.  His appearances were unpredictable and sometimes very brief but after the initial shock none of them doubted the reality of his resurrection.
Now he’s left them again and they’re living with a renewed sense of loss.  Not as sharp and bitter as the first but hard to bear all the same.
They don’t know what’s about to happen. They don’t know about the great WWHHOOOOSSHH  of mighty wind which will knock them off their feet. They don’t know about the orange and red crackling flames of fire that will fill them with courage and conviction.
They don’t know about the Holy Spirit who is going to breathe new life into them, transforming them into the fullest being of themselves, alive with God’s life and filled with his awesome, mighty Spirit.
For now they are in a “no-man’s land” of time.
We’ve probably all experienced similar times – times that can be filled with uncertainty and anxiety.
Times when we’ve lost someone or left something behind but aren’t yet ready or able to move on into the unknown.
Times between school or college and the world of work and careers.
Times of waiting … for a birth, ….  or a death or a medical diagnosis; life-changing times and unplanned breaks in our way of life.
Perhaps we’re in one of those times now and don’t know where God is going to lead us next.
There is a book entitled “The Burning Word” by Judith Kunst.  In it she describes the time in her life when she and her husband leave the church community they belong to in New York and move south to Georgia because her husband has a new job.  This is part of her story: “When he announced that he’d figured out his office email address, fears about my own new job as full-time mother and homemaker suddenly loomed.  ‘What will my address be?’ I asked, and with a chuckle he said, ‘Judithkunst@nowheresville.com’ ‘Nowheresville’.  It was meant as a joke, but the word ignited all my fears.  I’d been a teacher, the centre of daily attention in a classroom.  I’d been a published poet and the editor of a scholarly journal.  Now I’d be a mom in a town where nobody knew me.  Now I’d be a housecleaner and cook.  In one stroke the cozey life I’d pictured snuggling with my son morphed into a threatening stretch of nothingness populated only by shopping centres and lonely housewives. In many ways, ‘nowheresville’ turned out to be an accurate address, and the fears it triggered in me were not unwarranted – this new life would be harder than any I’d lived before.  Yet eventually I would come to see that ‘nowheresville’ marked the precise intersection between my loss and as yet unrealized gain, a word that was at once nowhere and now here.”
For me it said that we can never be “nowhere”, we are always in “now” and “here”, – the here and now – a positive place where God can work with us to create new realities and where we can begin travelling on the new paths he is showing us.
If we have any sense of being in one of those in-between places today perhaps we could spend this week reflecting on that, thinking about what is “now” and “here” for us; considering what we might be needing to put to rest, what thoughts and attitudes we might be needing to give up within ourselves.
Because experience tells me that very often we cannot move forward until we have put down the past or made a decision that we want or need to move on.  Just as the wind and fire of Pentecost descended only when the disciples knew that Jesus’ time on earth really was over, so God can only lead us forward when we’ve stopped trying to hang on in an unhealthy way to the past.
I believe that if we give ourselves fully to “now” and “here”, whatever that means for us, on the day of Pentecost, whenever that day is for us, we’ll be ready to go forward again, ready to say yes to God’s plan for us.
And we don’t need to be afraid of saying yes to God. God cares for us and protects us.  He will not ask us to do anything he knows we are not yet ready and able to do with his help and guidance.
And God knows about our need for time:  time to grieve; time to summon up courage; time to make big decisions.  And he will allow us that time.
But sometimes he knows we need a bit of a push or a bit of a wake up call to nudge us into action and he’ll do that for us in ways we might least expect!
He may speak in the whoosh of a mighty wind, in the roar of tongues of flame or in the still small voice in the depths of our being.  But he will speak, and when he does it will always be for the fulfilment of his loving purpose for each one of us and it will always lead us deeper into his eternal life.
Amen.
Rev'd Kia

Sunday 5 May, Sixth after Easter
Texts:  Acts 10: 44-end, John 15: 9-17

This is my command Love one another.

Tertullian ‘See how these Christians love one another.

I would like to begin this sermon with part of a love poem entitled Atlas written by U.A. Fanthorpe.
There is a kind of love called maintenance, which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it.
Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget the milkman; which remembers when to plant bulbs.
Which answers letters; which knows the way the money goes; which deals with dentists.
And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains, and postcards to the lonely; which upholds the permanently rickety elaborate structures of living; which is Atlas.

The idea of love as ‘maintenance’ is a long cry from the idea of love as some wonderfully romantic walking on air kind of love. A long cry even from all those Valentine cards with their hearts and red roses and protestations that you are the ‘love of my life’. This sort of love is eminently practical and surely is the sort of love that Jesus demonstrated again and again in his ministry. The sort of practical love that turned water to wine when the wedding party threatened to become a disaster. When the crowds who were weak with hunger were fed. And, of course, when so many were healed through that love.

In none of the gospel accounts are we told of Jesus rushing up to people, flinging his arms around them in a huge embracing hug and passionately  declaring  ‘I love you’. To me the only time he really opened wide his arms to embrace people was on the cross when he proved God’s infinite and unchangeable love for us his children.

So, when we read that command in today’s gospel reading ‘to love one another as I have loved you’ I think, although we may well do a fair amount of hugging and even kissing, what we are really called to show is maintenance or practical love towards one another. The sort of love which I receive from my lovely neighbour who, on more than one occasion, has cleaned my car after he has cleaned his and mowed my lawn after mowing his. Totally practical but oh so welcomed and to me a true manifestation of love for one another.  The sort of practical love which means I find a box of home-produced eggs in the vestry whenever I come to Christ Church which ensures a delicious but easily prepared supper after a busy Sunday or a hospital day. The sort of practical love I witnessed in a check out queue  in Lidl when a man stepped forward with his debit card and paid for all the shopping of the Ukrainian mother with whom he had been chatting The sort of practical caring love shown among those first disciples after the death of Jesus when they ‘had all things in common’ and would ‘sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all , as any had need.’ (Acts 2: 44-45)

Sadly, to my way of thinking, we live in a world which seems increasingly self-absorbed, increasingly self-loving and self-protective, where people think it’s their right to have the best for themselves and never mind what the neighbour needs, always assuming they even know who their neighbour is. We also, even more sadly, live in a world which manifests so much bitter and frequently unreasoned hatred resulting in all these student demonstrations that are sweeping campuses both here and even more so in the United Sates and, of course, all the hate fuelled wars which despoil God’s world. It is this hatred, and this self- serving love which we, who call ourselves Christians, are called to combat with deeds of love however small. Deeds of love which are given freely and always in response to the knowledge that God loves us more than we can ever imagine.  Deeds of love which imitate the way Jesus looked at people and had compassionate love for them.

David Adam describes such love like this: ‘True love moves us out of our self-centredness and opens up for us a whole new way of living and looking at the world. Such love is only possible when we reach out to one another with our whole being. It is this sort of love, the outpouring of self, through which God created the world; you were for love and out of love. The very source of your being is love. In our most fragile moments we know that we are of dust and to dust we shall return but in the depth of our being we know there is more. We are not created out of nothing but out of love, so we will not return to nothing: our journey ends in “lovers meeting”’. These words, to me, are a summary of what to me is our Christian faith that  each and every one of us is beloved by God and no matter what  we will always be held within that love  and blessed by  that love and, for our time here on earth, we are surely called to  do our utmost  to reflect that love.

And here is a question for all of us to ponder, just how good are we at showing our love to God and thereby maintaining that amazing relationship between Him and us? A relationship based on our implicit trust, our implicit faith that God’s love is and always will be there for us. And, of course, in part we will show it by reflecting that love to others but also, I think, we are called to simply spend time allowing ourselves to be held quietly, peacefully within his presence just as any loving couple might do. Held securely and warmly within that love and know something of the peace that passes all understanding.

If we have been fortunate, we will have experienced that amazing romantic walking on air form of love but we will also know that it is as described by one write a ‘temporary madness’ to be replaced by that practical maintenance sort of love which brings such security and trust to any relationship.  And here I would like to quote the dream of a couple whose wedding I am blessing on Saturday, and it is so simple and so beautiful namely ‘to grow old together and eat cake'. Nothing grand, nothing wildly extravagant, but just having that love which matures over time as they grow old together and enjoy cake together. And, surely, that is exactly the sort of love we are all called upon to demonstrate with everyone who is dear to us.  The sort of love we are called to emulate here in our churches as we grow old together and eat maybe not cake but surely biscuits together. The sort of love we are called to have with God himself as we grow old and discover more and more joy in just having Him there beside us and within us. And as a final quote this time from a delightful children’s book: ‘love is in the little things, a kiss, a smile, a cup of tea, just you and me sitting quietly'. What better way to maintain our love with each other and most importantly of all with God.

Virginia Smith

Sunday 28 April, Fifth after Easter
Texts: Acts 8:26-end, John 15: 1-8

I am the vine, you are the branches.

I wonder if any of you have taken the animal personality test which apparently matches your characteristics to a given animal so, if you are a lion, you will be assertive, goal-orientated and a natural leader. Whereas if you are a golden retriever, you will so it says be calm, steady and relational.

Whoever we are we will be labelled in some way or another. although not necessarily as an animal. People will talk about us as being, clever or stupid, bossy or pliant, good fun or a bit of misery and so on and so on.  And here I wonder how your own labelling of yourself would compare with that given by others. Would they or wouldn’t they match?

Jesus was great one for giving himself labels and in so doing helped paint such a vivid, understandable picture of the ways of God in relationship with his children. Last Sunday we had Jesus describing himself as the Good Shepherd and today in our gospel reading we have him portraying himself as the true vine. Surely, not a label we would ever give ourselves but one that we can relate to being at least vaguely familiar with the practice of viniculture and I am certain looked at and even closely inspected the acres of vines planted across the fields and hillside at Denbies which is almost on our doorstep.

Today we are called upon to recognise ourselves as part of that true vine, again a label I doubt we would ever express but nonetheless one we can relate to in the same way that we can relate to being part of the body of Christ. But to be fruitful on that vine Jesus reminds us that we do need to be pruned and cut back. Pruning is essential if an abundant crop of grapes is to be achieved.  Pruning removes all dead diseased and damaged growth. Pruning helps reshape the vine.  Pruning removes tangled stems promoting healthier growth. All of you who are gardeners will know only too well the benefits of judicious pruning hence ensuring abundant and fruitful new growth and so too it can be with us. 

Can we see this sort of pruning in our lives, starting with the dead, diseased and damaged growth? We will all have experienced times in our lives where we have encountered difficult and challenging times which can so easily leave us badly scarred and struggling to move forward and rebuild our lives in a fruitful way. And it is only when we allow ourselves to be ‘pruned’ by God, the vine grower, and allow him to cut away all those feelings of hurt, betrayal, bitterness, loss, anger, revenge and despair that we can begin to flourish once more. Holding onto such feelings does us no good in the long run and we will only produce inferior fruit if any at all.  We have to allow that pruning; that letting go of all those hurtful feelings and memories which can all too easily keep us trapped in the past and which can, if untended, act almost like a poison and leave us even more diseased, damaged and indeed in some respects dead.

Here the Bishop of Chelmsford has some very wise words on this subject: of experiencing different forms of pruning in our lives. ‘What is the worst thing that has happened in your life? The loss of a loved one, a painful divorce, the diagnosis of a long-term illness, a job opportunity gone, a relationship broken. An irrevocable mistake…? The extraordinary thing is that so often, in unexpected ways and over time, even the most painful experiences can lead to new life. Profound grief can enable the fresh discovery of the love of friends and family, illness can give new vitality to the ordinary moments in life, the closing of one door can pave the way for new opportunities, a relationship damaged can provide insights into hidden aspects of your personality or the discovery of skills you never knew you had, vulnerability can lead to deep and meaningful connections.’  

The bishop refers to all these as resurrections of a sort or, in other words, wonderful new growth, new fruiting growing out of all that pruning, all those seemingly damaging and painful cuts.  And it is after that pruning, that cutting when we are very tender and vulnerable that we, if we are wise, seek to renew ourselves from all the goodness and rich nourishment of the central rootstock, the vine that will  then pour renewed healthy growth into us  so that we can again bear valuable fruit.

My own experience both of painful divorce and of the death of a dearly, dearly loved second husband has taught me how that seeking for the revitalising goodness of the rootstock enabled me to reshape my life each time and I hope in so doing bear new fruit. I certainly would not be here today as an ordained priest if these tragedies had not severely pruned me to allow me to begin to remake new growth through God’s grace and in the power of the Holy Spirit.

As another example, I read this beautiful story of a very successful man struck down by cancer and in that pruning found the need to reassess his life. That reassessment led him to realise that in all the long years of his marriage he had taken his wife very much for granted and had never in a very long while told her he loved her. With that epiphany he began to rectify the situation and in so doing found his marriage taking on a whole new dimension, a new and wonderful flourishing as truly together he and his wife faced up to his illness and bore fruit together.

And I hope we can all agree that paradoxically the suffering of being pruned can, by the life giving power of the rootstock, turn us into far more empathetic, kinder and compassionate people bearing not the open and much scratched scars of hurt and disillusionment but the fruits of the spirit of which surely the greatest is love for God’s fellow children, especially when they, too, face times of pruning. I began this sermon by asking how we might be labelled and here I think one of the chief purposes of God’s pruning is to help us grow truer to our own unique God given label which can then be recognised by others. Pruning helps us show the very best of the qualities listed on that label; the label by which I think all of us, be we also labelled as a lion or golden retriever , perhaps unconsciously aspire to have namely that of a  beloved  and very precious unique child of God, sharing all the vigour of his divine rootstock,  and thus bearing those unparalleled ripened  fruits  of faith, hope and love.

Virginia Smith

Sunday 21 April, Fourth Sunday after Easter
Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here.

9.00am Communion

Texts: Acts 4:5-12, John 10: 11-18

For all of us, I suspect the idea of God being a Good Shepherd is one we almost take for granted. We will all be familiar with Psalm 23 and it could well be our favourite psalm. It is certainly one I often recommend for funerals as it speaks with such clarity of the Good Shepherd guiding and caring for us all through the joys and the vicissitudes of life and most importantly of all that he will continue to guide us through death to the life that lies beyond.

Again, I feel certain that all of us here can relate to the idea of being shepherded and what is involved in such care. I, for one, have quite vivid memories of sheep being forced protesting loudly through a sheep dip; a practice no longer used. And on holidays in the Yorkshire Dales, I have seen sheep apparently wandering freely over the hillsides but not so freely that their shepherd does not know in exactly what location to find them and have his amazing sheep dogs to help round them up and move them to new grazing.

If you know your Bible well, you may perhaps have become aware that shepherds and sheep are in a way threaded through both Old and New Testaments, beginning with the story of Cain and Abel when Abel offered to God ‘the firstlings of his flock’ which God was pleased to accept, unlike his brother Cain’s offering. And here it has been suggested that this story points to a change from a largely nomadic society driving their flocks from pasture to pasture to a more settled society who started to till the earth and grow crops for food. Read on from this story and you will find that sheep and shepherds are a recurring them in the history of God’s people. 

And in Jesus Christ many saw in his presence the parallel with King David, always feted as Israel's greatest king, who as just a young boy helped look after his father’s flocks. The young boy who then went on to be a powerful king shepherding his people, God’s people. Jesus Christ, seen as the promised Messiah following in David’s footsteps, who is referred to as both the Good Shepherd and the ‘Lamb of God’. The ‘Lamb of God’ who was sacrificed for us, who laid down his life for us, The Good Shepherd who knows his ‘his own and his own know me’.  

David Adam expresses this relationship so beautifully in these words: ‘Wherever you go, whatever is done to you, God loves you and will never leave. You are under his care. No matter where you stray or where life takes you, he is always there. You cannot fall for a moment out of the everlasting arms. We do not know what lies ahead but we know who goes with us and is there to meet us. Our journey is from the temporal to the eternal; from that which is passing to that which is eternal.’

But what, if anything, does the knowledge of this divine relationship have for us today? And for me the answer has to be that we, too, are called upon to see ourselves as both being shepherded and acting as shepherds ourselves in imitation of Christ himself and, of course, of Peter who was specifically called upon by the risen Christ to feed God’s lambs, feed God’s sheep..

