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.
2025
Sunday 17 April, first Sunday after Easter
Our service is a joint service with St James in Abinger.
Sunday 20 April - Easter Day!
Luke 24:1-12
I am always a bit relieved when our gospel reading for Easter is from St. Luke. He is the only one of the gospel writers to say, in verse 11, that the women’s news of Jesus’ being raised sounded to the apostles like “an idle tale”. Sightly offensive perhaps but an interesting thought. An idle tale.
I’ve done enough funerals and had enough friends and loved ones die that I get why it sounds like “an idle tale”. This story just doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit my experience with death and I expect it doesn’t fit with yours either. Something about it didn’t match the apostles’ experience either.
Sometimes it does seem like “an idle tale” sort of like looking at pictures of and hearing about somebody else’s summer holiday. You know what that’s like? Good for them, what about me? Good for Jesus, what about us? What good is it to us if Jesus has been raised and we are not?
I wonder, though, if we often misunderstand this story as being unique and exclusive just to Jesus. What if it was never intended to be primarily about Jesus? Maybe this story is as much or more about what is happening to us as it is what happened to Jesus.
I don’t know what happened that first Easter Day. I don’t know how whatever did happen happened. But I have come to believe that this story is less about explaining, understanding, making sense of, or even believing what happened that day, and more about experiencing what that day means for you and me today. So I’d like share three thoughts with you on what I think this story means for us.
• First, it means a promise. It promises a future. And “the force of the future is to prevent the present from closing in on us, from closing us up”. The promise means we can never say about our life, “This is it,” “This is all there is” or “This is how it will always be”. Our resurrection is not a future event, something yet to happen. It is a present and everyday reality that promises us a future and the chance that this moment will be transformed and changed.
• Second, it means we have hope. It means we have hope for our lives and the lives of those we love. We have hope for something absolutely new, a new birth, a new life. We have hope that our lives matter. It means we have hope in the midst of our doubts and uncertainties, despite the riskiness of life, and when nothing makes sense and the odds are against us. This hope means that we live with a great ‘perhaps’ and openness to the future. We hope against hope for the unexpected possibility of the impossible. After all Jesus did not die and rise for perfect people who had it all figured out. Jesus died and rose for the people who would betray Him, ignore His word, forget His promises, and doubt His messengers. Jesus died for the people who put Him to death. Jesus rose for the people whose minds rejected the idea of a resurrection.
• Third, it means a call. The resurrection is a calling on our lives. And this call awaits our response. We are being called to believe in life because life is precious beyond belief. We are being called to appreciate the opportunities of every moment given us and to neither waste nor take for granted a single one. We are being called to live more fully alive and take the risk that there is always more life awaiting us even when it is unimaginable, unforeseeable, and seemingly impossible. The resurrection is wooing and calling us into life, more life, a new life. It is God’s Yes to us and it asks us to answer, to act, to respond and take the beautiful risk of saying, “Yes”. Yes to life. Yes to more life. Yes to a new life.
A promise, a hope, and a call. That’s what our resurrected life looks like. So let us ponder this:
• What is the promise giving you today? In what ways is it opening up your life?
• What is your hope today, that deep hope against hope? What are you hoping for that seems too good to be true and against all odds?
• What is life calling for and asking from you today? What do you need to do or change in order to say yes?
I can’t answer those questions for you or tell you how you should answer. This is your resurrection. This is your Easter. This is your feast day. And that is true for every one of us here. Regardless of who you are, what you’ve done or not done, what has or has not happened in your life, what you believe or don’t believe, the promise remains, hope abides, and the call persists.
So, back to where we started. Is today’s story true or is it just “an idle tale”? I think that’s up to us. It is as true as we will let it be. Every time we claim the promise, hope against and hope, and say yes to life, this story is no longer just “an idle tale”. It becomes the truth of our lives, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, not because we can prove, understand, or explain it but because we are living it right here, right now.
I want to live this story. I want to do the truth of this story every day. I want to be the truth of this story. This is our day for a new life, for more life. And there is nothing holding us back. The tomb is empty and “he is not here, but has risen”. So let’s leave this place holding this truth in our hearts and let us claim the promise, hope against and hope, and say yes to life, let us seize the day.
Alleluia! Christ is risen.
Rev'd Kia
Sunday 13 April, Palm Sunday
Our Palm Sunday service is a joint service with St James in Abinger.
Sunday 6 April, Fifth in Lent
Texts: John 12:1-8, Philippians 3:4-14
The apostle Paul had every reason to be “confident in the flesh,” as he tells us in today’s second reading (Philippians 3:4-14). A proud member of the people of Israel, a Pharisee, a leader, respected by all, and a persecutor of the church. Until he met Jesus, in a vision on the road to Damascus. And that experience changed Paul’s life.
Whatever gains he had in this life, he came to regard as loss because of the “surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus.”
Nothing was more important to Paul than knowing Jesus, and serving him. And so, he devoted his life to sharing the gospel, to telling others about Jesus, even when that meant persecution. And he was persecuted. And ultimately killed, simply because of his Christian faith. But before he was killed, he was imprisoned. And from his prison cell, Paul wrote many of his letters, including one of his most beloved letters, his Letter to the Philippians, which we heard in our first reading.