If we look at the concept of being shepherded first, I personally find in today’s troubled world that my need to trust implicitly in the presence of God, the presence of the Good Shepherd, becomes crucial. The idea that, come what may, I cannot fall for a moment out of those everlasting arms, We cannot begin to  know, or even surmise, what the future holds for us, but if we can trust as we wake each day that we wake within that protective and loving presence then we can surely say as Julian of Norwich did ‘And all shall be well; and all manner of things shall be well.’  And here the words of Ann Lewin are pertinent: ‘The courage that says, “All shall be well’” doesn’t mean feeling no fear, but facing it, trusting God will not let go.’ Having that sort of trust enables us, I believe, to live out our lives very simply day by day and making the very best we can of that day, recognising the many blessings it brings and, in that recognition, giving heartfelt thanks and praise to God.

Recognising too that each new day provides for us an opportunity to do some shepherding ourselves and help feed some of God’s other sheep and lambs.  And here is a question for all of us to consider. As shepherds, have we come so close to members of our own little flocks, our family, our dearest friends, our church family so that they can, with quiet confidence, affirm that no matter what may happen we will not leave them, not abandon them, that we are always there for them? Can they claim that they know without a shadow of doubt that we will be a very immediate presence when they are passing through some of the dark valleys of life and at other times be a quiet background presence when they are content in those lush green pastures of life? Or, if we are honest with ourselves, have we at times been fair weather shepherds and when family or friends are in those dark valleys felt we had more than enough on our own plates to take on their troubles as well? And here I know from my own experience that such feelings do all too easily arise and sometimes we do feel that we have no more strength to enable us to give to others and, yet, in that giving the fact is we may find that  by God’s grace we ourselves are shepherded if only by being helped to gain a new perspective on what we deem our own troubles. The old axiom ‘a trouble shared is a trouble halved’ does carry a real element of truth.  

I would like to end with these words of Malcolm Guite written in response to that threefold command to Peter to ‘feed my lambs feed my sheep, feed my sheep’. “I am assigned a task to share again the care that I’ve been given. To meet another’s needs before they ask and nudge your flock towards the gates of heaven.” I hope like me that you find the idea of our gentle care nudging someone nearer the gates of heaven a truly beautiful and inspiring one and recognise too how other shepherds filled with God’s grace and the power of the Holy Spirit   have done exactly the same for us.

A version of Psalm 23 from Psalms Redux by Carla Grosch-Miller
This I know: 
My life is in Your hands. 
I have nothing to fear.
I stop,
breathe,
listen.
Beneath the whirl of what is
is a deep down quiet place.
You beckon me to tarry there.
This is the place 
where unnamed hungers 
are fed, the place
of clear water,
refreshment.
My senses stilled, 
I drink deeply, 
at home
in timeless territory..
In peril, I remember:
Death’s dark vale holds no menace.
I lean into You;
Your eternal presence comforts me.
I am held tenderly.
In the midst of all that troubles,
that threatens and diminishes,
You set abundance before me.
You lift my head; my vision clears.
The blessing cup overflows.
This I know:
You are my home and my hope,
my strength and my solace, 
and so shall You ever be.

Virginia Smith

6.00pm Evensong
Texts: Acts 4:5-12, John 10:11-18

It’s Good Shepherd Sunday. Every year, the fourth Sunday of Eastertide gives us a reading from the 10th chapter of John’s gospel but this evening I’d like to focus on our reading from the book of Acts - I think you will find Jesus showing up here, too, not only as the Good Shepherd, but also as the Passover Lamb.

It’s the day after Peter and John healed a man who had been crippled since birth. This man, who had never walked a day in his life, has danced and leaped around Solomon’s Porch, praising God. People came running to see what was happening, and Peter – filled with the Holy Spirit – has preached his second sermon. 

The first was at Pentecost, where 3000 people believed and were baptized in the Name of Jesus. This time, even more are moved to repentance and they join the believers. This church is growing and it hasn’t even started calling itself a church yet! But it is making the priests and temple rulers nervous.

The temple officials send Peter and John to jail for the night. They think maybe a night on a cold stone floor will cool down these hotheads. It will also give them time to gather the high priest and other leaders to figure out what to do with these followers of Jesus who keep claiming … the impossible.

But the temple officials haven’t considered how the power of the Holy Spirit can change simple, uneducated fishermen into eloquent witnesses to the resurrection. They still haven’t figured out that this movement isn’t the result of any human effort or design. It’s the work of God, through his Son Jesus Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

The next day their rulers, elders, and scribes assembled in Jerusalem, with Annas the high priest, Caiaphas, John, and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family. When they had made the prisoners stand in their midst, they inquired, ‘By what power or by what name did you do this?’ Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, ‘Rulers of the people and elders, if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed, let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead.

This Jesus is “the stone that was rejected by you, the builders; it has become the cornerstone.” There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved.’ (Acts 4:5-12)

How does something so good cause so much trouble? You would think that bringing health to someone who has been sick his entire life would be cause for rejoicing. The crippled beggar certainly saw it that way. He immediately got up, took a few steps, and started leaping and praising God. He had made eye contact with Peter and John, hoping for a few coins. Instead, he had experienced a life-changing event.

He was whole and well for the first time in his life. He had a new identity, and a totally new perspective. He’d never seen the world from a standing position; his point of view had always been from down on the ground. Now he could walk and dance and leap for joy. Who else but God could have made this possible? Who else but this Jesus that Peter and John were talking about could heal him?

His joy was infectious, spreading to others nearby who had seen the miracle with their own eyes. And their joy and amazement quickly attracted more people … and more people … until there was a crowd running to find out what all the commotion was about. And this is where the trouble starts.

If the healed man had just minded his own business, instead of dancing and whooping all over the place, things would have been fine.

People may or may not have noticed that he wasn’t there the next day, where he’d always been, sitting by the Beautiful Gate asking for a handout.

People may or may not have seen him getting a job and working for a living instead of begging.

People may or may not have connected his new status to God’s work in his life.

But this man has been transformed, and not just his legs.

 He has been changed forever by the power of the Holy Spirit, in the name of Jesus Christ, and he simply won’t be quiet about it.

So a crowd gathers, and the temple rulers have good reason to be concerned. They “know that Romans do not ignore crowds of five thousand agitated Jews.” Peter and John have not only threatened the peace of Jerusalem with their healing and preaching, they have endangered “the Pax Romana, the peace guaranteed by Rome.”

Why should a work of charity create such a stir, and get Peter and John thrown into jail overnight? What’s the problem, exactly?

II a word: Power.

Notice how the question has moved rapidly from “what’s going on here?” to “where did you get the power to do this?” or “who authorized you to say and do these things?”

This amazing healing might have started out as an occasion to rejoice in God’s mercy, but the priests and rulers don’t see it that way. They see this event as a direct attack on their authority, and a challenge to their positions of power.

It doesn’t help that these leaders have already started to worry about the rapid growth of this new faith community. In just a few weeks, it has grown from the original 12 disciples to about 120 believers, then to 3,000 on the day of Pentecost, and now

5,000 more have “heard the word and believed” (4:4).

That’s a significant growth spurt, and the temple leaders might well have seen it as a threat. Rapid growth usually means instability, and that’s scary to leaders whose power depends on maintaining the status quo. Now a bunch of ‘uneducated and ordinary men’ (v.13) have been filled with divine power to instruct people in positions of power about the true source of power.

And this points to another problem the temple rulers had with power. Part of their job was to protect people from the full, unmediated glare of God’s glory. The power of God was so evident in Peter and John that it was frightening to those who had never experienced it in such a raw form. By Old Testament standards, they should have been afraid for their very lives, having seen God’s power so fully displayed.

If power is the problem, Peter has a solution, and it’s one every child in Sunday School knows: the answer as always is … Jesus.

At Pentecost and again in Solomon’s Porch, Peter has confessed the crucified Christ as the source of healing and salvation. Now, he reframes the high priest’s question to focus on a “good deed” – not an act of insurrection – as evidence of the power that comes only from God, and only through his Son, Jesus Christ.

Peter points a finger at the rulers as the ones responsible for Jesus’ crucifixion, and he is fully aware that three more point back at himself. When he speaks of the stone that “you, the builders” have rejected, he knows that his own denial of Jesus puts him in the same category as these priests.

And keep in mind that this event takes place just a few short weeks after Jesus has stood on this very same pavement, before these very same religious rulers, and Peter is quoting the very same verse from Psalm 118 that Jesus used. This is no accident.

It was Tuesday of Holy Week when Jesus spoke about the cornerstone, referring to both Psalm 118 and Isaiah 28. According to Matthew’s gospel, Jesus had just driven out the moneychangers the day before and was teaching in the temple courts. Using parables, he challenged the religious systems of the day, summing up the parable of the wicked tenants with the quote from Psalm 118 that describes a rejected stone becoming the cornerstone.

The people who heard Jesus that day would have been very familiar with Psalm 118. It was a psalm traditionally sung as the Passover lamb was being slaughtered. It also would be sung at the beginning of the meal on the first night of Passover. When Jesus mentioned “the stone that the builders rejected,” his listeners would have heard it in the context of Passover, even though they did not know he was referring to himself as the rejected stone.

What would cause a stonemason to reject a particular stone as a cornerstone? What attributes does a stone need to have in order to become the cornerstone? What is a cornerstone anyway?

The cornerstone is the first stone set in the construction of a masonry foundation. All the other foundation stones are set in reference to this stone, which means that the cornerstone determines the position of the entire structure. For the building to be sound, all the foundation stones must line up with the cornerstone as their reference point.

The other stones may be of various shapes and sizes, but because of its function as a reference point, the cornerstone needs to be of fairly good size, and relatively square. It needs to be a solid chunk of good quality rock, without defects. The whole building is going to rest on this stone, or be lined up with it, so most stones will be rejected for one reason or another.

Jesus had identified the builder who rejects the stone with the Temple rulers, and that shocking comparison would have still been in their memory as these same rulers heard Peter preach about God’s Son, Jesus Christ.

While Jesus might have implied the connection within the context of a parable, Peter is quite clear in his accusation. Instead of “the stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone” Peter makes it personal: “This Jesus is ‘the stone that was rejected by you, the builders; it has become the cornerstone.’” (v.11)

The parable Jesus told and the sermon Peter preaches both ask the same question: How will we respond to the grace God offers in Christ Jesus? Will we align ourselves with the cornerstone, or will we reject the Son of God?

Staying in line with Jesus keeps us in line with God and his purposes for us. God has laid the cornerstone in Jesus, but the foundation and the building of the kingdom of God must be made up of other stones, what Peter will later call “living stone.” In 1 Peter 2:4-6 we read,

“Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For it stands in scripture [and here Peter is referencing Isaiah 28]: “See, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.”

We are those living stones, when we are arranged in perfect alignment with our cornerstone, Jesus Christ. But how do we do that, exactly? How do we stay in line with Christ?

Of course, we could always fall back on the answers of reading the Bible regularly, and praying without ceasing. We could talk about maintaining fellowship with one another. Those answers are all good, and those activities are certainly part of staying aligned with Christ.

But even more, I think, it requires intentionality on our part. We must desire to be in God’s will. We must make a conscious effort to line up with our cornerstone, Jesus Christ, and give Christ the primary, central place our lives.

The cornerstone isn’t an ornament. It isn’t an add-on or an interesting architectural detail. It’s the very foundation. If Christ is to be our cornerstone, he has to be the central focus of our faith and our lives.

God sent his own Son, who has been rejected by many. God will always seek those who are willing to live in right relationship with him. That relationship depends on our relationship with Jesus Christ. If we will align ourselves with Christ, the cornerstone, we will be in right relation to God the Father. And if we don’t align ourselves with Christ, we stand in opposition to him. The choice is ours.

There is something interesting about the power we find in Christ the Cornerstone. One of my favourite authors, Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “As important as this particular cornerstone is, it is curiously passive. After the builders rejected it, it did not leap into places under its own power. Someone else placed it there. What does this say about the power vested in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth? Is it the muscular power of someone who can make things happen, or the power of one willing to lie wherever God places him, trusting God to use him well? 

Peter trusts that he does not stand in the dock alone. He is filled with the Holy Spirit. While the verb is passive, Peter is passive in the same way that a cornerstone is passive. This rock is willing to be where God places him, trusting that God will use him well”. 

Are you willing to be where God places you, trusting that God will use you well? Have you aligned yourself with Christ as your cornerstone, and made him the centre of your life? Because, “There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved.’

Rev'd Kia

Sunday 14 April, Third Sunday after Easter
Texts: Acts 3:12-19, Luke 25:36b – 48

I’d like to invite you, if you will, to imagine that you are an old Jewish tradesman in the 1st century in the middle East. You are a puzzled seeker trying to make sense of this Jesus stuff. Your thoughts may go something like this:
I’ve been interested in this Jesus movement for years, but I’m no closer to understanding it now that I’m an old man than I was all those years ago in Jerusalem. It started when my uncle took me on a business trip with him, to give me a chance to see the world, and to see if I’d like to go into the trade with him, since he’d got no sons of his own.
Now I send my sons and grandsons, and just sit at home and reminisce. They tell me I’ve earned that right, after all these years, but I notice they don’t listen to my stories! 
Anyway, that first trip to Jerusalem, I was more interested in seeing the Temple than anything else. We weren’t the most religious family in the world, but we knew that our people are special in God’s eyes, and we did what we had to do to make sure God kept remembering that. So, I pestered my uncle, and that’s how we happened to be in the Temple the afternoon a lame man got healed. My uncle insisted it was a fraud, but he didn’t see the expression on the man’s face. He was shocked, more than anything. 
Of course, everyone came running, hoping for a show, but the two man that healed him acted as though it was the kind of thing that happened every day. They said that if we believed in Jesus, our sins would be forgiven, and we’d be able to do things like that too.
My uncle didn’t want to hang around, wasting valuable trading time, but he let me go out in the evenings and sniff around. I found out quite a lot more about these Jesus people. Their Jesus had been killed by the Romans, though they seemed to blame us for it, saying that if our people had read the scriptures properly, we’d know that Jesus was the Messiah. They were causing quite a stir in the city, with their preaching and healing, and they’d made quite a lot of converts.
I liked them. They seemed kind, and they talked a lot about God loving us and forgiving us, if we believed in Jesus. I thought it would be good to be forgiven.
Us traders are always breaking the law, in little ways. You can’t get a boat to stop on the Sabbath, and you can’t be too choosy about what you eat when you’re sealing a deal. So I’ve got no hope of being righteous anyway.
Even after I went home, I never entirely forgot about the Jesus people, and it wasn’t long before they’d spread to my part of the world. So obviously I wasn’t the only one who thought they were making some kind of sense.
I used to sneak out to their meetings sometimes and try and find out more. The main thing they were saying was that you can only find out about God through this Jesus. They said that Jesus showed us what God is like, and that Jesus came to die to take away our sins, and that he rose from the dead and is alive now.
Apparently, some of the people had met people who’d met Jesus after he rose again, so they knew it was true.
That was all very interesting, but that main question kept niggling me.  What do I have to do to know that I’m right with God? Now that I’m old and I know I can’t live forever, it’s become the most important question in my life.
I haven’t been a bad person, but I haven’t been a good one either. Is it enough just to believe in Jesus? Some of these Christians seem to say that’s all there is. But some of them say that if you do believe, it will change the way you live, and that you will be good and loving.
If so, I can’t say that I’ve seen any proof of it. These Christians are as good at hating each other as anyone else. There are at least two different lots in my town, not speaking to each other.
How can I believe what they are say about us being the children of God, free and forgiven, if they can’t even forgive each other?
They’re good at blaming others, like my people, or the Romans, or some other leader who doesn’t say or do things their way. Perhaps they should try blaming themselves for a change. If they were to say, ‘We crucified Jesus, and we keep doing it, but he still forgives us and trusts us,’ then I might be able to believe that he’ll forgive me too.
There is both comfort and challenge in these words. Comfort voiced by Jesus with his risen first words, ‘Peace be with you’, but also a challenge – how do we faithfully follow the way of Jesus, how do we live this life as followers and disciples?
Do we accept both the comfort and the challenge? Or are we selective followers of The Way? The ‘peace be with you’ may provide immediate comfort. Even if not always material, it can provide ongoing strength to cope with adversity. 
But a challenge has to be accepted, as Jesus himself did on his path to the cross. The post-Jesus-physically-alive accounts in Acts give many examples to the early followers of The Way which they strive to emulate - to be the representative of the living Christ in all aspects of their lives. Success in human terms was never guaranteed and there were disputes and disagreements to be worked through. 
Our contexts are different and varied, generally less dramatic, but still presenting the challenge of being Christ in our personal relationships and in our way of living. Allocating time and money, identifying need, caring, challenging the unjust, responding to external events. We each identify our own.
In the words of the hymn by  Richard Gillard, 
‘Brother, Sister, let me serve you,
let me be as Christ to you;
Pray that I may have the grace to 
let you be my servant too.
I will hold the Christ-light for you
In the night-time of your fear;
I will hold my hand out to you,
speak the peace you long to hear.’