Imagine, for a moment, being in a prison cell, simply because you are a Christian. And then, imagine being given a pen and paper. And an opportunity to write a letter to encourage other Christians. What would you write? How would you offer your fellow believers hope, and encouragement to remain steadfast in their faith?
Paul offers us an incredible example of that, and today’s passage in particular offers us a reminder of the hope and encouragement that comes only from the gospel. But this hope and encouragement are not what we might expect. Paul is not promising a better life if we follow Jesus. It might even be harder. Instead, Paul is reminding us that what really matters is found only in this life. It is found in the resurrection, in the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.
These words that Paul wrote are actually quite challenging to us. Paul writes that he counts “everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Phil. 3:8). He gave it all up, regarded it all as rubbish, so that he could “gain Christ and be found in him”.
Most of us, probably all of us, are not used to thinking in this way. We tend to think that what we have is pretty important. Not rubbish. And even in our good Christian moments, we tend not to think of everything as rubbish – we tend more often to regard everything as gift. We give thanks for our house, our family, our job, our health, our life, as a blessing from God. And well we should.
But Paul’s words still echo down to us through the centuries to place the question before us: Doesn’t our Lord want more? Doesn’t he want more than for us to give thanks for what we have? Doesn’t he want us to be so filled with love for Him that we are willing to count everything else as loss? Doesn’t he want more than simply our gratitude; more than our worship, more than our tithe, more than our daily prayers and devotions? Doesn’t he want our very selves?
Paul is not the only one in our readings today who challenges us with this question. There is also Mary, sister of Martha and Lazarus. Most of us remember Mary from another story about Mary and Martha, one told in Luke’s Gospel. The story about Martha getting angry with Mary when Martha is doing all the serving while Mary sits at Jesus’ feet. Martha seems to have a point, but Jesus tells her that Mary is the one who has chosen the better part! Maybe all that time sitting at Jesus’ feet helped Mary to understand what so few in the gospels do – that Jesus wants more from us than even our time, talents, or treasure: he wants our very selves.
Perhaps that is why Mary was able to do what she did in today’s gospel reading (John 12:1-8). This story takes place the evening before what we observe as Palm Sunday – Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. Jesus has stopped at his friends’ house for one last quiet evening, before entering Jerusalem and all that he knows will take place there. Lazarus, Martha, and Mary are dear to Jesus. Faithful, trusted friends. And so, Jesus goes to their house, to share a meal with them. Martha, as usual, is serving, while Lazarus is one of those at the table with Jesus. And then, seemingly out of the blue, Mary does something truly remarkable. She takes a pound of costly perfume, and pours it on Jesus’ feet, and wipes his feet with her hair. No words. Just this amazing, even shocking act. An act that defies understanding or explanation.
And in this act, Mary is showing Jesus that nothing matters to her more than the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus her Lord. Mary shows us, in this act of love, what Paul tells us in his Letter to the Philippians. You might think of her act as “show-and-tell” on how to be a Christian, on how to give ourselves to Jesus. He wants more from us, so much more. And Mary shows us what that means. By falling to her knees, and anointing Jesus’ feet with her costly perfume. Mary’s simple act shows us that Jesus wants more: He wants our very selves.
Judas, you remember, is the one who vocally challenges Mary’s act. Couldn’t she have sold the perfume and given the money to the poor? And yes, in truth, she could have. Just like – I suppose – we could sell this church and give the money to the poor. But Jesus wants more than for us just to help the poor – he wants us to worship him; he wants us to love him; he wants us to give our very selves to him.
Mary’s amazing act of love, Paul’s powerful words, remind us all that above and beyond everything is the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus our Lord. All else is but loss compared to this one thing.
Now, I don’t know about you, but when I hear about Mary’s beautiful deed, and when I read Paul’s powerful words, I can’t help but think – will that ever be me? Will I ever get there? Will I ever do something so amazing for Jesus as what Mary did on the eve of his entry into Jerusalem? Will I ever be able to say, as Paul once did, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord”? And mean it, from the bottom of my heart? In truth, I don’t know.
But Paul himself offers me encouragement from this passage when he goes on to say: “Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” Paul and Mary are both showing us the goal today. But even they would say they did not reach it in this lifetime. They are simply on the way. They are pressing on to this goal, because Christ Jesus has made them his own.
None of us are there yet. But we are on the way. If we have professed out faith in Jesus, Christ Jesus has made us his own. It is real. And it is complete. And nothing can take that away from us. But it is the beginning of our journey. We still have a goal; and we are called to press to make it our own, because Christ Jesus has already made us his own.
If you like theological words, you might think of the words “justification” and “sanctification.” In baptism, we have been justified – made right with God, through Jesus Christ. Period. But in baptism we have also been given the gift of the Holy Spirit, and made a part of a church community, so that we could grow in our faith. So that we could “press on toward the goal for the heavenly prize of God in Christ Jesus.” We won’t reach that goal until the last day. But “sanctification” describes the process that is taking place now. The process that began in our baptism, that takes place every day as we follow Jesus.
One of my favourite passages from Martin Luther is from a sermon of his where he reflects on this idea, almost in a poetic way. Here are his words:
This life is not a being holy but a becoming holy; it is not a being well but a getting well; it is not a being but a becoming; it not inactivity but practice.
As yet we are not what we ought to be, but we are getting there; the task is not as yet accomplished and completed, but it is in progress and pursuit.
The end has not been reached, but we are on the way that leads to it; as yet everything does not glow and sparkle, but everything is purifying itself.
(Martin Luther, What Luther Says, p. 235)
The end has not been reached by us, but we are on the way. We serve; we give; we pray; we sin and confess; we fall down and get up. We come to church to be fed and encouraged on the way. Yes, we are on the way. And one day, we hope to be able to say, from the depths of our heart, that compared to knowing Jesus, all else is but loss. In the meantime, we press on to the goal, knowing that our Lord and Saviour has already reached the goal on our behalf. We press on, as best we can, grateful to follow the one who promises to show us the way. We are not there yet, not what we ought to be. But thanks be to God, we are on the way.
Amen.
Rev'd Kia
Sunday 30 March, Mothering Sunday
True or False?
1. Mother's Day was invented after Christmas and before Easter by a Greetings Card Manufacturer in the early 1900's to sell more cards.
False. Mother's Day celebrations date back at least as far as ancient Greece, where worshipers observed a spring day in honour of Rhea, the Mother of the gods.
Since the 17th century in this country, Christians celebrated "Mothering Sunday", the fourth Sunday in Lent, to honour the Virgin Mary and other faithful Mothers. In those days servants were encouraged to take the day off to go home and spend the day with their mums A special cake, called the mothering cake or Simnel cake, was often brought along to provide a festive touch.
In 1914 Woodrow Wilson, the U.S. President declared the second Sunday of May to be the official Mother's Day. Denmark, Finland, Italy, Turkey, Australia and Belgium now celebrate Mother's Day on the same day.
2. The longest recorded interval between a woman having children is 41 years.
True. Elizabeth Ann Buttle of Cwmann, Camarthenshire, gave birth to Belinda on 19th May 1956 and Joseph on 20th November 1997. She was then aged 60 and was probably the only woman at the local post office to collect a pension and family allowance at the same time!
3. The chick of a Western gull pecks its mother's red bill spot to show that it is hungry. The mother then flies off to get insects for her young.
False. The mother passes food from her own stomach to the mouth of her offspring.
4. The highest number of children born to one mother is 69.
True. Mrs Feodor Vassilyev of Russia was pregnant 27 times between 1725 and 1765. She had 16 pairs of twins, 7 sets of triplets, and four sets of quadruplets (yes it does add up!).
5. After they have given birth alligator and crocodile mothers put their newly-born offspring into their mouths to give them warmth.
False. Alligators and crocodiles lay eggs! The mothers cover their buried clutches of eggs with vegetation that radiates heat as it rots, keeping nest temperatures within the right limits.
6. As they travel to make their young, the colour and shape of the head of the female sockeye salmon changes so it cannot eat.
True, they literally giving up their lives so that their eggs have a chance to mature. In fact, the mothers' spent bodies actually become part of a food chain that later benefits their developing young.
First of all we discovered that there are at least two mother's days in the world. It is great to show our mothers how much we appreciate them by telling them, sending them a card, and giving them a gift. But, of course, we can do that every day, and every day should be mothers', and indeed fathers' day.
We heard about the woman who had one child when she was eighteen or nineteen, and another one forty-one years later when she was sixty. This reminds us that there are mothers of all ages, and whether their children are infants, or forty one, or older, being a mother is a God-given vocation for life. Just because their children reach eighteen years old, doesn't mean that a mother fails to care, love or be concerned about her offspring. We see this in the life of Jesus' mother, Mary, as we heard in our reading.
Who comes from a large family – how many brothers and sisters do you have?
Imagine having 68 brothers and sisters. You'd have a job remembering all their names, especially if any of the twins were identical. Perhaps they had name tags! Families come in all shapes and sizes – and complexity – and all are loved and valued by God.
I have step-parents and 3 half brothers! God created diversity – he is the master of it – so I think he loves all our differences, individually, collectively and all our connotations of what family means to us.
What is important to God is how we love each other – how we show inclusivity, compassion and acceptance of all the different ways families can be interpreted.
And as mothers and indeed parents we will never get it right al the time. I loved my mother dearly, but she wasn’t perfect!
There are no formal lessons in how to be a parent, and all of us parents make mistakes. But there is forgiveness available through Jesus, and, as Christians who have been forgiven, we are called to forgive others. This is why we pray 'Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us' in the Lord's Prayer.
We learned how the Western Gull mother gives her own food to her young and the mother sockeye salmon gives her very life for her young. This reminds us that there are so many sacrifices that mothers and care givers make. They give their time, energy, love, sleep, freedom, finances, perhaps their careers and so on.
When I was a young mum of one, a little while ago now, I remember a conversation I had with a slightly older lady. We used to run an 'Enquirers Groups' for people wanting to find out more about the Christian faith. In the first meeting we would talk about the course and invite people to introduce themselves. So, people would say their name, where they lived, what their jobs were etc. One lady said, my name is Carol and I don't do anything. When we questioned her it turned our she had six children at the time! The idea that anyone with so many children could do nothing is laughable, but behind her comment was the wrong thought that raising children was not worthwhile or inferior to paid employment. As a stay at home mum at the time I know this was something that I struggled with for a long time. To be a mother is a wonderful gift and an immense responsibility.