Let us pray,
Father, we receive you peace and rest in your presence. Reveal to us the ways we have strayed. Give us faith and perseverance and equip us to be Christ to those we meet and in all we do.
In Jesus name we pray,
Amen.

Rev'd Kia

Sunday 7 April, First Sunday after Easter
Texts: Acts 4: 32-35, John 20,:19-end

Today we hear in our readings about two seemingly very different personalities. The first being Thomas, the apostle almost invariably labelled with the epithet ‘doubting’ and then we have Barnabas, whose name we are told means ‘Son of the Encourager’. The name Barnabas is now associated with not just encouragement but also companionship and prophetic qualities. Whereas the name Thomas simply mean the ‘twin’ which begs me to ask the question as to what the other twin was called or were they simply twin one and twin two? But such idle speculation apart, the idea of Thomas as being a twin has come to symbolize his journey from doubt to faith and the constant human struggle to find an equilibrium between reason and belief.

Thomas, the disciple who refused to believe in the reality of the risen Christ unless he could actually see him. Thomas, who was not going to be convinced by the protestations of his fellow disciples, however vehement, that they had seen Jesus, seen the Lord. And let’s be quite honest with ourselves here, would we not have harboured exactly the same doubts as Thomas did? Dead men do not reappear; dead men do not walk through locked doors.  Was this a claim Thomas could really take on trust alone? Was this a claim we would have taken on trust alone back then? Oh, now we do, or we say we do, but we have had the huge advantage of two thousand yeas of continued retelling of the stories of those first few witnesses to the physical appearance of the Lord in their midst, be it in that locked room, on the road to Emmaus or by the seashore. These stories for most of us are almost imbedded in our DNA. Almost every week we proclaim the words of the Creed ‘He suffered and was buried, and the third day he rose again’ Are we so dulled by repetition that we hardly know the sheer enormity of the truth we are professing?  Or are we always properly conscious of repeating with unquestioned conviction the core belief of the Christian faith that yes, ‘Christ is risen. He is risen indeed'?   Can we, with complete honesty, hold to that faith when there are so many now who have no religious belief whatsoever and among those non- believers many who would utterly ridicule and even despise us for pronouncing such a belief, such faith in a God who not only takes on human form but then is unquestionably killed before apparently rising again and making a number of appearances to his devoted followers before,  according to more of their testimony,  ascending to heaven? Put so bluntly, so crudely, even the most devoted Christians just might have pause for thought, for entertaining at least a smidgeon of doubt. Are we completely deluded or, on the other hand, is our faith in a risen Christ completely justified? Is our faith, in effect, a well-worn comfort blanket or does it mean far far more to us? Is our faith truly central to our life and all that we strive to be?

And here I think one of the lessons to be learned from Thomas’ doubting is that we, too, are thereby given permission to express our doubts and then to actively and reflectively work through them and to seek for ourselves the living Christ in our midst as Thomas did. I think his doubting does in a way encourage us to explore our faith and thereby ensure that it truly is a living faith.

To doubt is not a sin; to doubt is something we all do at certain times, and it is then that, surely, we need the encouragement of Barnabas to take time to question our doubts and to look for answers. Doubt can, I believe, be a very powerful tool and a stimulant in helping us to explore and to cement our faith, our belief in the risen Christ. And here I found some wonderfully apt words of, believe it or not, Winnie the Pooh: ‘Sometimes you have to rethink the things you thought you thought through.’ In other words, to re-examine some of our ideas in the light of the gospel, the light of experience and the light of the witness of others plus most importantly of all the light revealed by the presence of the Spirit of God among us.

And from someone a little more erudite perhaps than Winnie the Pooh, the Bishop of Chelmsford has these wise words: ‘God is a God of surprises who, time and again, shatters our expectations, broadens our narrow vision and beckons us towards a whole new way of understanding.’ That is surely what happened to those first disciples who experienced utmost surprise, a shattering of all their previously held expectations as to what Jesus would do for them, a great broadening of their narrow vision as to God’s purposes and a whole new way of understanding just what God had done for us in sending His Son to live and die among us before becoming the risen Christ in whom we are called to have perfect faith, perfect trust. And I think Barnabas would encourage us, firstly, to allow ourselves to be surprised by God for he, surely, is the God of surprises. Secondly to allow our often limited and ego centred expectations as to what God might do for us to be shattered. Thirdly to make a very real effort to broaden our vision of God which, again if we are honest, may not have progressed that far from the childish image of a man with a long white beard sitting on a cloud. And, fourthly, to have a completely new way of understanding of the faith we claim is ours. And if this all sounds a bit daunting and rather too challenging more words of the bishop can surely encourage us: ‘And God is patient and gentle too, giving us time to catch up with divine purposes. Resurrection may have happened in a moment but its realization for the disciples dawned slowly, over time. So it can be for us today.’

So do not be afraid of doubt but use it to learn if nothing else a fraction more understanding, a wider vision of the almost unfathomable mystery that is God and to be surprised by joy in what you learn. And always be ready to both seek encouragement in your faith journey by the example of others and at the same time always be ready to be an encourager yourself.

I pray that for all of us we can in all sincerity of faith re-echo Thomas’s words: ‘My Lord and my God’ and recognise the truth of the words of our second hymn:
Lives again our glorious King; where O death is now thy sting? 
Dying once, he all doth save; where thy victory, O grave?
Soar we now where Christ has led, following our exalted head; made like him, like him we rise; ours the cross, the grave the skies.
Hail the Lord of earth and heaven! Praise to thee by both be given: thee we greet triumphant now; hail, the Resurrection thou .

Lord, we pray that we may learn to have implicit trust in your unfathomed love for us your children revealed by the life, death and resurrection of your Son and to recognise the eternal truth that neither life nor death can ever part us from that love.

Virginia Smith

Sunday 31 March - Easter Day
Texts: Acts 10:34-43, John 20: 1-18

Are we Easter people or Holy Saturday people?
What do I mean by this?
Are we lost in the darkness and confusion of Holy Saturday and in some ways content in wallowing in our inadequacies - in the ways we fall short, mess up and don’t measure up? Are we stuck in the ‘I’m never good enough’ camp? 
Holy week is a tough week to get through, it has a lot of ups – Palm Sunday and the victorious entry into Jerusalem is a definite up, but then it all turns rather sour and upsetting and violent culminating in Good Friday and the despair of Holy Saturday. 
If we stayed on Holy Saturday we might well be left wrestling with despair and ‘what’s the point’ questions. We may well look about us and see the misery, the failure and the confusion.
But if we are honest, if I am honest, I can get stuck on the Holy Saturday vibe.
Life out there looks a bit grim at times. I feel a bit grim sometimes. I fail, I forget, I am a bit rubbish.
But I am forgetting about Easter day. The resurrection, the hope, the new way of life that was made possible by Jesus.
Today is a day to remember that we are Easter people. That we live with the promise of new beginnings – freedom from guilt and shame – freedom to embrace the hope of eternal life. Freedom of a life lived in the forgiving and loving arms of our Father God.
All this made possible because of Jesus’ resurrection.
It’s so fantastical we struggle to believe it, to embrace it. But if we dare to believe it, a life beyond our wildest dreams is possible.
Imagine a life where all our mistakes, all our shameful secrets are erased from history. Imagine the freedom we would feel.
All that there is is a love to fall into – no condemnation, no guilt trip – just love and an acceptance that actually we are ok. We are loveable, we are worthwhile, we have a purpose.
We are forgiven.
All this is made possible because of the cross.
The cross is an eternal mystery.
How and what happened when Jesus died on the cross – what’s called Atonement – is something that many theologians have spent centuries debating and exploring - and their answers? 
Well, a bunch of theories. Nothing conclusive. Nothing universally accepted.
It's hard to explain experience.
The experience of forgiveness, the experience of hope, the experience of having our relationship with God restored, the experience of living a life fully alive.
It’s a mystery we have to learn to live with.
All I know is that before I believed, I lived on Holy Saturday – a bit confused, relying on my own coping mechanisms and not doing a terribly good job of life. But once I accepted Jesus in my life, once I surrendered to the mystery of the cross my life began again.
We are not Holy Saturday people – lost, bewildered and despairing – we are Easter people with a new life offered to us through faith, through trust and a belief that although we might not understand it completely, we are loved beyond measure. So much so that our Father gave his only Son to prove it.
So let us live into this offering – the offer of a life lived in all it’s fullness, a life of forgiveness, a life of freedom and a life of hope. If not now, what are we waiting for?

Let us pray,
Father God, we don’t pretend to understand the gift you offer us, so we ask for your help. Grant us the gift of faith so we can live into the people you have called us to be. We echo the words in the Gospel of Mark ‘I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief’.
And we thank you for this Easter day, the promise of new beginnings, fresh starts and new life. We give ourselves to you for your glory, Amen.

Rev'd Kia

Wednesday 27 March, Compline (at St James) - Head
O sacred head, surrounded by crown of piercing thorn! O bleeding head, so wounded, so shamed and put to scorn.

This is the head that is now given a kingly crown; only,, now at the time of his death, does Jesus’ head bear the acknowledged symbol of kingship. Surely this is the heaviest crown ever worn, for this crown is encrusted and weighted down with the sins of the world. This is the head from which droplets of blood fall from the wounds inflicted by the biting clasp of needle - sharp thorns. Droplets of blood that point to the ebbing life force of this man who was truly human, truly divine.

This is the head like any head, thick bone encasing the myriad and unfathomable mysterious complexities of the brain within. 

This is Christ’s head whose eyes looked out onto His world, the world His Father had created in all its wonder. Whose eyes saw the intricate beauty and the glory of the lilies of the field; saw the birds, the small creatures and had reverence for them all. These eyes scanned the heavens as he stood to pray in quiet places; scanned the immensity of space and recognised the limitless power of God his Father. These were the eyes that sought out his fellow human beings; who spotted Zacchaeus perched in the sycamore tree and recognised the inner poverty of this little man. These were the eyes that looked down upon Jerusalem and wept for this city that had lost its way; had lost its understanding of the purposes of God.  These were the eyes that wept when he shared the bitter grief of Martha and Mary at the death of Lazarus; wept because he too had loved this man. These were the eyes that looked directly at the sores of the lepers and recognised the needs of Jairus, the needs of the Centurion, the needs of His own Mother as he looked down from the cross and saw her anguish. These were the eyes that read the scriptures, the word of God and interpreted them for those who would listen. These were the eyes through which the light of the world shone out into the darkness.

Think of our eyes and what we have seen as we have lived out our lives. Have we always paused to notice the glory of the flowers of the field at our feet and the awesome canopy of space stretching away to eternity and given praise? Have we seen the needs of others and have we too wept bitter tears not just for our own griefs but the griefs of others? Have we seen in the dirt and the dross of the streets of the world the festering sores and the contagion of disease or have we averted our eyes from sights that affront us and make us fearful?  Have we read with deep perception the scriptures and in them heard the word of God speaking to us?  .

This is Christ’s head whose mouth could speak words of healing and words of wisdom. From this mouth the words of the beatitudes were spoken ‘Blessed are the meek for they will inherit the earth’. ‘Blessed are the merciful for they will obtain mercy.’ ‘Blessed are the pure in heart for they will see God.’ Words that were spoken with divine insight that all who hear them might understand some of the profound truths of the kingdom of heaven. So, too, He spoke the words of the prayer that is shared and reverenced by all who profess the name of Christ. This was the mouth of Christ who told the most wonderful entrancing stories pregnant with inner meaning for those who would listen, and conveyed in parables some of the mysteries of the kingdom of God. This was the mouth that spoke stern words warning about hypocrisy, idolatry, materialism, selfishness and greed. But this, too, was the mouth that spoke tender loving words to those who needed the consolation of his love, the forgiveness of their sins and hope for the future.

Think of our mouths and the countless words we have spoken since we first learned to enunciate, to communicate with others, to express verbally our inmost thoughts and feelings,. Have we spoken words of wisdom, words of encouragement to those seeking the truth of the gospel? Have we spoken up courageously against injustice, corruption and all the evils of the world without prejudice and without dishonesty? Have we spoken words of comfort, words of hope, words that express in their utter simplicity the love of God for all His people and our own love that reflects that divine loving? And when have we used words to abuse, to wound, to criticise and to express hate? When have we failed to guard our tongues and listen for your voice before we speak?

This is the head whose ears were attuned to the voice of God and the voice of His people. These ears listened for the silence in which God spoke ‘This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased.’ These are the ears that heard the spiteful strident cruel voices of those who hated him, those who judged him, those who feared the good news that he brought. And, in hearing them, he responded ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you'. These were the ears that heard the braying of the crowd as his crowned head looked down upon them and prayed ‘Father forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.’

Have we listened with ears attuned to the natural rhythms of the world?

Have we sat with quiet stillness to listen to the needs of others, their concerns, their doubts their fears, not interrupting not jumping in with our own opinions, our own judgements, just listening in valued companionship? Have we heard barb wounding words spoken against us that we allow to catch deep within us and fester poisonously in our unconscious? Have we failed to hear God urging us to forgive those who spoken out against us? And have we found the courage to stand in utter silence seeking to hear the still small voice of God, blotting out all the raucous cacophony of the world’s sounds that can so easily prevent our hearing that voice? Have we heard that still small voice speaking the words of forgiveness, of encouragement and love that will restore us and redeem us?

Christ’s head on the pillow of the cross crowned with thorns, eyes seeing the hurt of the world, ears hearing the cries of the world, mouth speaking words of divine forgiveness before proclaiming ‘It is finished.’

You do not have to look for anything,
Just look.
You do not have to listen for 
Specific sounds,
Just listen.
You do not have to accomplish anything,
Just be.

And in the looking
And in the listening
And the being,
Find
Me. 

Virginia Smith

Tuesday 26 March, Compline (at St James) - Feet
Come see his hands and his feet, the scars that speak of sacrifice, hands that flung stars into space to cruel nails surrendered.

See Christ’s feet nailed to the main beam of the cross; nailed with the same brutality as his hands have been pinned. Again see the splintered bones, the torn and shredded sinews as the nails hold him there powerless to move; frozen there in an agony of time. Feet pointing downwards to the earth he had walked upon so freely. His persecutors believe they have ensured that never more will this man, this criminal, this blasphemer roam abroad; that by this act of naked barbarism they have successfully and irrevocably curtailed his movements; stripped him of  his ability to walk abroad unfettered upon the ground of God’s creation.

These were the feet that, like the hands, were once wondered at in their perfection; tiny but like all the wonders of the human body intricately fashioned and designed. Did Mary and Joseph examine each toe, caress the sole and wonder where these feet would one day take him. These were the feet on which he took his first tottering steps; lurching unsteadily as he fought to control his balance; to propel himself forward; to reach the chosen goal. And, as he grew, confident these were the feet on which he learned to run, to jump, to send a stone skittling across the pathway or to tiptoe away to the secret pursuits that entrance small children. 

Think of your own feet; maybe even remove your shoes and wiggle your toes. Reflect upon how these feet have grown over the years; perhaps becoming misshapen and calloused; aching after a long time spent standing or after an over ambitious walk. Think of how they have kicked balls, or danced, or raced to catch a bus or win that hundred metres. Think of the joy of walking barefoot along a sandy beach or new mown grass. Reflect upon all your feet mean to you.

These are the feet that turned back on the journey home and took him, oblivious of the anxiety he would cause by his absence, to His Father’s house.  These are the feet that wandered through the desert places as he wrestled with Satan in preparation for his divine ministry. These are the feet that tramped the hills and countryside of Galilee; mile upon dusty mile covered as he strode to show to those who would listen; those who would learn in the power of the Spirit that he alone was the way; the only true way. 

Think or look at your feet. Where have they travelled in your life’s journey? How many times have they led you to turn aside to worship in some place where you felt the call of God? What wonderful and amazing valleys or mountains have they taken you to; there to gaze overwhelmed with the rapture of the moment and give thanks and praise for some of the glories of creation? When have these feet led you into testing times of temptation; times when you perhaps have found it hard to reverse your route and find again the narrow way; the narrow way where your feet follow dutifully but willingly in the footsteps of Christ? 

These are the feet that were usually dirty; clothed in dust, shod in simple sandals and washed, if custom was observed, when he entered as a guest into a stranger’s home. These are the feet that Mary anointed with expensive perfume; the fragrance filling the house. These are the feet that she dried with her hair. Perfume intended for his burial but now used on living feet; feet that were free from any restricting nails. Feet that had traversed the paths of the weary, the lame, the crippled and the paralysed.

Think or look at your feet and reflect when they have been dirty, dust encrusted and when perhaps someone has, in simple service, bathed them, caressed and massaged them. Into whose homes have these feet taken you and what have you found there? Have you too discovered as Christ did the needs of others and walked in love to embrace them?

These are the feet that strode purposefully into that upper room where his disciples awaited him. These were the feet of the man who, stripped off his clothes, wrapped a towel around himself and knelt, knelt in servility, knelt in humility to wash the feet of those chosen men. Washed away the dirt accumulated during the day, washed away the deeply ingrained dirt, massaged the callouses and the cuts to restore those feet to cleanliness, to comfort, to ease. These are the feet on which he stood firm as a rock purposeful and focused in order to bless bread and wine for his chosen guests.

Think or look at your feet when they have taken you purposefully to unexpected places? When have they taken you to places where you have found the dirty, the unclean, the damaged and the wounded? Have you knelt to wash the feet of such people? Have you humbled yourself, deliberately and in love made yourself as servant to others? Are you being called even now to walk into a situation where you are needed to follow the example of Christ? and will you follow him faithfully through the coming days to the very foot of the cross?

O Jesus thou hast promised to all who follow thee, that where thou art in glory there shall thy servant be; and Jesus, I have promised to serve thee to the end: O give me grace to follow, my Master and my friend.

O let me see thy footsteps and in them plant mine own; my hope to follow duly is in thy strength alone: O guide me call me, draw me, uphold me to the end; and then in heaven receive me, my Saviour and my friend.

Virginia Smith

Monday 25 March, Compline - Hands
Come see his hands and his feet, the scars that speak of sacrifice, hands that flung stars into space to cruel nails surrendered.

Hands pierced by nails, great clumsy pieces of iron hammered in with brutal power, hammered in with thoughtless, uncaring cruelty; each blow struck with deliberate force tearing through flesh, bone and sinew; blood and skin scarring the hands of the executioners. Nails that pinned Christ’ hands to the cross seemingly denying him all freedom as they held him there, fastened in time and space. Nails that rendered him helpless, impotent; nails that made him an object of derision for all those who, as they passed by, could only see a criminal, a trouble-maker, a man who deserved his fate suspended in an eternity of suffering.

These were the hands that Mary and Joseph would have marvelled and wondered over when he was first born. The tiny perfectly formed hands of the new-born infant ready to curl around a finger or clutch the mother’s breast; each finger, each tiny nail perfect and unblemished. The little thumb that maybe he sucked for comfort as he slipped into the dreamless sleep of the new-born.

Look at your hands carefully and think what they mean to you; each individual finger, the thumbs; all ten digits shaped by your life and by all the different things you have asked them to do for you. Look at the palm crisscrossed by lines and the back of the hands where the blue veins show the life bringing blood coursing through. Maybe there are scars from some accident or mischance that you can still recall, remember still your pain, your blood or your shattered bone. Maybe, too, there are the brown blotches speaking of the dignity of age; the years that have passed since your hands were those of the new-born infant. Look at your hands carefully and reflect upon what they mean to you.

These were the hands that began to form wood, shaping it with care, making the yokes that fitted with ease causing no discomfort to the animal upon whose back they were laid.  The hands of a craftsman, agile and skilful, rough workmanlike hands scarred here and there by the slip of a tool or the splintering of wood. Hands that were useful, whose skill was admired by those who understood his trade, but these were not the hands of a king, these hands were never smooth, nails buffed, adorned with jewel studded rings. These hands never knew the luxury of rich ointments being lavishly rubbed into each crack and crevice. These hands were never manicured; these hands only knew the dignity of humble work and the creative power of shaping wood into an object of tactile beauty. These were the hands of a servant; the servant who came in humility to serve the world.

Look at your hands. What things have they created with intricate skill?  A piece of needlework or pottery, a painting, a child’s shawl or a thick sweater.? Think of how you use them day in and day out almost unthinkingly as you carry out well practised routine, the routines of a servant? Use them to wash, to cook, to garden, to clean, to carry, to write, to cut and to shape. Look at your hands and marvel at what they have done for you.  

These were the hands that reached out to touch people, men women and children. These hands reached out to the untouchables; the people that no one else would ever consider making contact with; the lepers with weeping sores, shunned and feared; the beggars, dirty louse infested, stinking; the demoniacs, raving wildly in their mental confusion, terrifying to those who could not enter or understand their distress; the dying and the dead reminding the living of their own mortality. These were hands that held all the mystery, the wonder, the glory of God’s healing; these were the hands that brought comfort, reassurance, a new life, hope for the future; these were the hands that brought healing to body, mind and spirit to those who sought it.

Look at your hands. When have they reached out to heal, to comfort, to support? When have they reached out in selfless love? When have your hands held those of the ill, the vulnerable, the confused, the frail and the dying? Can you think of the warmth of those contacts; the flowing of love between your hands and theirs. And when have you been touched by someone’s hands and felt the enveloping comfort and healing that they bring? Look at your hands and thank God for the healing that has flowed through them.

These were the hands that held small children within their comforting grasp; honouring them as true children of God; showing them the friendship of God, the closeness of God. These were the hands that were lifted in blessing. Hands bringing God’s blessing, God’s peace to the poor, the needy, the frightened, the abused and the sinful.

These were the hands that helped lift brimming fishing nets from the deep waters of the lake; the hands that touched five loaves and two fish that they might become the food of thousands. These were the hands that were lifted again and again in prayer as he sought the source of all life and the power of the Spirit. 

And these were the hands that took bread, blessed it and broke it saying ‘Take this is my body’ So too he took in his hands the cup of wine and gave thanks and gave it to his disciples saying ‘This is my blood of the new covenant which is poured out for many.’

Look at your hands and recall how they have been used to help and assist others. Remember the times that they have held small children lovingly safely in their grasp; the times when they have worked in conjunction with the hands of friend or stranger. Look at your hands and recall receiving into them Sunday by Sunday the body of Christ. Look at your hands and know just how they have been blessed by the hands of Christ himself.

A Baby’s hands in Bethlehem were small and softly curled
But held within their dimpled grasp then hopes of half the world A Carpenter’s in Nazareth were skilled with tool and wood:
They laid the beams of simple homes and found their labour good. A healer’s hands in Galilee were stretched to all who came
For him to cleanse the hidden wounds or cure the blind and lame.
Long, long ago the hands of Christ were nailed upon a tree
But still their holy touch redeems the hearts of you and  me.
Leslie Savage Clark

Virginia Smith

Sunday 24 March, Palm Sunday
During this Benefice Palm Sunday service we read the Passion Narrative. There was no traditional sermon.

Sunday 17 March, Fifth in Lent
Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here.

9.00am Communion
Texts: Jeremiah 31:31-34 John 12:20-33

At last a nice easy covenant. At last, Jeremiah seems to be suggesting, God will give up trying to teach us things and just zap us, changing us so that it becomes natural for us to know God.
We won’t need to be taught, we won’t need to ask others, or experiment or learn about God through rehearsing past history. God will be part of us, written on our hearts.
But I’m sorry to have to tell you that it isn’t that simple.
Although the emotion that is uppermost in this passage is longing – longing for the time when God and his people will be united – there is also anger and despair.
The words that Jeremiah is speaking to his people on behalf of God are very hard to hear.
For one thing, he is saying that the covenant that constituted them as God’s people in the first place has been broken.
The story of the Exodus is a foundational story for the people of God – a story of which we are a part.
They base all their identity and their claims on God on that covenant. But Jeremiah says, very boldly, ‘You broke that covenant. It’s dead and gone’.
He is also implying that the people are actually incapable of faithfulness and love of God.
This new covenant, written on their hearts, may sound wonderful but it is actually a last resort. 
God has to do it this way because his people are incapable of keeping any other kind of covenant.
Only by wiping the slate clean and starting again can God achieve what he set out to do when he first created people.
This is part of the story, the BIG story that guides and informs our walk of faith as Christians.
Both our readings this morning speak into the big picture of the story of faith which can be summarised in five acts:
1. Creation: In the beginning God created everything good.
2. Fall: But things went badly wrong as people went their own way. Our rebellion put humans in conflict with God, each other, and the world around us.
3. Israel: Beginning with Abraham, God chose a particular people through whom to demonstrate his character and redemption plan. We hear through Jeremiah how that is going.
4. Redemption: God’s rescue project for his creation involved coming in person. Jesus, the promised saviour of Israel, lived the life that you and I failed to live, and in his death he mysteriously bore the consequence of all our failures, bringing salvation to the whole world.
5. New Creation: Now each person is invited to step into a future that is defined by the hope of his resurrection and a new world to come.
This is the Christian story of hope, failure, hope again and new life. A story that past generations have lived by, been guided by and have found purpose and meaning in.
A story that perhaps, in recent generations, and especially in current culture has been forgotten and bypassed by instant gratification and self-determination.
A story that has the potential to inspire and ground us as God’s people, one that we perhaps need to lean into a little more.
As we continue to reflect in this season of Lent let us revisit our part in the amazing and life changing narrative. Let us place our feet firmly in the hope and life giving invitation offered to us by God through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
Amen.
Rev'd Kia

6.00pm Evensong
Texts: Jeremiah 31:31-34, John 12:20-33

Today marks the beginning of what in the Church’s year is known as Passiontide; the last two weeks of the Lenten journey. And, as our erudite organist, has pointed out it is a journey we make this particular year in the good and holy company of no less than three saints, Patrick, Cuthbert and Joseph, together with a martyred Archbishop, Thomas Cranmer. And I thought maybe a short history of each of these four men, and sorry there are no women, might help to inspire us in this Passiontide fortnight and maybe act as our companions on the way.

St Patrick’s day is, of course, today and will certainly be celebrated not just in the Emerald Isle but in all those places around the globe where Irish people have found new homes for themselves and especially in the United States where they really go to town with huge parades. St Patrick was not, in fact, Irish by birth being of Romano-British descent and originally called  Succat which doesn’t seem to have quite  the same ring as Patrick. At the age of sixteen he was captured by raiders and taken from his home near Carlisle to Ireland. After six years he managed to escape to Gaul where he entered a monastery and was ordained deacon. He never, though, forgot those harsh years in Ireland and when he was forty-two was given the opportunity to return and within a year was consecrated as Bishop of Ireland. At this time Druidism was very much alive and kicking in Ireland but armed with the ‘breastplate of Christ’ Patrick successfully turned a largely pagan country into a Christian one and in his time ordained no less than three hundred bishops and three thousand presbyters; such success would surely be the envy of today’s Church of England. He is credited with banning all snakes from Ireland but cynics will tell you they were never there in the first place. He also apparently begged God that Ireland would sink beneath the waves seven years before the day of doom. That we will most probably never see unless tragically global warming increases even further dragging more and more land beneath the waves.

Next up we have St Cuthbert, another famed Celtic saint, born in Scottish border country and while only a young lad out tending sheep, he saw a vison of angels carrying a soul to heaven and, cheerfully abandoning the sheep to their own devices, set off for the monastery at Melrose where he learned the great St Aidan had just died. At which point Cuthbert immediately offered to adopt the religious life vowing to continue Aidan’s work in spreading the gospel throughout Northumbria. He became, in time, Prior of Melrose before deciding he couldn’t be doing with all the wrangles of the time between the Roman and Celtic Churches and retired to the island of Inner Frane where, assisted by a helpful angel, he built himself a hermitage. Here he adopted a lifestyle which involved regular mortifying of the flesh by standing waist deep in the sea to recite psalms which, to me, sounds far more unpleasant than the wrangling. Legend declares that after such an immersion otters would come to warm his frozen legs. After ten years of this austere life he was persuaded to return to Lindisfarne as Bishop but two years later opted once more for the hermit’s life in company, no doubt, with the otters and the Eider ducks, known after Cuthbert as  Cuddy ducks, with whom he apparently liked to chat. We have no record of what their response was to such conversations, but one suspects again that they were somewhat one-sided.

The last of our saintly companions is Joseph about whom in contrast to Patrick and Cuthbert we know virtually nothing bar the facts that, according to Matthew, he has a most impressive genealogy which goes back as far as Abraham and includes both Kings David and Solomon among his forbears. We also know he was a carpenter but there you have it. Although there was a fifteenth century nun who, as a result of a vison, was inspired to write the true biography of Joseph which includes the details that he was aged thirty- three at the time of Jesus’ birth and occasionally ate meat, unlike his wife Mary who was a strict vegetarian.  However, despite eating meat on occasions, he was of a sickly constitution and was persuaded by Mary to take early retirement.  To boost his profile in 1933 the then Pope proclaimed him as ‘Patron of those who combat atheistic communism.’ What Jospeh thought of this responsibility we have simply no idea. He is also, please note, the patron of a happy death so we may all in time find ourselves praying to him to ensure that happens.

Finally, as a possible companion we have Thomas Cranmer who, sadly, cannot boast a halo but only a rather unattractive black cap as seen in his dour faced portraits. From our school history lessons we will no doubt remember he was instrumental in obtaining Henry the Eighth's annulment of marriage from the first of his six wives Catherine of Aragon and of course, most significantly, we are using tonight the Book of Common Prayer, the compilation and editing of which he masterminded during the reign of young Edward. The return of the Roman Catholic Mary to the throne obviously upset the apple cart as far as Cranmer was concerned  as she wanted no truck with any form of Church reformation and, as we also know from our history lessons, it was not at all a good time to be a reformer and her zeal to ensure that England returned to proper decent Catholic ways of worship earned for her the title of ‘Bloody Mary.’  Cranmer was a prime target and, poor man, was, under her orders, burned at the stake. His dying words as the flames licked around him were, "Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. I see the heavens open and Jesus standing at the right hand of God."  I’m not sure if one could credit St Joseph with providing a happy death for him but maybe that sight of the heavens opening for him helped a little. 

So, these are our particular companions as we are drawn to the cross , three of whom have earned for themselves several pages in the history books and one about whom we can only say with any confidence was a carpenter. But what they had in common was total and unquestioning obedience to the call that God gave to each of them and in answering that call each of them found a particular way to serve him. Whether we would choose them as our travelling companions only you can say but as we continue forward may we all remember the millions upon millions who have made and are making this journey with us The vast majority unsung carpenters with just a few feted bishops thrown in but whoever we are assured that we are loved equally by God our Father. But whether carpenters or bishops, when we reach that cross on Good Friday and see the figure of Christ with arms outstretched to embrace us in his redemptive love and thereby recognise the sheer enormity, then utterly preposterous sacrifice in what God has done for us, his children, is one and all to look up at that cross in true humility and make this prayer:
Just as I am, without one plea but that thy blood was shed for me, and that thou bidst me come to thee, O Lamb of God I come. 

And within that holy presence make this prayer which would surely be echoed by not just our four particular traveling companions but all who tread the path to Calvary:
I pray that God himself will work in me, that through my words and deeds he’ll bless  the world he loves; that I will never shirk the call to lend a little of his grace to all who need it; that I will not shrink from sharing all I have; that I’ll redress, as best I can, the world’s injustice, drink so deeply from the well of life that I may bring all those who thirst back to its brink.   