Today, we need to do all that we can to support mothers as they wrestle with all the demands of raising children, working and often looking after their parents too.
And those who are mothers can ask for God's help as they fulfil this role and pray that their children will know Jesus and follow his ways.
Let us pray,
Father God, on this Mothering Sunday we thank you for our mums. We pray for your strength and guidance for mothers and care givers everywhere, and ask that we would all fulfil your calling to love and serve one another, through Jesus Christ our Lord, in the power of your Holy Spirit. Amen.
Rev'd Kia
Sunday 23 March, Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary
Texts; Psalm 40: 5-11, Luke 1: 26-38
I don’t know if, like me, you have never had a heavenly angel come knocking at the door, but in accordance with that well known law dictated by a Mr Sod, I bet if one came to my house it would be when I had abandoned my Henry vacuum cleaner in the middle of the sitting room and both my study and kitchen would look more like bombsites than orderly places of work. I just have this strong feeling that any visit of an angel is unexpected and unlike, say a visit from royalty, one cannot prepare for it as one might like to do. I am quite certain this was the case with Mary, that young girl whose life was turned upside down by the uninvited arrival of the Angel Gabriel to disturb what must up to then have been a very simple, very ordinary even humdrum life.
The only account of this heavenly visitor occurs in Luke’s gospel and he writes of her being ‘perplexed’ I think she must have been a lot more than ‘perplexed’ and we can only imagine the mix of emotions that must have flooded through her, including that of fear at just what was the precise purpose of this visitor; what exactly did his presence mean for her? And, of course, Gabriel picks up on this and seeks to calm those fears and we can surely imagine him gently but firmly telling her not to be afraid and giving her that wonderful assurance that she, yes she, this simple girl, had indeed found favour with God.
This is a story we hear every Christmas, and it must almost have become for many of us imprinted as part of our DNA. Mary who bore the Christ Child; Mary who cared for the Christ Child as he grew to manhood. Mary who, with other members of the family, worried as to just what her son was doing and what it would lead to as he began his extra-ordinary ministry, his divine ministry. Mary, who with a few other brave women, watched in agony as her Son, her Christ Child, was lifted high and put to death on the cross. Mary who would have been one of the first to be told of the empty tomb and know for an absolute certainty that the angel Gabriel’s words were indeed true; her son was, indeed, ‘great'; he was indeed ‘holy’; he wa,s indeed, the Son of the Highest, the Son of God.
There are, of course, countless paintings, statues and stained-glass windows depicting Mary but, in all honesty, I very much doubt if she would recognise any of them as being her. For the most part Christian art shows a European, non- Semitic young woman dressed almost always in beautiful blue robes. And while Mary might roundly declare ‘I don’t look a bit like that’ I think she might have been secretly flattered but also humbled by being portrayed in such sumptuous robes, the like of which she certainly never wore in this lifetime. But why blue she might well have asked, and the answer is that all those artists must have had a chat with a theologian or two as to just what would be the most symbolic colour in which to paint her robes. Firstly, the colour blue was deemed to symbolize the qualities of purity and humility. Secondly, blue was regarded as the colour of the people of Israel. Those learned theologians would be able, I’m sure, to quote from the Book of Numbers in which the Lord gave this specific instruction to Moses: ‘Speak to the Israelites and tell them to make fringes on the corners of their garments throughout their generations and to put a blue cord on the fringe at each corner. You have the fringe so that, when you see it, you will remember all the commandments of the Lord and do them '(Numbers 15:38-39). Thus the artists, by using from their palette their very finest blue, were symbolically portraying Mary as a faithful and obedient daughter of Zion. And thirdly, in the same Book of Numbers the Levites are given God’s instruction to cover both the Ark of the Covenant and the Bread of the Presence with cloths of blue (Numbers 4: 5-7a). Hence, all those superb paintings by some of the world’s most lauded artists are intended to convey the further symbolism that Mary represents the new Ark of the Covenant, clothed in blue as the old one was, who had held within herself the divine Presence of God, the Bread of Life.
Quite what Mary herself would make of all this I’m not sure but nonetheless this symbolism gives a wonderful picture for us of the ongoing connection between the Old and New Testament and of how our understanding of God and his relationship to us, his children, is both explored, developed and continually expanded. And there is one other connection we should take note of this morning and that is in the words of the beautiful Introit sung by the choir. Without going into complex linguistic detail it contains some clever Latin word play in which Mary is seen to be the new Eve. The old Eve having, by her eating of the forbidden apple and tempting Adam to do the same, is seen as breaking the perfection of our human relationship with God. Now the new Eve by her unquestioning obedience to God’s will is empowered to bear the Son of God who will, through God’s grace, restore that broken relationship between God and humans. The tainted apple has been replaced by the perfect fruit of Mary’s womb.