Virginia Smith

Sunday 10 March, Mothering Sunday

We’ve come here this morning to say thank you.
Thank you to our mothers for all that they are and all that they do for us. 
And for some of us we have come here to remember. To remember our mothers who are no longer here to say thank you to – but we remember their words, their actions and the way in which they loved us.
As I was remembering my mother this week, who died nearly 6 years ago, I was trying to recall any pearls of wisdom, any words of advice that she left me with. But actually what I remember most was the way she made me feel.
Loved, secure, safe and valued. Which made me feel brave and indestructible in the world.
Unconditional love can make you feel that way. Unconditional love is the greatest gift we can give to each other and the greatest gift that God gives each one of us.
And loving never stops.
A 102 year old lady was asked if she had any worries.
Her reply, 'No not now I have got my youngest son in an old people's home'.
I guess parents never stop worrying about their children.
However, sometimes it's the children that worry about their parents and the things they do.
As a 10 year old once said: 'When your mum is mad at your dad, don't let her brush your hair!'
And a 13 year old also learnt one of life's lessons: 'When you get bad marks at school, show it to your Mum when she's on the phone'.
Today is 'Mothering Sunday' and our traditional festival dates back to the 16th century, when there were very few holidays, and children as young as 10 were at work away from home.
They would be given the day off on this mid-Lent Sunday to visit their mothers and family.
Girls who were 'in service' would bake a cake to show their mothers their new skills - a 'Simnel Cake'.
What's more, as they walked home across the country, they would gather violets and other wild flowers to give to their mums as a gift, and also to take to church. Later in our service we too will come and gather these beautiful posies to give to our mothers.
Today has become a day to give thanks for the care of the Church, and to reflect on God's loving nature.
It is also a time to express thanks to our mothers, and celebrate motherhood.
It's natural for us to remember the happy times of childhood and those happy memories of our parents.
For those of us who are parents I wonder if we can remember wondering what our child would grow up to be and do. That little bundle of potential lying in our arms. Would those temper tantrums serve little Johnny well in the board room? Does the fact he spends hours taking apart, and sometimes putting back together, his toy car mean he’s going to be an engineer? When our middle child tries to appease the ferocious arguments between her siblings mean she’s going to get a job in the United Nations? Who knows what the future holds?!
As time goes by we discover that being a parent is a mixture of highs and lows, joys and sorrows.
Surely, whenever anyone truly loves, they experience moments of pure joy, and times of pain and heartache.
Human relationships are never easy and being a mother, or father, is never simple. To love is hard work.
It means making ourselves vulnerable in self-giving - emotionally sharing in the lives of others but it also the most rewarding thing we do.
I wonder if God feels this too?
He loves us as a Father and a Mother – hiding us under his wing, protecting us, sheltering us – loving us through thick and thin.
So, as we come together to give thanks for Mothers and those that have nurtured us, let us also give thanks to God – for his unconditional love and faithfulness to us all.
Amen.

Intercessions
Let us pray
Heavenly Father we bring to you in our prayers today all whom we love, our family, our friends and our neighbours.
Help us all to live so that we may strengthen and enrich the life of the family, help us to build with you the kind of family which welcomes the stranger, the lonely and the needy.
On this special day we remember that all through our lives we have reason to be thankful for our mothers and care givers.
We thank you heavenly father for all they have done for us and pray that the love they show for us may be reflected in the way that we show our love for others and in the way we each strive to live our lives according to your will.
Lord in your mercy
Hear our prayer
Father God, we thank you for our children here in this parish. It is a tough world to navigate so we ask for your help and guidance as we try and raise them the best we can. Help us love, protect and steer them in accordance with your will so they can live lives to the full and flourish and thrive.
Lord in your mercy
Hear our prayer
Heavenly Father we remember that whilst we celebrate Mothers Day today there are those who do not feel happy, those who are sick, those who are sad, lonely, or away from their families, those families where there is conflict, Father we place each of them in your gentle hands that they may know the comfort, reconciliation and peace which your love brings.
Lord in your mercy
Hear our prayer
Merciful father Accept these prayers for the sake of you son our Saviour Jesus Christ.

Rev'd Kia

Sunday 4 March, Third in Lent
Text: John 2: 13-22

What I wonder makes you angry? Do you fulminate against the Government and all its apparent failures one moment and then turn on the opposition’s responses the next moment? Do you see red when you learn of the lamentable state of the NHS or Social Services? Do you boil over with frustration when you hit another pot hole which the council has failed to deal with or hear of the latest piece of ‘wokery’? Do you get hot under the collar when told for the umpteenth time that ‘your call is important to us’ or when, once again, the traffic into Dorking is all snarled up and we haven’t even mentioned the cyclists yet!

Anger! We’ve all known it, I am quite certain, at one time or another and blown a fuse or two over some issue, often to be honest a very minor one, which has incensed us. And while we’re on the subject do not let’s forget those flashes of anger, the heated anger of uncontrolled shouting and even the swearing or the icy anger of hateful uncommunicative silences that can occur in almost any household however even tempered one may be most of the time. 

Anger which can at times, in certain circumstances, be fully justified and at others is simply unacceptable, self- indulgent behaviour.  And here I confess that when younger I could far too easily explode at some perceived or trivial wrongdoing when counting to ten slowly would have achieved a far more reasoned approach and caused a lot less friction in the family environment. Anger which I hope over the years I have learned serves no useful purpose bar, on rare occasional, as a safety valve to be released in the privacy of my own company. And thinking about all this while my anger has diminished my sorrow at the human failings that bring about such horrors as war, deprivation and injustice has increased exponentially. Sorrow at the anger that is born out of innate hatred and unleashed becomes the cause of the terrible wars raging now in Gaza, the Ukraine and parts of Africa.  Sorrow at the extreme position, be it on the left or the right, adopted by some people in our own country.

In today’s Gospel reading we hear of Jesus’s truly dramatic outburst of anger when he caused absolute havoc in the temple precincts. Reading it one recognises that in a phrase he truly flipped as he forcefully turned over the tables of those traders, scattering their wares.  Jesus, who always recognised the struggles of the poor and the disadvantaged, witnessed in those precincts the ‘ripping off’ of such people  They were being ‘ripped off’ by both those who sold animals for sacrifice at an inflated price of some ten to fifteen percent but, more particularly, by those who exchanged the hard earned Roman coins for the Temple coins, the only legitimate currency in that supposedly holy place. Here it is suggested that the mark-up could easily be as high as twenty-five percent. And, of course, the temple authorities themselves benefited greatly from this inflated commerce, and the historian Josephus described Annas, to whom Jesus was first taken after his arrest, as ‘a great hoarder of money,’ Is it any wonder Jesus was angry at such punitive financial dealings which, just as nowadays, hit the poorest hardest. The poor who were like everyone else required by law to make a pilgrimage to the Temple and there to fulfil the obligation to purchase animals for sacrifice; the poor like Jesus’ own parents Joseph and Mary who, after his birth, could only afford  to give as a sacrifice a  pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons rather than the far more expensive  lamb. And the true significance of this is seen later when Jesus was himself sacrificed as the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

Thinking about all this it seems to me that in part Jesus’s turning over of the tables was symbolic and represented in a way the turning over the tables of Mammon, of greed and of self-enrichment, of downright corruption at the expense of others. Turning over these tables to replace them with the table of God; the table of God whose priceless wares are those of love, compassion, mercy and forgiveness for all. The table of God at which shortly we will share the gifts of bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ given in the purest, most costly sacrifice for God’s children for us. I think Jesus was all too aware of the potential destructiveness of Mammon, described as the greedy pursuit of gain, which all too often creates a terrible gulf between rich and poor, the advantaged and the disadvantaged. Wasn’t that destructiveness to be seen in the mark-up of goods sold in the Temple precincts? Wasn’t it seen in the increasing wealth of the priests as they took their cut.  The Scribes. too. knew exactly how to add to their bank balance as they charged over the odds for preparing legal documents. widows being particularly vulnerable to their smart practices.  So, too, we know from gospel stories and other evidence that tax collectors served not just the occupying power of the Romans but themselves as well. No wonder Jesus was enraged, just as he would be today at any practices which deny justice to the poor and add to the coffers of the wealthy. How many of our churches' tables would he like to overturn when fund raising and meeting the financial demands of the diocese may at times seem to be prioritised over worship and pastoral care?  How many of our own personal tables would he like to overturn?  Because, whoever we are, we are all guilty of greed and self-interest at times and while we may not, as the Temple traders did, actually exploit the poor, we may very well choose to ignore them.  When we fill our shopping trolleys in Waitrose or Lidl do we stop to ensure that we have also carefully purchased something of real value to add to the Food Bank Collection or do we toss in a tin of baked beans to salve our conscience or are we in truth simply unaware of those collection points?

Here, just to make the point, Waitrose’s turnover was £7.3 billion last year while Lidl’s was £7.3 billion, while the Food Banks in the year April 2022 to March 2023 distributed almost three million emergency food parcels and, on average, each Food Bank had to spend some £1,400 a month to ensure that they had enough supplies to meet demand. What, I wonder, would Jesus make of all this? To be honest I am not sure but there would, if not anger itself, definitely be sorrow that such a dire and unequal situation exists in what is one of the richest countries of the world.

As followers of Christ do we, at this time of Lent, need to take a closer look at which tables we are spending most of our time? Are they the tables which offer material wealth and personal well-being to be hoarded and kept solely for our own good fortune? Or are they the tables where we look to find the generous riches of love, compassion, forgiveness and mercy to share freely and liberally with others and thus bless their good fortune?  Questions I am certain we all need to ask ourselves as we continue our Lenten journey to that cross where the sacrificial lamb gave us the greatest wealth the world has ever known; the wealth that is the eternal love of God in this world and the next.

Virginia Smith                                    

Sunday 25 February, Second Sunday in Lent
Texts: Genesis 17: 1-7, 15&16

Today I would like to take you on a journey, a very personal journey but one I hope that, in some way, accords with your own journeys, your own experiences. I grew up in the south east in a community that was all white and in which most people had their roots. I think the only person I knew at all well from further away was one of my Father’s golfing friends who came from Scotland which to me seemed a truly foreign country. Then, between school and university I worked for a year and fortunately just down the road from where we lived was the world renowned Rothamsted Agricultural Station who gave me my first job and where for the first time I met and worked alongside people from much further away than Scotland and of a different skin colour. But whatever our backgrounds we were there to work as a team and I still remember a wonderful party hosted by two of the Indians where for the first time I was treated to the fabulous taste of a genuine curry.

Later with two small children in tow I lived for four years  in Mexico which culturally was quite different to anything I was used to back in England and if nothing else their idea of time was almost non-existent but oh how they loved parties. There was also a time spent in Brazil where, again, I almost felt myself in an alien land with their crazy driving, their shocking gulf between rich and poor and their cavalier approach to crime which included the advice to ex-pats to carry guns and be ready to use them if one’s home was broken into!

But, if I am honest, while I came to encounter so many more people from around God’s earth my life remained for the most part that of a white woman living in a predominantly white community because even when abroad it was an ex-pat community around which my life centred.

And it was only when I became a chaplain at St Peter’s Hospital that my eyes were at least partially opened to the reality that truly we are one family in God and, if nothing else, this fact is attested to by the  knowledge that daily all around God’s earth people are saying the words Jesus taught us which begin with that amazing acknowledgement that we are indeed praying to God who is Father to all. Should you wish to you can buy a book which contains no less than five hundred versions of this prayer in different languages which is surely confirmation of God’s promise to the newly named Abraham that ‘I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations’. Abraham who did indeed fulfil that sacred covenant to become the ‘Father of many’; the ‘Father of many’ among whom we must count ourselves and all our neighbours whoever they may be; neighbours who with us are all equal within that amazing divine family.

But apart from this universal reality which it can be too easy to forget, what I came to be shown more and more, was that while we may have different languages, different customs and different skin colour, and while we may have various ways of worshipping God what we do have are common experiences, common joys and common sorrows, common concerns and common anxieties. Goodness knows how many different nationalities are represented in that hospital and indeed any British hospital, albeit that many are now second or third generation British passport holders. As over time I have come to know at least a fair few of them well I have been privileged to share the experiences, the joys, the sorrows, the concerns and the anxieties. The joy of a new baby, a marriage, the passing of an important exam or a career promotion. The sorrow of the death of a family member often made more poignant by the fact that a sea or even an ocean separates the living and the dying and it is simply not physically possible to share the grief with other family members.  The sorrow of homesickness so acutely felt by those whose loved ones are just so far away and they do not have the financial means to visit.   The concerns about family members or friends that we all experience be it concerns about ageing parents or rebellious teenage children, which are integral to the nature of their work. And the anxieties, again, are the ones we all know be it trying to sell one’s house or anxieties about one’s own health, anxieties about just what the future holds for all of God’s children.

I have in my time at St Peters had the immense privilege of being told so many moving stories. The story of an Indian intensive care consultant who had become acutely stressed both by the demands of his work and  by the concern he had for  his sister’s health back in India. The story of a lonely and homesick doctor from Sri Lanka.  The story of a Polish Play Leader who found herself threatened and verbally abused by ignorant people in the lead up to Brexit. But alongside these the stories illustrated in photos such as those of the Indian doctor dressed in her exquisite wedding sari and wonderful photos of a Portuguese wedding between two staff. And then there are the stories of success, such as two superb doctors, one Syrian one Egyptian doctor, being appointed as consultants and always the stories that come with each new premature baby, each sick child in the paediatric ward and so, so much more. And one last example which meant so much to me was when I was asked to visit an Indian consultant and felt a very real sense of privilege in being welcomed by her and her family into their beautiful new home. An invitation I could never have dreamed of growing up as a child.

I know I have been incredibly blessed in my role as chaplain, but the greatest blessing has been to come to know so many of God’s children from around the world and to come to recognise all we have in common. Our Deanery here in the beauty of the Surrey Hills does not provide quite such a wealth of opportunities as I have been given but take the time and trouble to look beneath the surface and you will find huge and often surprising diversity and, if you are prepared to do so, a wealth of life stories to be listened to; stories to widen your knowledge and inspire a mutual exchange of love and care.  What I do pray is that as the world we live in seems to shrink, as  communities change and we become more multinational we all  learn to genuinely welcome all the opportunities we are given together with the efforts we make to grow in love as the united family of God who is not just ‘our’ Father but the Father of all, the Father to whom all this world’s children are called to make their prayers because surely that is what this world needs more than anything else right now.

I will end with this beautiful poem by Edwina Gateley which expresses so well all I have tried to say.

We share our stories - that’s all. We sat and listened to each other and heard the journeys of each soul. We sat in silence entering each one’s pain and sharing each one’s joy. We heard love’s longing and the lonely reachings - out for love and affirmation. We heard of dreams shattered and visions fled. Of hopes and laughter turned stale and dark. We felt the pain of isolation and the bitterness of death.

But in each brave and lonely story God’s gentle life broke through and we heard music in the darkness and smelt flowers in the void. We felt the budding of creation in the searching of each soul and discerned the beauty of God’s hand in each muddy, twisted path.

And God’s voice sang in each story, God’s life sprang from each death, our sharing became one story of a simple lonely search for life and hope and Oneness in a world which sobs for love. And we knew that in our sharing God’s voice with mighty breath was saying love each other and take each other’s hand.

For you are one though many and in each of you I live. So listen to my story and share my pain and death, Oh, listen to my story and rise and live with me.

Virginia Smith

Sunday 18 February, First Sunday in Lent
Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here.

9.00am Communion
Texts: Genesis 9: 8-17; 1 Peter 3:18 – 22
Who was Peter?
Let’s remind ourselves of the highs and lows of his life just briefly before we look at what he wrote.
His original name was Simon. Jesus re-named him Peter, or Cephas in Aramaic, meaning rock.
He was a poor, illiterate Galilean fisherman who Jesus called as his disciple; he jumped out of the boat to walk on water to follow Jesus, which was not altogether successful; he cut off a Roman soldiers ear to defend Jesus; he denied him three times before the crucifixion; he was a church leader and missionary after the resurrection and he was martyred upside down in Rome in the reign of Nero around the year 64.
So that, in a nutshell, was Peter – a rather impetuous, passionate and bull-headed man, a man of action and deep conviction.
And so to his letter. 
This is a pastoral letter to the five provinces in Asia Minor – now current day Turkey.
The Christians in these places were having a bit of a tough time of it. They were seen as a minority sect and as such were marginalised, rejected, misunderstood and verbally berated.
Peter writes to offer realistic encouragement and instruction as they attempt to remain faithful to Christ in these trying circumstances. 
He is trying to point to the higher purpose and calling of their lives as they struggle to maintain their faith.
But he does this in such a way that we might find hard to comprehend.
In our day we spend a lot of our time and money on being comfortable; in our surroundings – our houses, soft furnishings, heating, water, light. Our ease of movement; our cars, travel, good walking shoes. Our entertainment; theatre, internet access, television, concerts, and various forms of technology.
We have so much that distracts us from any sort of discomfort, let alone any suffering.
Industries have been built upon keeping us comfortable and avoiding pain at all costs – because we’re worth it! 
We avoid discomfort and suffering at all costs – I know I do.
Peter in his letter of encouragement and comfort to these marginalised Christians doesn’t once talk about avoidance or distraction – he instructs these men, women and children to lean into it, to accept it.
This is hard for us to understand – why wouldn’t they just want some help and distraction techniques? Some quick fix coping mechanisms?
It is uncomfortable for us perhaps to read that suffering and rejection is the way of Jesus, and as followers of Jesus we walk this path too.
If you look back over your life experiences – the highs and the lows – where do see that you really grew as a person – where did you learn resilience, perseverance and patience? Which parts of your life played a transformation role?
Was it the easy times or was it the hardest parts?
For me, as I track my faith journey, I notice that my greatest leaps came when I was utterly up against it.
Back in 2010 I was miserable. I had leaned way too much on quick fix strategies to change the way I felt, and it had made me thoroughly despondent, isolated and depressed.
So, through this gift of desperation I surrendered to God. He found me in my weakness, met me in my despair and slowly and gently bought me into the light and showed me a new way of being in the world. Through this suffering, admittedly of my own making, God began his work in me – and through my daily surrender to his love and wisdom, he continues to make me new.
Peter is pointing out to these rejected Christians the way of Jesus and the way of the cross – not as a place to dwell in despair and wallow in self-pity – but as a hopeful path to wait and walk in.
Jesus has shown us the way, given us the way to union with God. In completely surrendering to his Fathers will he has given us the blueprint to freedom and forgiveness.
Our lives will all have their ups and downs, their sufferings and their trials no matter how much time, effort and money we pour into them. But it is perhaps through the struggles that we are given the opportunity of growing and transforming the most.
If we lean into God and allow him to work in us, then we are truly following in the footsteps of Jesus.
Amen.
Let us pray:
As we enter into this season of Lent, help us to follow in the footsteps of your Son. Help us to reflect over our lives and see your hand and transforming love and grace as it guides and leads us nearer to you.
For your glory, amen.
Rev'd Kia

6.00pm Evensong

Texts:  Joel 2: 1-2, 12-17, Mark 1: 9-15

‘We are always called to move forward in our awareness and love of God.’  St Columbanus

 Cleaning my teeth the other day in my bathroom the thought suddenly struck me how different the products around me were compared to when I was a child.  And just for a start there was the fact that each and every day at any time I could turn on the hot tap and know that lovely often very hot water would gush out. Plus, the fact that being someone who loves her bath I could indulge myself every single night. Not so when I grew up. Hot water would depend on the state of the back boiler in the kitchen and baths were strictly regulated to at the most twice a week.  Then, instead of my delightfully  scented soap from shops like Moulton Brown, there would have been either Lux or, if we were lucky, that beautifully honey coloured Pears soap.  This said they may have been considerably cheaper, but they still made the most wonderful soap bubbles. I can’t remember the name of the shampoo for our once a week hair wash, but it would have been the same make with no boastful claims at their ability to make one’s hair silkier, softer or more voluminous and no conditioner to avoid the agony of combing through tangled hair. Similarly there would have been just one sort of toothpaste again making no claims as to just how gleaming white your teeth might be after brushing with it.  And for cleaning the bath it was again simply Gumption and as far as I know no other products available. I could go on, but I am sure you get the picture. There is no doubt that over the years our lives materially have become so much more comfortable and definitely more luxurious than when we were children. Although here I hasten to add that tragically this is not true of all families today in the UK and certainly not around the world. Food and fuel poverty are horribly real and soul destroying for many people.

Over the years we have undoubtedly improved the standard of our lives and become far far more materially centred but how much have we done to improve our relationship and our understanding of God? Has our faith continued to grow and mature or if we are completely honest is it still by and large a rather simple almost basic faith which has barely changed over the years? Have we, according to the words of Ephesians, been gradually but steadily strengthened and enriched in our inner being with power from the Spirit and come to know more and more of the love of Christ that surpasses all knowledge and thus filled with the gladness of God? A question I think we are all called upon to ponder carefully and answer honestly.

We are now in the early days of the season of Lent; a time traditionally given over to fasting, to cutting back, to living without things we really enjoy. Hence the choice of so many to give up on chocolate, cakes or alcohol or, as I have done in previous Lents, cheese which for a ‘cheeseaholic’ is hard.  All this is fine and indeed worthy, but I do wonder, in a sense, how much this helps to bring us closer to Christ as we accompany him on his own last journey to Jerusalem. Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it, which must now bear witness to his own death upon the cross? When we politely decline that proffered chocolate biscuit or glass of wine, do we feel that it has brought us nearer to Christ or does it make us feel smugly virtuous and if truth be told make the person offering feel just a little uncomfortable that they are not being ‘good’ like you?

Thus, I think the question for this evening is are we fasting simply to feel good about ourselves? Are we fasting in order to come to appreciate that it is not all the luxuries and material benefits of modern living that are important, many of which, if we were honest, we could manage without and actually find contentment in so doing. Or are we fasting in order to come closer to God, closer to understanding just what he did for us in sending his Son to live with us and to die for us? A Son who lived with not the riches of material possessions but always with the incomparable richness and blessing of God’s grace. In other words, in our token fasting, are we in effect rending our garments and not our hearts? What is it we really want to achieve this Lent? Is it to wake up on Easter morning and immediately begin an orgy of feasting of all the things from which we have abstained for those forty days and nights or is it to wake on Easter morning stripped of some of the clutter which has accumulated through our enslavement to material wealth and well-being  and, in our minds, go with the disciples, with Mary Magdalene and discover, like them, the now  empty tomb and to know, without a shadow of doubt, that Christ’s journey to Jerusalem ended not in tragedy but in the  accumulation of all the glory, the wonder and the mystery of the resurrection.

So, I would like to end this sermon using slightly modified words from the one I preached on Ash Wednesday. If we want the purpose of our Lenten journey to be truly that of rending our hearts, of finding that contentment in a simpler way of life should we be consciously thinking about the power of God’s love for us which led His Son to that cross, to that tortured death that we might be given life eternal though our flesh and blood bodies are consigned to be ashes, dust and earth? The love that is spoken of in the words ‘God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that all who believe in him should not perish but have everlasting life'.  Could we, perhaps, write out that sentence and spend maybe just five minutes every day of Lent contemplating just what it means to us, just what it reveals about a Love that is perfection, a love that is everlasting, a love that is non- judgemental, a love that is freely given to each and every one of us. 

I pray that for all of us this Lenten journey may not simply be a journey of abstinence, of simplicity, but in so many ways a journey when in Christ’s company we learn to appreciate and give heartfelt thanks for not only the benefits of our modern way of life but, far more importantly, to build upon and increase the wealth of our wonder and our faith in the glory and the mystery of God’s love  for us and in so doing help us to become a little less like sinners and a little more like saints. 

Now is the time to take his truth to heart and to be glad within the holy place that he himself has made in us, to start each day with him, abiding in his grace.                 
Malcolm Guite

Virginia Smith

Wednesday 14 February, Ash Wednesday, Benefice Service at St Marys Holmbury
Texts: Joel 2: 1-2, 12-17, John 8: 1-11

Like me you just may have wondered when did Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day clash before; the answer is just six years ago in 2018 but before that you have to go back to 1945. And looking ahead this clash will happen again in 2029 and then never again this century. And should you also wonder if Ash Wednesday has ever coincided with  a Leap Day the answer is that this will happen for the first time in the Church’s history in 2096 but I fear none of us will be around for that unique event.

I have advisedly used the word ‘clash’ as really Valentine’s Day celebrating lovers with its hearts, cards with often soppy words, red roses and even champagne are so at odds with the  penitential character of Ash Wednesday with its ashes proclaiming the inevitable return of our bodies to dust and ashes and calling upon us to recognise our sinfulness which over and over again has marred our relationships with others bringing pain and hurt in place of love.

So, what made you come here tonight when certainly for some of you it would have been far more fun to enjoy a candlelit supper and reminisce over shared delights? And even for those of us who are single for whatever reason coming out on a February evening to what must be regarded as a somewhat down-beat service is, in all honesty, not that attractive, but I’ll do my best with these words to help to make you think that coming here wasn’t such a bad choice and it is certainly not all about gloom and doom.

Ashes and hearts! Is there, can there be any connection? I think that  there can be. Recently I have conducted rather a lot of funerals which always contain those words of Committal ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ which starkly, brutally almost, paint the picture of the fate of our earthly bodies and this destructive fate we have no alternative to accept, unless of course we choose like the Egyptians or Lenin to be mummified.  But the sentence continues ‘in sure and certain hope to the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.’ Sure and Certain hope that death is not the end and that God’s love revealed in the life and death and resurrection of Christ prevails over death.  Sure and certain hope that nothing, not even death, can separate us from God’s love.

So, thinking about all this and of how we should use this time of Lenten pilgrimage. Should we just make it simple and opt to fast giving up our favourite treats such as that glass of wine or that chocolate? Or maybe some more serious reading using one of the many Lent books which are available? Or, in the light of this day’s clash of hearts and ashes, try to spend time consciously thinking about the power of God’s love for us which led His Son to that cross, to that tortured death that we might be given life eternal though our flesh and blood bodies are consigned to be ashes, dust and earth. The love that is spoken of in the words ‘God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that all who believe in him should not perish but have everlasting life'.  Could we perhaps write out that sentence and spend maybe just five minutes every day of Lent contemplating just what it means to us, just what it reveals about a Love that is perfection, a Love that is everlasting, a Love that is non- judgemental, a Love that is freely given to each and every one of us. A Love shown most specifically to those who sin, which of course is every human who has ever been, as testified by the loving forgiveness shown by Jesus to the woman caught in adultery and his words to those who showed no such forgiveness: ‘Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw the stone at her.’  An immaculate love articulated in these words of Samuel Crossman: ‘My song is love unknown, my Saviour’s love for me, love to the loveless shown that they might lovely be. O who am I. that for my sake, my Lord should take frail flesh and die?'

Yes, just who am I, Virginia Smith a flawed and very imperfect person that God should consider it not simply worthwhile but essential to send His own Son to take frail flesh and die for me and for you and for all the millions and millions like us who are such a complex mixture of earthly desires and weaknesses. Absolute Love given to us that we too might become more lovely in our own love for others heeding that commandment given by Jesus to his disciples: ‘This is my commandment that you love one another as I have loved you.’ But most of all the love we try, albeit often far too feebly, to share with God Himself. And in recognising all this maybe we could end our time of quiet contemplation with more of Crossman’s words: ‘Here might I stay and sing, no story so divine; never was love, dear King, never was grief like thine. This is my friend in whose sweet praise I all my days could gladly spend'.

It may be Valentine’s Day but it is also on this Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent; a day to recognise just what perfect love is and what it has done for us so that even as our earthly bodies are committed to become dust and ashes with sure and certain hope we may rise in God’s time to the life eternal.

Virginia Smith

Sunday 11 February, Sixth of Epiphany
Text: Luke 2 22-40

I’d like to begin with a confession.
I am really inpatient.
Mainly with myself. When I was about 5 we were given the opportunity at school of taking up a musical instrument, and much to the delight of my parents, I chose the violin. I persevered for about 6 months – religiously practicing most days – but when it became clear I was not going to get a scholarship with Yehudi Menuhin I gave it up! 
I expected to be brilliant straight away.
This became a bit of a pattern throughout my early life – I’d try a hundred and one things, and if I wasn’t spectacular at them instantly, I’d give up. I learnt resilience later in life! But the root of this was simply impatience.
Our current culture suits my character defect rather well.
Our attention spans have rapidly reduced – if we can’t get what we need on a sound bite, or a ten-minute TED talk we lose interest. Even podcasts don’t help – we probably listen to podcasts when we are multi-tasking – driving, walking the dogs, cleaning or ironing – we rarely give our full, undivided attention to anything – well we wouldn’t want to waste our time would we?
So when I was reflecting on the gospel reading this week, what jumped out at me was the man Simeon, a man not mentioned before or after this encounter. What struck me was his character, his faith, his trust but most of all his patience.
I think I have a lot to learn from him!
It was Verses 25 that stopped me in my tracks,
“Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel.”
This was a glass half full chap. He wasn’t lamenting – as quite a lot of biblical characters seem to – he was full of hope, of expectation – of trust. He knew the consolation, the comforting, the restoring, of Israel was on it’s way – it was just a question of when.
It is so easy to fall into the trap of despair. We do today; the world has never been in such a terrible state, the poverty, the pain, the suffering. It can look bleak out there. With this mindset everything looks dark and the light seems to fade. Hope is squeezed out.
A friend of mine shared an acronym for hope with me this week which resonated – Hold On Pain Ends.
But I wonder what Simeon would say to us today? Where is our hope placed? Pain does end and those of us with a faith can trust in a God who has the bigger picture, who offers us glimmers of light in the darkness.
So Simeon was a glass half full guy, full of hope, of trust, of expectation – perhaps because he was righteous – right with God, and devout.
God gave him the strength and the vision to see the world this way. Amidst the chaos and the confusion of what he could see, Simeon waited patiently for God to reveal the Messiah. He waited in the darkness for the light.
We have yearly seasons that speak of this; as we emerge from the cold, long, dark winter nights of winter and begin to see the first signs of spring, but also in our lives. 
We have personal times of darkness and confusion as the world as we knew it stops making sense and we struggle to find our bearings. We may lose loved ones, our jobs, a relationship turns sour, the list goes on.
Simeon gives us hope. We can look at a man, content in his waiting, positive in his outlook, trusting in his God to lead him and guide him by the Spirit.
There is also a contentment and acceptance within him.
And as the Nunc Dimittus shows us Simeon could see the future of Jesus – he glimpsed his destiny – the highs and the lows of his life – and he also knew he would not witness them. It was enough that he had just seen him.
Simeon was content with the part that God had given him to play – he didn’t need to be there at the end. 
There is such humility in this, such acceptance of the fact that he was not in control. He trusted in a God who knows all things, sees all things and has the end worked out from the beginning. 
Simeon's job was just to recognise the Messiah and tell others the good news, not to work out all the details and see it through to its conclusion.
And so to us.
We too are messengers of hope, people to point to the light, to recognise the glimmers that sparkle in the darkness.
There is light and love all around us, perhaps, like Simeon, it is our responsibility to reflect this for others who are surrounded by darkness, hopelessness, and despair. 
We may never see the end game, the bigger picture but if, like Simeon, we are right with God, are in relationship with Jesus and are open to the guiding of the Holy Spirit, we too can be glass half full people; the people of God who can speak of the hope, contentment and expectation that is found in union with each other and with a power greater than us who we call Father.
Let us pray,
Father, help us to be rooted and grounded in you. Hold us firm within our world, give us eyes to see the light of your love in all whom we meet so we can speak with confidence of the hope you have placed within us. Increase our trust and faith in you and give us patience so we can wait on you with hope and expectation.
In Jesus name we pray,
Amen.
Rev'd Kia

Sunday 4 February, Fifth Sunday of Epiphany
Texts: Psalm104: 26-end. John 1: 1-14

Has it, I wonder, ever struck you of the parallels between the first chapter of Genesis and the first chapter of St John’s Gospel which is our lectionary reading for today? A reading most commonly associated with Christmas Day but here on the second Sunday before the start of Lent we have it again.  So back to my question and for me the answer has to be that the connection is   ‘word’ and ‘light’. In Genesis we read that the creation of the world was spoken into being. Each wonderful miraculous stage occurred because God spoke beginning with the ringing command ‘Let there be light; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness.’  God spoke this tiny seemingly insignificant planet into being within the vastness of the universe and each miraculous part has the power to communicate back to us something of the awe and wonder that is God.  God who is The Word, the unparalleled communicator.