But all this symbolism aside, back to that simple girl, a child almost, who had been chosen by God to bear his Son. I am sure she must have often queried ‘Why me?’ while at the same time giving us an example of unquestioning and humble obedience to God’s will: ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.’ Or, as our last hymn today so poetically phrases it: ‘Sing we of the blessed Mother who received the angels’ word, and obedient to his summons bore in love the infant Lord.’
The answer, of course, for the ‘Why me’ is that for all of us during our lifetimes we will ask precisely the same question of ourselves. Why me called to do this? Why have I been overlooked? Why me to have my cancer return? Why me to be expected always to do the clearing up? Why me, me, me, me? And there will be no satisfactory answer, no logical explanation, except to learn to accept with grace and humility as Mary did what has befallen us, what is being asked of us. Accept that God’s wishes for us completely over-rule any of our own we have selfishly harboured. It may be that we have, like Mary, been called to perform some special service for our Lord God or it could also be that, like Mary, we have to accept that ‘a sword will pierce our own soul too.’ Like Mary, we may have the joy of that annunciation and that birth in that stable in Bethlehem, together with all the sorrow and infinite pain of being at the foot of the cross. In both sets of circumstances can we, like Mary, have that same unquestioning obedience to what has befallen us and repeat those words in truth: ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.’ ?
And if it is an angel, be they of the winged variety or simply one in human form who comes knocking at your door to speak God’s word of good tidings to you, don’t worry if the house is a mess, just listen with reverence and joy that, like Mary, you have been blessed with such a visitor.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and in the hour of our death.
Virginia Smith
Sunday 16 March, Second 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
Luke 13:31-35
I have decided to follow Jesus,
I have decided to follow Jesus,
I have decided to follow Jesus,
No turning back, no turning back.
This was a song often sang at a church camp, where teenagers would sing sincerely, often teary-eyed, seated on the ground with the cross illumined by candlelight in front of them. In those emotional moments, I imagined myself to be standing firm in the Lord as the Philippians were urged to do by Paul, who reminded them, “Our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.” In those moments, I was determined to set my face toward him. But my single-mindedness never lasted. It was mostly the allure of gossip or boys that sidetracked my determination then. I stopped so often along the way of following that I lost my way. Occasional flashbacks to those times and to the words of that song turned my attention to Jesus, but I have moved in fits and starts through adolescence and adulthood — sometimes toward, and often away from singleness of purpose.
In chapter nine of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem, where he will be arrested and condemned. He intends to travel with single-minded purpose. No turning back, no turning back. But along the way, even he stops to teach, to heal or to sit with those who love him. Today’s text finds him confronted by Pharisees who warn him to move on quickly because the fox is at the gate — Herod Antipas is after him. In their hearing he lays out his plans: “I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.” I’m on my way to Jerusalem, he says. It’s the end of the road for me.
The lament for Jerusalem that follows these words has been much discussed: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Luke 13:34).
The problem is simple. Jesus has not yet been to Jerusalem, except as a boy of 12 when he stayed behind there and scared his parents half to death, and then once when he was escorted there by the devil during his wilderness temptation. Perhaps Jesus is speaking, as did the prophets before him, of God’s desire to gather Jerusalem’s children. Or, since all good Jews are children of Jerusalem, perhaps Jesus refers to his own attempts to gather them to himself all along the way.
Maybe he is thinking of the lawyer who asked, “Who is my neighbour?” or of Martha, who exploded in a fit of jealousy—or of the Pharisee who invited him to dinner and got a lecture about being clean on the inside. He might be thinking of the disciples, nervous at his talk of conflict and division, or of the bent-over woman he healed on the sabbath.
Some received his presence with thanksgiving and love, others with resentment, and still others with a puzzlement that gave way to anger. He has, in a sense, been gathering them all along the way to Jerusalem.
No turning back for Jesus. He knows where he’s going and won’t be deterred. He also knows what’s coming for him—betrayal, death and resurrection. In fact, he tries three times before he reaches Jerusalem to let his disciples in on the story. But they don’t get it. They stumble and meander along. just like the rest of the brood he tries to gather. Still his patience holds. Still he loves the ones who will not be gathered under his wings. Knowing that his own death is certain, he continues to teach and heal and draw his children to him.
This image of the bird hiding its brood under its wings is a familiar one from the Psalms (see Psalms 17, 36, 57, 61, 63), and it’s unfortunate that the lectionary texts do not include a Psalm that evokes this picture. Instead we hear that the Lord “will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will set me high on a rock.” Close, but not quite the same.
Our comfort is the hope that our Lord will, indeed, gather us, whether beneath his tent or under his wings. Our hope is that the pattern of the Christ among the chicks on the way to Jerusalem will be his pattern among us as well.
Though we often don’t “stand firm” as Paul admonishes the Philippian believers to do, we long for Jesus to reach out and draw us to him in spite of ourselves. Try as we might, most of us will not walk in the single-minded path that the old camp song promises in its final verse:
The cross before me, the world behind me,
The cross before me, the world behind me,
The cross before me, the world behind me,
No turning back, no turning back.
Lent challenges us to try. I know that even in Lent I won’t be able to walk straight toward the cross. I’ve tried before. Only Christ could do that. As he gathered so many on his journey toward Jerusalem that first time, maybe he’ll catch me along the way, too: to heal, to teach or just to sit for a while. That hope strengthens my resolve to focus on the cross, lest I miss his reaching.