Compare the words of Genesis with those which open John’s gospel. ’In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being' What has come into being in him was life and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness , and the darkness did not overcome it.’  Jesus comes to us as the embodiment of the Word in order that He might communicate , above all else, the love of God for us and shed the light of that love out into the dark places of our world. Speech and light lie at the heart of all God does. The unfathomable God has the power to show us something of his nature through word and light; words which can create, words and indeed sounds  which can bring a greater understanding of God’s purposes for us and light that can dispel the darkness with which we have marred God’s world.

So, we too as humans have been given the power to communicate not just by word of mouth or by the written word but just as importantly by our body language and our gestures and even at times by the extraordinary power of telepathy.  But we also know, and indeed are becoming increasingly aware, that like us plants and animals can and do have a wide variety of means by which they also can communicate with each other. Plants and animals who like us were spoken into being by God.  Dolphins and sperm whales communicate with each other using clicks, whistles and indeed their own form of body language. Primates use vocalisations, visual cues and tactile gestures just as we do as well apparently olfactory signals, although not, I suspect, the scents of Chanel or Lynx. And one study has suggested that prairie dogs have the most advanced means of communication than any other animal species Trees we now know communicate in a variety of ways including sending electrical signals along their roots; the releasing of chemicals into the air and producing vibrations that can be felt by other trees and we think we are so clever; so far advanced compared to the natural world. 

And now we even have Artificial Intelligence to communicate with us and as I type these words I keep finding that AI is predicting what I want to type next which I find most aggravating. I’m a big girl I can do this by myself thank you AI. And just for interest I asked AI to write a meaningful sentence containing the words ‘Word’ and ‘Light’ and within seconds it came up with: 'The Light of the Word of Truth can illuminate even the darkest of paths’ which frankly rather stunned me. Maybe I should have let this amazingly powerful, seemingly at times omniscient tool, write the rest of this homily.  

But no because at least some of the time I have an even more powerful tool and that is the power of the holy Spirit to direct and guide me together with the hope that same Spirit will enlighten you in some way as you read or hear my words. Words that enlighten are surely what we seek as we struggle to make sense of a world that at times seems to become far darker, far more alien and more frightening. And it is surely then what we need to do, as my AI author wrote, is to look for the Light of the Word of Truth which can illuminate even the darkest of paths.

Where do we find such Light? And surely the answer has to be by looking for God’s word which can only be the Word of Truth. The Word of Truth found in both our reading of the Old and New Testaments but also in what the Celtic people called the Primary Scriptures which they understood to mean God speaking to us through our senses and our hearts. Senses that can read and be enlightened by the wonders of God’s creation spoken into being. Senses that can perhaps be taught to hear something of  the words of animals and plants Just reread today’s psalm and recognise the author using his senses as he speaks of some of the wonders of God’s creation and responds as surely we should with  the words ‘I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God while I have my being.’  So, too, our hearts can be enlightened and even made radiant by our communication with others, be it verbal or nonverbal.  And in such a use of the primary Scriptures we can be shown a fraction more of the Truth that is God. The ultimate, unchangeable Truth that cannot be manipulated by man- made fake news or by AI but which proclaims the unalterable, unfathomable wonder that is God and of His Son who came to reveal the Word of Light to our world.

At our baptisms we were commanded to ‘shine as lights in the world’ and maybe we should remind ourselves of this instruction more often and resolve first to read more of those God revealing Primary Scriptures  that God spoke into being and then to shine the light of Christ’s gospel into all those dark places by sharing the words and gestures of love, of compassion, of consolation and even guidance, the words of truth which are the words that proclaim the reality of the living God who spoke our world into being; spoke His own Son to become the life that is the light of all people.

I would like to end with these words of Dag Hammarskjold:  ‘God does not die on the day when we cease to believe in a personal deity, but we die on the day when our lives cease to be illumined by the steady radiance, renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.’

Virginia Smith

Sunday 28 January Fourth Sunday of Epiphany
Today is a Benefice Service held at St Mary's Holmwood, marking David Grundy's retirement. The sermon is David's.

There was once a vicar who was just retiring from a rural parish and the churchwarden said to him “I’m right sad you’re going, Vicar. It won’t be the same with you gone”. The Vicar….you’ll find somebody else…
“But he won’t be as good as you, Vicar”.  “Nonsense, I’m sure you’ll find someone excellent”
“No, but he won’t be as good as you, I’m sure of that”     “How can you say that ?”
“Because I’ve been churchwarden here under 5 vicars and each one was worse than the one before”

The last few weeks, I’ve realised just how much there is to love in these communities: a wonderful mix of people, some amazing countryside.  
And in these churches too, I’ve worked with some excellent people:
The church officers in these two parishes, churchwardens (Francis, Debbie, James, Rosemary, but also Anne Rodell), also treasurers, you are the most capable and dedicated group of church officers I have ever had the privilege to work with. And you, administrator Becky Brown, are a legend. 
The ministry team I’ve worked with:
- Hugh Skeil, I’ve worked with you a short time, you don’t just have a servant spirit but you also have  a reverence for Scripture that has been a much needed addition to these parishes.
And Kia, most clergy either tend to be more task oriented or more people oriented. You have that balance of task and people better than any other priest I know. 
Martha and Virginia, I’ve worked with for longer. 
Martha, you have a way with words and an ability to think outside the box that make your sermons really quite unique. And you remain humble, self-effacing and ever willing.
Virginia, you have a wonderful heart for people, a great combination of gentleness, kindness and toughness that make you a great friend and pastor to many. 
And Judith, thank you so much for having stepped up to the plate several times and led some wonderful services.  

So,….I chose the reading of the feeding of the 5,000, because it’s played a special role in life. Judith and I used to work in north west London, in an area where we heard either a police siren or an ambulance siren every day; the gents hairdressers 50 yards down the road was the target of a major police drugs raid: the church was a vast, freezing old Victorian building with dwindling reserves. The congregation about 25 lovely West Indian folk, who never wanted leadership roles and invariably turned up late for everything. And after about 3 months, I realised the problem. They just didn’t have the resources: of skills or of money.  Having arrived at this conclusion, I went home that evening and said to Judith, ‘I’ve realised what it is, darling. We just don’t have the resources.’ It became my mantra and I mentioned it to several people. 

The next day, we had a sort of ‘Bishop gathering all his clergy’ day. And he was preaching on the loaves and fishes miracle, and he suddenly stopped, looked over the lectern and said “Don’t any of you ever say – I just don’t have the resources”. He even took the word JUST. I sank lower in my chair, hoped he wouldn’t catch my eye, and had an eerie feeling the good Lord was quietly laughing at me. I’m pleased to say that that church is now in a good place. What a faithless idiot I was ! 

I think there are 2 encouragements in this extraordinary event: incidentally, I do think it happened, not least because it’s recorded in all 4 gospels, and while John in particular has lots of symbolic meaning in his writing, Mark just tells a simple no frills attached story of what he saw. But whether you believe it literally or not, there is timeless meaning. 

The first encouragement is one that we may never have thought of: that is, that Jesus really didn’t really want to be there. He’d gone across the lake with the precise aim of getting away from the crowds, having some down time, and some time with just his close disciples. 

It really didn’t work. Jesus may have gone across in a boat, but the crowds decided that an 8 mile walk round the edge of the lake was perfectly in order. They weren’t going to leave him alone.  Jesus’ plan had gone completely wrong. 

And that is a very good thing to remember for those of us capable folk with control freak tendencies. When we find ourselves in a place that we certainly had not intended to be, and feel highly frustrated by the fact our plans have been derailed, it does not for one moment mean that God has left the stage. It was precisely when Jesus’ plan had gone wrong that this most remarkable of the miracles happened.  

We really didn’t want to be in lockdown. Yet on peak Sundays we had, between Holmbury and Wotton, about 100 people accessing at least parts of the online services. It wasn’t a place we wanted to be, but good things happened. I imagine there will be some people here very much not wanting a vacancy. Jesus didn’t want to have 5,000 people to feed. But it was the derailing of his plans that were the setting for this amazing event.  

Finally, maybe the most important message. I’d like us to imagine a diary entry written that evening by the little boy with the 5 loaves and 2 fishes: 
“When I saw what Mum had packed for my lunch, I was really cross with her. Why does she always put in barley bread ? Everyone knows that only poor people or animals have barley bread. Some of my friends have real wheat bread. But I never do.”

Jesus took not just a paltry amount, but also rather basic food – Judith and I went into a German bakery when staying with our son, a bakery that had won German bakery of the year award, amazing experience and atmosphere; well, 1st century Galilean bread was the other end of the spectrum. It really was the poor man’s bread. Jesus was never overly fussy about the materials or people he worked with. All they had to be was willing. I have no idea whether Jesus winked at the boy and said, do you want to help me feed all these people, because between us we can do it. But I am sure that when we realise that whoever we are, our gifts, paltry or otherwise, can make far more difference than we think, that we’re more willing to give.  To phone the person who’s not in a great place, to give to the Food bank, to have a go at helping out. So don’t hold back. Whether you are barley bread or prize-winning German bakery bread makes little difference to Jesus. All he wants is for you and me, wherever we are,  to be willing to share it. And he has a great knack of making it into something bigger and greater. 

David Gundry
In Rev'd Kia's weekly message to her parishioners she wrote : It has been a joy to serve alongside David since my time here; a man full of joy, wit and love for God – we will miss him!

We all wish David and Judith good health and contentment in their retirement, and thank them both for all they have done for David's parishes and for the whole Leith Hill Benefice over the years they have been with us.

Sunday 21 January, Third Sunday of Epiphany
Being a third Sunday, we have two services - 9.00am Communion and 6.00pm Evensong - with two sermons, both of which are published here

9.00am Communion
Texts: Psalm 128, John 2: 1-11
I am sure everyone has a favourite story of when things went wrong at a wedding. My favourite story I’ve heard of is of a bride called Christine who stepped on the hem of her wedding dress at the beginning of the service – and all the fastenings on the back of her dress popped out. To her eternal credit, Christine laughed, the organist kept playing and Christine’s mum came up with safety pins to do a repair job.
Disaster was averted!
When Jesus joined the wedding feast at Cana things were about to go very wrong. 
Now, we should understand that weddings in Jesus’ time were different to such events today. For example, weddings usually lasted a week and everyone in the village would be invited. 
For family reputation and honour it was vital that the host was seen to be a good and generous host. Yet here the wine was running out! This was a socially disastrous! Yet into this situation Jesus steps in and John says this first miracle “revealed his glory”.
But here is a question: Saving people from social embarrassment is compassionate - but how does it show God’s glory? Wouldn’t we prefer the first miracle to be something magnificent that met a basic human need – like raising the dead or feeding the hungry? 
We know that John arranges his Gospel around seven signs (The Greek word is “semeon” – from which we get semaphore.) These signs are signposts in the Gospel indicating that we should look for more than just a surface meaning. In which case, what is that meaning in this miracle? 
I want to suggest three reasons why this miracle reveals God’s glory and I also suggest that these three aspects of Christ’s ministry indicate the way God usually works with us. So what we see in this story is the modus operandi of God – the way God works today. 
1. GLORY IN THE ORDINARY 
Seeds of this idea are seen in the first chapter of John where we are told “In beginning was the Word..” but then (in vs 14) we are told “The word became flesh” (Gk sarx) This is a very coarse, unflattering, earthy, ordinary word.
This phrase the “word became flesh”, in a sense, sums up the Christmas story. John doesn’t have a Birth Narrative as do Matthew and Luke – instead he says “the word became flesh”. 
Yes Jesus was not born in a palace, the usual place of humans with royal blood, he does not have a proverbial “silver spoon” in his mouth. Instead he is born in a stable, his human parents are humble working folk – and there is more of a whiff of shame in that rumour of his illegitimate birth! There is not much glory here!
So this first miracle shows the way God so often works – through the ordinary and unspectacular.
After all, the place, Cana, is an obscure, ordinary village an afternoon’s walk out of Nazareth. 
The circumstance of the miracle is something haphazard and ordinary - that is caused by bad planning. 
Yet in that ordinary place and in that ordinary circumstance Jesus comes and makes a difference. 
That means that Jesus comes in the ordinary every-day aspects of our lives today. He comes in the ordinary joys. Jesus came to the fun and festivity of this wedding in Cana.
He would have drunk the wine and had a dance. So we can say that in our ordinary fun Jesus is there – and that it is right for us to celebrate and know pleasure and joy in our lives. 
C H Spurgeon once wrote: ‘I commend cheerfulness to all who would win souls. More flies are caught by honey than with vinegar'. He tells Christians to cheer up!
But Jesus also comes to us in our ordinary troubles. If Jesus helped in the context of a social gaff when the wine ran out - we can expect him to help in our social and domestic needs. There is nothing too small for him to care about – whether it is health issues, work problems or concerns about bringing up our children.
God is the God of surprises, because so often we meet him in very ordinary things. 
2. GLORY IN THE TRANSFORMATION
This is an obvious theme because, Jesus transformed water into wine. It was a “creative act”: The whole process of wine making (planting, growing, ripening, harvesting, pressing) was squeezed into a moment. It is the ultimate picture of transformation! It is not the work of a magician – but the work of a Creator God.
But that’s just surface meaning. Remember “Signs’ are signposts to a deeper meaning! 
John says the transformation took place within pots used for ceremonial cleaning. The Jews were always washing hands - before a meal and between each course. They washed with their hands down, then with their hands up! Their religion demanded outward rituals which were onerous, tedious and empty. 
So Jesus gives a signal (or sign) of the transformation his ministry will bring. Some things will be made obsolete, some things will be made new. After all, the stone jars can no longer be used for ritual cleaning! They are filled with wine and useless for washing. They are obsolete in Jesus’ kingdom! More than that, the wine was God’s amazing gift of grace – and it has nothing to do with human effort or ritual. It is sign of the kingdom and its newness.
Jesus was therefore demonstrating his glory in transformation reality. We don’t have to “DO”rituals to be Right with God. He does it all for us - it is a gift, just as this wine was a gift. 
All this hints at what God is going to do through Jesus. Through Jesus’ work on the cross we are accepted as righteous; we can’t add our own righteousness or any rituals. Jesus has done it all for us. 
Bill Hybels contrasts 2 approaches to religion: It is either “Do” or “Done”! Some people might think of all the things they must DO to make themselves right with God. But this miracle is a signpost that shows God’s glory – of transforming religion from Do… to Done.
As you take wine this morning say “It’s Done”! Jesus has taken my sin and has given me new life as a gift – rather like that wine!
3. GLORY IN THE ABUNDANCE 
John tells us a minute detail – for a special reason. He tells us that these six stone water jars held 20-30 gallons. So that means there must have been at least 150 gallons of wine! Enough for a wedding but also enough to provide a cellar for “newly-weds; a cellar that would last many anniversaries and many christenings. That is an abundance of wine!
But there is more than that. This wine is not cheap plonk! It is not Tesco or Sainsbury’s “basic” at £3.99! 
This is the best of the best of the best. The steward says, “Everyone brings out the choice wines first and then when the guests have drunk too much he brings out the cheaper wines. But you have saved the best till now”.
Here is quality and quantity! We can see hints of what is called the “Messianic Banquet” of heaven. 
This is a great OT theme, but also a motif that Jesus repeated. 
The Bible says: “Things beyond our seeing, things beyond our imagining, things beyond our hearing … have all been prepared by God for those who love him”. In other words, this life isn’t all we have … The best he has kept for us. When I see the sorrow in this world, I encourage myself by remembering the best is still in store for us.
Here’s a miracle of abundance – and that shows God’s glory. Indeed, it would be right to say that God’s generosity is his most glorious attribute. The great theologian J I Packer comments, “Generosity is the focal point of God’s moral perfection; ALL God’s other excellencies are concentrated in this…”
Paul wants us to see this generous heart of God and so he says God works in ways “above all we can imagine or ask” (Eph 3)… so he prays that we know "the height and length and breadth of the love of Christ”. Jesus himself speaks of our generous God giving to us - "pressed down, shaken together, running over.."
That is Jesus’ picture of a generous God “Pressed down, shaken together, running over”. 150 gallons of wine is mega, mega abundance. It’s a sign of the way God acts. He is generous. He is Gracious. He is glorious.
Unfortunately, it is in our fallen nature to doubt this. The very first sin in Eden was a doubt about the generosity and goodness of God. So some might think, “God can’t work in ordinary me! He can’t transform me. I can’t know abundance. It is all too fantastic!"
I am reminded that when Marco Polo (the 13th Cent Venetian explorer) returned from China – no one believed his fabulous stories. When he lay dying his friends urged him to retract his stories. But he said, “I haven’t told you the half of what I have seen”.
The Bible says, “Things beyond our seeing, things beyond imagining, things beyond our hearing have been prepared by God for those who love him”.
As we start a New Year, in the very ordinary things of life we need to know this is the way God works. God is in the business of taking ordinary things and ordinary people – and transforming them so we can know abundance.
Amen.
Rev'd Kia

6.00pm Evensong
Text : John 2:1-11           
Hydrogen and Oxygen in their natural state both gases but combine the two together in the correct ratio of two to one and you have water. Two atoms of hydrogen, one of oxygen to form a molecule of water. Life giving water which if we did not have this miracle combination would mean that nothing on this planet would exist. Nothing would be green and grow; this planet, like all the others in our solar system, would be simply dead matter. Water, which is the essence of life, water which has the power to change and transform; to turn the ordinary into the extra-ordinary; to change the plain and simple into the richness which abounds throughout God’s creation. Water, which comprises some sixty per cent of our human bodies. The reading from St John’s gospel gives us the account of Jesus’s first miracle performed at that wedding in Cana but now I would like to give a short meditation on the miracles which we can see for ourselves every day if our sense are open to them.  Senses that will confirm these words of David Adam that ‘all of creation contains mystery if we look deep enough, if we look long enough and within our heart God’s glory is waiting to be found in even the smallest of things.’ Senses that I hope will confirm us as what was once described to me as rainbow people; those people who would actually draw to a halt and stop anything they might be doing just to wonder at the sheer beauty of a rainbow and in that wonder give thanks to the glory of God the Creator, the Master Artist  of all things. 

Think of the wonder of our seas and oceans where sometimes the water is placid. Calmly lapping the shore, reflecting a heavenly blue with shimmering, dancing flecks of sunlight cavorting on the gentle swell of the sea or reflecting in glorious gold the rays of a setting sun. Think of those same masses of water tossed and turbulent, interminably hurling magnificently powered white crested waves to come crashing down upon the shore before noisily retreating across the shingle to garner yet more energy to build up another assault on the battered shore.  

Think too of a tumbling waterfall, an entire translucent sheet of water endlessly cascading  in spumescent foam into the pools below. Think too of pools of tranquillity generously reflecting in their depths a perfect mirror image of all the natural world that surrounds them; pools of tranquillity when, if you simply sit and drink in this gift of beauty, one can also be given the blessing of silence.

Think of puddles not as a nuisance, an impediment to our often too rushed, too thoughtless progress, but somewhere little children, or any of us who remain a child at heart, can delight in; jumping gleefully, making as big a splash as possible and going home happily soaked not just in water but also the innocence of childhood  

Think of the infinitely changing sky as clouds of water vapour draw their own designs on the vastness of the celestial canvas.  Designs not even the most gifted artist could ever aspire to emulate.  Towering clouds of white cotton wool making their stately way across the canvas sometimes at dawn or sunset magnificently rimmed with pink or gold. Wispy featherlike clouds reminding one of quill pens writing their own poetry over that canvas. Sometimes just a skyscape filled with little powder puffs joyfully chasing each other.in a game of cloud tag. And of course, the dark louring rain clouds ready to bring that life giving water down upon the welcoming earth; sometimes in stair rods, sometimes in a gentle drizzle.

Think of the miracle of snowflakes each and every one unique just as we are all unique. Glistening flakes of purest white which need a microscope to reveal the intricate beauty each possesses.  Think too of the entire landscape painted with a delicate blanket of hoar frost outlining every tree, bush and blade of grass. And never forget individual drops of water perhaps caught on a glistening leaf catching the sunlight to be transformed into a perfect  rainbow globe.  

And then there is the water with which we are blessed as it comes pure and cold from our taps; a blessing denied to so many millions in this world. Water to quench our thirst on a hot day; water to be boiled for a refreshing cup of tea; water to bath in, enjoying the sense of warmth, of comfort and of   cleansing our bodies; or the wake-up cold shower revitalising, stimulating slugged sleep filled bodies.

Water that once a week I give the azalea that sits on my bedroom windowsill and in return for that simple refreshment over and over again  rewards me with the purest white of its tissue thin flower petals so that seeing them I can yet again give my morning  thanks to God for His goodness, His glory, all the infinite  wonder of His Creation and of the love in which he holds  both it and us ,

And most important of all the water of baptism which miraculously has the sacramental power to clothe us in the incomparable robes which are the love of Christ and confirms us as God’s very own adopted children, His family. 

One atom of oxygen, two of hydrogen and all these wonders are there for us to reveal something of the glory, the beauty, the awe which is God.

I would like to end with these prayerful words I always use when blessing a baby: ‘Welcome to the blessings of water within you and around you. May the water of life spring up in your soul. and moisten your heart as you green and grow. And so may you be granted of sensing all through your life’s pilgrimage the miracle of water turned by Christ’s grace and love to the richest wine'.

The Gift of Wonder by David Adam 
God, give me the gift of wonder,
That rather than seek for more wonders,
I see the extraordinary,
In that which is called ordinary.
May I be aware of you indwelling in all things
And your presence in every one I meet.
Lord, be a light to my eyes, my mind, my heart,
That I may live in a wonder-full world,
And seek and radiate your glory

Virginia Smith

Sunday 14 January, Iona Service
Text: Matthew 6: 5-8

How do we go about hearing God? Where do we start? What do we need to do? Where do we need to go to? How do I make sure I don’t miss what God is saying or showing me?
Ultimately, how do I find God in my everyday?
Our reading this morning is from Matthew chapter 6, verses 5-8 and then we will explore these questions.
Reflection
I’d like to start by telling you about one women’s experience of finding the sacred in the ordinary.
‘On a lovely sunny day I was ironing – not my favourite chore. I took some clothes to the airing cupboard and, as I re-entered the living room, I suddenly became aware of details I’d been oblivious to before: the sun was streaming in, my three cats were curled up asleep on the sofa. I also became aware of a feeling of very deep peace within the room. The feeling was so strong it felt almost tangible and within my heart leapt with joy. I knew the Lord was here. I savoured this atmosphere of peace and joy for a few minutes as I continued ironing. I’ve often reflected on the unexpected gift of that golden afternoon. Why was I so surprised to meet the Lord in my home whilst doing the ironing? 
The quotes -‘God is in all things’ and ‘the sacrament of the present moment’ trip glibly off my tongue but now I realise I rarely live out those ideals.
I rarely look for the mystery in the mundane, or the sacred in my day-to day life, yet the Lord is as likely to come visiting while I’m washing the dishes or typing as he is while I’m in church or reading a spiritual book.
That golden afternoon taught me how much my spiritual eyes need to be washed clean so I can see into the depths of my ordinary life and see the treasures there.
If I practice greater awareness I might, some day, appreciate in my heart that God is truly all things: I may be able to reverence the sacrament of each moment.
Although regular times of prayer and devotion are hugely important – God will break through and interrupt our everyday if we are open and have eyes to see.
By having regular ‘God time’ in our day our hearts and spiritual eyes are more likely to be receptive to the unexpected arrival of od in our midst.
It’s a discipline and takes effort and commitment to carve out the time – I fail often – but it is so worth persevering with!
Jesus often took himself away to be with his Father – up mountains, in boats, walking in gardens. If he needed to do this – how much more do we?
There are many daily readings, daily reflections and spiritual books out there to help us to pause each day – I have some with me if you would like to see them afterwards – there are many more.
I’d like to share one with you from a book called ‘In the presence of Jesus’. I find it particularly powerful because it is written in the first person – like God is speaking directly to you. I’ll read it, then we will have a few moments of stillness so God has the chance to connect with us, and then end with a prayer.
Today, I want to remind you of your truest story. I want you to remember what it really means to be human.
You see, at the beginning of the world, we walked and talked together during the cool of the day. In the silence of the Garden of Eden, we simply relished each other’s company. And you were beginning to discover the joy of living and to recognise the goodness of the natural world all around you. Everything that was Mine was truly yours, and none of your needs would ever go unmet.
But then, you chose to stop trusting Me to care for you. When I came to talk, you ran away and hid from me. You became consumed with what you thought was best for you, what you needed to own or accomplish, how you needed to look or talk, what you needed to conquer in order to find joy and fulfilment.
And then, as the years went by, you filled your world with just enough noise to distract you from My voice. You created a distance between us that broke My heart.
Let me remind you about the story that is so much greater than your choice to go and hide from Me in your sin and shame.
Since the very moment that you decided on this great estrangement, I began working to bring your heart back to Me. From that day, I set in motion My divine conspiracy to return you to the silence and intimacy of our walks together in Eden.
I have longed for you to once again rest in My love.
It is now time for you to let go of all the things you have used to separate us. I challenge you this day to truly understand that I have already forgiven you for everything. When you ran from My love, I chased after you all the way to the cross. I sacrificed everything so that we could be together again.
Remember my words? “It is finished!”
The only thing that can keep you from My love, is you.
I long for you to rediscover how deeply I want to be with you and once again trust that I am better than anything this world has to offer.
I wasn’t you to remember how we lived in joyful communion in the sanctuary of Eden, before the world of artificial noise and chaos distracted you.
My creation was good.
Your life was good.
You were good.
My deepest desire is to restore that heart to heart connection between us. I want you to intimately experience Me, moment by moment, in the goodness of the Holy now.
And so, My child, come to Me this very moment to rediscover the quiet of the Garden, where your heart is no longer separated from My presence…… where you can once again hear my voice.
Stillness
Prayer
Lord Jesus, walk with me today in the silence of the Garden and help me to hear your voice. Forgive me for not fully trusting you and for disobeying you time and time again. Reassure me of your unconditional love and forgiveness in the moments that I want to hide from you. Help me to find joy and contentment in your presence. Amen.
Rev' Kia

Sunday 7 January, Epiphany


Texts: Isaiah 60; !-6,  Matthew 2: 1-12

On Christmas Eve I took a Crib service at St Martin’s which like all such services was truly a joy, with a full church and lots of lovely traditional carols to sing as well, of course, a telling of the nativity story with each act of that story adding more figures to the crib scene. However, as we organised ourselves beforehand, we discovered that the figures of the three kings, or magi as the Bible calls them, were missing; they had definitely gone AWOL. It didn’t matter too much as I could easily explain to my audience that they were still on their travels and had not as yet made it as far as Dorking no doubt on account of some form of seasonal  travel disruption be it flooded tunnels, fallen trees or simply a camel jam somewhere on the M25!

The three kings, the magi, intrinsic characters of the nativity story both mysteriously exotic visitors coming from the fabled lands of the east and far more importantly symbolic participants in the nativity story as, indeed, were those other visitors to the manger, the shepherds. The shepherds represented the outcasts of Jewish society; the outcasts who would always find themselves embraced and accepted by Jesus who was more than happy to eat in their houses and to bring his healing touch to such shunned people as lepers. While the magi represented the Gentiles, the non-Jews who were so often despised and also shunned by the Jews themselves, regarded as unclean in matters of ritual and far  more significantly in their eyes, not God’s chosen people.

And yet in that beautiful Isaiah prophesy we hear these wonderful and uplifting words ‘the Lord will rise upon you; and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn’ It is all part of the mystery and sheer wonder of the incarnation that we learn that we are all chosen people; we are all, be we Jew or Gentile, God’s adopted children and no one is excluded; no one considered unfit; no one considered an outcast or unclean.  And, of course, whoever we are we are all called like the shepherds and the magi to journey to that stable and know the reality of the incarnate Christ, the Light of the World.

‘Nations shall come to your light’ is, if nothing else, a reminder that since the dawn of civilisation the human race has always shown an almost irresistible urge to travel, sometimes to make new discoveries that are an intrinsic part of  the unlimited  wonder of God’s world, sometimes to escape war, famine or some form of hardship and sometimes like the  three Irishmen who set off in their coracle with no oars and landed up in Cornwall. When asked by no less a personage than King Alfred why they had made such a journey their reply was ‘We stole away because we wanted for the love of God to be on pilgrimage, we cared not where.’  

Even a cursory knowledge of the Bible will confirm that it is full of stories of people travelling, either by their own volition, by force or circumstance or, in some cases, in response to God’s call. Think of Abraham who was commanded by God to leave all he knew and travel hundreds of miles to the unknown land God had chosen for him. The land that now tragically is being torn apart and violated by war leaving literally millions no alternative but to travel they know not where to find some sort of safety, food and shelter.  Then there were the brothers of Joseph who sought relief from the famine that had struck that chosen homeland by travelling to Egypt seeking food and thus were reunited with the brother whom they had so cruelly maltreated. And, as a consequence, they were invited to leave Canaan and settle there with all their family.  Settled until the Egyptians, fearful of their growing numbers, enslaved them before Moses, again responding to God’s command, led them on a new journey to freedom. 

And turning to the New Testament we have an account of the amazing travels of Saint Paul who was called to take the good news of Christ, the Light of Christ, to the Gentiles. A mission that is estimated to have covered over ten thousand miles mostly on foot. Journeys that led to the early beginnings of the newborn Christian faith and which have resulted in the building of this church of Coldharbour and our presence here this morning.

For each and every one of us, our life is a journey; a journey which will include actual miles of travel but also a spiritual journey as, like those shepherds, those magi, we seek the incarnate God. Wyn Beynon writes this ‘Deep in every person there is a restlessness which makes us look beyond the here and now and long for something else, something different, something new. We may not know it, but this is our longing for God, our longing to go home.’ Home to the very presence of God, be it in that stable in Bethlehem, be it as we look up at the cross or within our own homes and hearts. Again, Beynon writes this: ‘For God is not elsewhere but closer to us than we are to ourselves. We are always home, but we cannot believe it.’ So too David Adam writes; ‘Open your mind to that reality that God is within you and about you. God is with you.’

Epiphany meaning a sudden revelation or insight into the nature, essence or meaning of something or put simply to have our eyes divinely opened to the truth of what we are seeing. The magi experienced such an opening of their eyes as they knelt in that poor valueless stable and realised that in front of them was no less than the most valuable and irreplaceable gift ever given. The gift of God’s own Son to this world and to all its people. Their long journey following that star had resulted in a radical understanding of God and His purposes for his children. On our journeys, both actual and spiritual, have we been led to have unforgettable moments when we, too, like the magi have been given, by God’s grace, a moment of Epiphany and our eyes have been opened to the truth of the reality of God, both  with us and within us. And here I note the words of an anonymous author: ‘Every day moments of Epiphany are bestowed on every one.’ Isn’t that just such a wonderful thought to hold onto on our pilgrimages. That and the reality that without a shadow of doubt God is and always will be within us and without us? Have we had moments, too, when we have been given the joy of witnessing something of God’s presence in others and sharing it with them, which is surely a moment of Epiphany? I pray that you have and I pray too that as you continue to live your life’s journey, that search for God that Beynon talks of, you will be blessed by the certain knowledge that it is God alone who is leading y

 Virginia Smith 

Other Words and Thoughts are on separate pages for :
- 2022
- Virginia Smith' Homilies May 2022-April 2021
- Virginia Smith' Homilies May 2021-August 2020