Rev'd Kia
6.00pm Evensong
Texts: Philippians 3: 17-4:1, Luke 13: 31-end
‘Yet, today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed away from Jerusalem’ These words make it absolutely clear that Jesus knew exactly the road he must travel and the destination he must reach. A destination which would not just be the physical city of Jerusalem but a destination which would fulfil God’s will for His beloved Son. He knew without a shadow of doubt where he was going and what it would mean, and no one could divert him from that road and all the horrendous danger that lay ahead. And if we stop and think seriously about it do we, in all honesty, recognise his supreme courage, his absolute obedience to the Father’s will? Courage which I very much doubt I could possibly have but here I would like to give two short examples of saints whose courage surely matched that of Jesus Christ the man whom they had chosen to serve.
The first was Father Damien, a Belgian Roman Catholic Priest whose prayer was to be sent on a mission. A prayer that was answered when, in 1873 aged thirty-three, he was sent to a colony mandated by the government of Hawaii for those suffering from leprosy. In accepting this posting Father Damien knew that, in all likelihood, he too would in time contract what then was a much dreaded and incurable disease. The first thing he organised on his arrival was the building of the church to be followed by the building up of what had been a very wretched disorganised community physically, emotionally and spiritually to a community of shared caring and love. As expected after eleven years he did indeed contract the disease and died as he had witnessed so many others do five years later in 1889. His superiors had at one time described him as lacking ‘education and finesse’ but considered him to be ‘an earnest peasant hard at work in his own way.’ Thank goodness in 2009 the Roman Catholic Church recognised the true saintliness of this man, this earnest peasant, and he was canonised. Yes, surely Damien, too, would have echoed Christ’s words ‘Yes today, tomorrow and the next day I must be on my way’. His way for Christ which like his ended in another form of cruel death.
My second example is Maximilian Kolbe a Polish Franciscan friar who, before his arrest by the Nazi,s helped hide over two thousand Jews from being rounded up. But, in May 1941 he and four of his brother friars were arrested and Kolbe was sent to Auschwitz as prisoner 16670 and subjected to violent beatings. In July of that year a prisoner managed to escape that hell hole and as punishment their captors picked at random ten men to starved to death. One of the ten, in his terror, cried out ‘My wife, my children’ and hearing this Kolbe stepped forward and offered to take his place knowing that, like Christ, there was only one agonised way in which his journey would end. Witnesses testified to Kolbe leading the others with him in hymns and prayers until after two weeks with neither food nor water only four men remained. Since the Nazis wanted their cell for other purposes the four were given lethal injections of carbolic acid and Kolbe is said to have raised his left arm and calmly waited for the deadly injection. Maximilan Kolbe, like Father Damien before him, was canonised in 1982.
Two men who did not for one moment flinch from following their Lord along the Cavalry Road. So, what about us? Just how are we to follow their example or, being quite honest with ourselves, is the Calvary Road one we do our best to avoid? Do we enjoy our pancakes on Shrove Tuesday and then let this season slip by for the most part un-noticed until hooray we can celebrate Easter and all those eggs and chocolate? Oh yes, we may make token efforts at some form of fasting but does this mean we are really travelling that hard and challenging road. And here is yet another question for us perhaps to consider even if we do follow the road to some extent, where will we be on Good Friday? Will we, with the women and John, remain at the foot of the cross for all those long, anguished hours watching in horror and deepest sorrow the supreme sacrifice made for us by God’s own beloved Son, or will we, like all the other disciples, simply in effect ‘run away’ and wait for the Easter Dawn? The church registers tell their own story of very limited attendances on Good Friday and then a lovely full church on Easter Day.
Lent, for me, has to be more than a token effort; Lent is, I think, a time when we are really called as Damien was, as Maximilian was, to hear the call of Christ and choose quite deliberately to walk that road of destiny with him. To set aside a proper length of time each day of Lent just to reflect and meditate on what exactly God has done for us through His Son. Here I find these words of Pat Robson so helpful in any such reflective, meditative exercise: ‘We thank you that your Son gave up all of this life’s loveliness in sacrifice for us.’ A divine sacrifice that bought for us, God’s children, the remission and forgiveness of all those sins that have helped pin Jesus to that cross, We are all culpable and, again, Lent is the time to face up to our sins, recognise them for what they are and face the horror of knowing that we have indeed played our part in hammering in those cruel nails. Such reflection and meditation is unquestionably hard, very hard and that, of course, is why so many of us allow temptation to help us avoid it and try to excuse ourselves by our claim to have given up that chocolate or glass of wine. Jesus walked that road knowing exactly where he was going and what would inevitably befall him, and he resisted any suggestion made by others that he might turn away and seek another way. Neither did Maximilian, neither did Damien, neither have thousands of others down through the centuries. But let us also remember that in walking that road both men were still enabled to express their very real joy in knowing Christ and following him and while this Lenten journey is in many respects a sombre and challenging one we must, I am certain, still allow time to look for and express our own most grateful thanks for all the loveliness and wonder of God’s world and find joy in so doing.
May God in his infinite kindness give us the strength this Lent to walk the Cavalry Road to the foot of the Cross and there know, as Christ looks down at us, that it was not the nails that held him to that instrument of torture but quite simply the sacrificial love that embraces all God’s children The miraculous dawn of Easter Day can only truly be realised if we have understood the blackness, the heartache, the despair even and the complete sacrifice involved in that journey along the Cavalry road to the foot of that Cross. And then, as the light dawns, we can, with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, join in the rejoicing that God’s Son did, indeed, give up all life’s loveliness in sacrifice for us.
A prayer of Brother Roger of Taizé:
Agreeing to lose everything for you, O Christ, in order to take hold of you, as you have already taken hold of us, means abandoning ourselves to the living God. Centring our life on you, Christ Jesus, means daring to choose: leaving ourselves behind so as no longer to walk on two roads at the same time; saying no to all that keeps us from following you, and yes to all that brings us closer to you, and through you, to those whom you entrust to us.
Virginia Smith
Sunday 9 March, First Sunday in Lent
Luke 4:1-13
The Temptations of Jesus – and us
Imagine, for a moment, that the devil has decided to turn his attention to you – to test you, tempt you, try to stop you from following Jesus. You are a threat to the devil, after all. You are baptized, right? You are a follower of Jesus. You are here, worshiping our Lord.
The devil doesn’t like that. So, imagine that he has decided to try to turn you from your faith. And he’s going to approach you in three different ways, each way an attempt to try and turn you away from God. Three ways that the devil thinks might work, might tempt you to wander off the narrow way.
What might those be for you? They’re a little different for each of us. So what might yours be? Thinking about that, and sincerely wrestling with that, is an important aspect of our Lenten journey.
In today’s gospel reading (Luke 4:1-13), we find the devil doing this very thing with Jesus. Testing Jesus, tempting him, during his forty days in the wilderness. The devil is desperately seeking to stop Jesus from doing the work that our heavenly Father sent him to do. And what is so helpful about this reading for us is that we get to learn from Jesus how to deal with the temptations that the devil confronts us with.
The temptations will be very different for us, of course. We are not the Son of God! But still, we can learn from Jesus how to overcome whatever temptations we might face. And his temptations actually turn out to be pretty universal, once we think of them in that way.
The First Temptation
Take the first temptation that Jesus faces. It’s a pretty basic and universal one: It is about food. We’ve all had temptations involving food, I suspect. But imagine going without food for forty days, as Jesus did. At the end of those forty days, the devil approached Jesus and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” That must have been quite a temptation for Jesus. But what is this temptation, really? Is it just to eat food? Or is it about more than that?
If you are the Son of God, the devil is saying, then use your divine power to turn a stone into bread. This is a temptation to use his divine power for himself. It is a temptation to do something for himself. Not for his heavenly Father. Not for humanity. But for himself. And I suspect that the devil knows that if he can get Jesus to think about himself, even just a little, then the devil has won. Because there is no way that Jesus will be crucified for our sins, if he begins thinking about himself in any way.
And there is something universal in this. Because once we decide to live for ourselves, and not for God, we have begun wandering away from the faith. Because there is no way that we will do anything sacrificial – for God or for others, if we are thinking purely about ourselves. It doesn’t make any sense to do that.
So, when we are tempted in this way, how can we deal with it? What does Jesus do? He answers with Scripture. He quotes Deuteronomy (Deut. 8:3) to the devil: “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’” And the devil would know the next part of that verse: “But by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”
We don’t live by bread alone. We don’t live for bread alone. Our lives are about much more than eating and drinking and working and sleeping. They are about the relationship with God that Jesus came to restore. That comes first, Jesus is reminding us. And when we put that relationship first, then everything else makes more sense. It becomes natural for us to make sacrifices in our life for God – because our relationship with God is our highest priority. And because we know what a sacrifice God’s Son has made for us.
The Second Temptation
How about the second temptation? The devil showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and said to him: “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.”
Now, think first about why this might have been tempting to Jesus. The temptation isn’t to worship the devil, of course. The temptation for Jesus is to take a shortcut to his goal – to agree to worship the devil so that he could be given control of the world. And wouldn’t the world be a better place if Jesus were in control?! Even if he had to make a deal with the devil, the world would be better off if Jesus were in charge. Of course, Jesus is in charge, but he chooses to rule the world not by force, but by love. And that means that his will is not always done among us.
But what does this have to do with us? The devil isn’t offering us any deals like this, right? We certainly can’t take control of the world, even if we think we could do something positive for it. But aren’t we tempted to take control of our little corner of the world? We know how to fix our little corner, don’t we? We know how to fix our family, or our friends, or our school or workplace. There are things that we could do that would be so simple, right? And it would fix them. We know it would! It really is a temptation sometimes. But does it ever work?
When we take control of our little corner of the world, instead of trusting our corner to God, it never really works out. We try and hold it all together and our grip gets tighter and tighter until we get overwhelmed, full of anxiety and this can lead to despair and eventually to apathy. It never works out for us for a very simple reason: Unlike God, we can’t see the whole picture. And we aren’t perfect. So it is always better to trust things to God.
When Jesus was offered this particular temptation, he answered the devil by quoting Deuteronomy (6:13) again: “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.” It is a matter of trust, isn’t it? Even for Jesus. Of trusting God with our little corner of the world. Worshiping God, serving God, remembering that God is in control, not us. We can talk to God about it, and we should. We can join God in improving our corner of the world, and we should. But it really is God’s world, even our corner of it. And our task is to worship, serve, trust, and love. And leave the rest to God.
The Third Temptation
So, how about the third temptation? The devil took Jesus to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple; and this time, the devil tried using Scripture on Jesus. The devil knows his Bible! So he quoted Psalm 91 to Jesus: “Throw yourself down from there, for it is written, ‘‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”
So, why would this be tempting for Jesus? Why would it be tempting for him to throw himself down from the temple, and trust God’s angels to protect him from getting hurt?
Well, imagine how much easier it would have been for Jesus to teach and preach, to gather disciples and to build the church, to do everything that Jesus was doing in his years of public ministry, if he started with a splashy miracle like this one. Everyone would have believed in him right away. The Pharisees, scribes, tax collectors, fishermen. Everyone would have known, right away, that this man truly is the Son of God. And Jesus could have done a lot of good if everyone believed that right away.
In fact, wouldn’t it be great if Jesus did that today? Did something so amazing in our world that everyone alive believed in him? I think it is pretty easy to see why this would be tempting.
But, again, we don’t have this temptation in our life, do we? Not literally, of course. But aren’t there times when we are tempted to let the ends justify the means? Aren’t there times when we can see a shortcut to accomplishing something good, and it seems like it might be worth it in the end, even if it’s not the best way to accomplish it?
But what Jesus is reminding us of today is that sometimes, it is better to do something in the right way, and fail, than to do something in the wrong way, and succeed. Success is not everything. Or, as Mother Teresa famously put it: “God has not called me to be successful, but to be faithful.” We are called to be faithful, and to trust the results to God. Jesus didn’t start his ministry with a splashy miracle because he knew that it was not God’s will. It would have been a shortcut, and it would have worked – and he would have been successful, but he chose being faithful over being successful. And he invites us to do the same.
The Devil’s Failure
Jesus faced three very real temptations before he began his public ministry. The devil knew what he was doing. And the same is the case with us. We will always be tempted to live for ourselves, to take control of our corner of the world, and to focus on success rather than faithfulness. But Jesus teaches us that through prayer, Scripture, and with the help of the Holy Spirit and each other, we can live for others, we can trust God with our corner of the world, and we can be faithful.
But what about when we struggle with these things, as we all do? There is one more very important thing that this story teaches us today: it teaches us that Jesus overcame the devil – he won the battle – for us, and for our world. In the wilderness, and on the cross, and everywhere in between, Jesus resisted the devil’s temptations. He didn’t listen to Peter, who tried to convince him to stay away from Jerusalem and certain death. He didn’t call on the army of angels, who were eager to fight for him, even when the Son of God was arrested. And even as he lay dying on the cross, Jesus refused to save himself. It would have been as simple as turning stone into bread, but he chose to die instead, to do his Father’s will.
Jesus didn’t turn the stone into bread, and he didn’t come down from the cross. And because he didn’t, he defeated the devil, once and for all. We don’t have to fear the devil anymore. Because Jesus has defeated him for us. Which means that no matter what is happening in our lives, no matter the temptations and trials and tests we might be going through, we can turn to Jesus, and he will be there for us, to lead us and guide us all along the way.
Let us pray,
Father, as we begin this season of Lent may we know your presence in a real way, walking with us, guiding us as we become more aware of the temptations all around us. Help us to stay faithful and to have trust in you and your plans for our loves, individually and as community.
In Jesus name we pray, Amen.
Rev'd Kia
Sunday 2 March, The Eighth after Epiphany
Luke 9: 28-36
Today is Transfiguration Sunday, the last Sunday before the season of Lent begins. This is more than the marking of time. It is movement in a journey. This mountaintop event is not isolated as a stand-alone story. This is part of the larger story. It is intentionally connected to what came before in verses 18–27, where Jesus declares that he is the Messiah, sent to die, and following him requires the same from us.
It might be helpful to get our bearings in the story. It’s been a little more than a week since Jesus has had that conversation about taking up crosses and denying ourselves. This was also the conversation when Jesus asked, “who do people say that I am?” after his disciples got back from their preaching trips. You might remember that Jesus listens to all their answers, and then asks the zinger question, “But what about you … Who do you say that I am?” (v. 20)
It’s a good question for each one of us as we embark on this journey. Listen to him ask you this question, “Who do you say that I am?” What do you say to him?
• “Jesus, you are my eternal life insurance policy,”
or perhaps,
• “Jesus, you are my helper or my guide,”
or maybe,
• “Jesus, you are my Saviour."
Where are we with Jesus today? And why is this important? Because however we identify him in our life determines how carefully we will listen to him.
We begin today on the Mount of Transfiguration. But we cannot stay here. Jesus is on a mission that will lead him toward Jerusalem and, ultimately, to the cross. So let’s zoom out for a moment, to get the full picture.
Two men, Moses and Elijah, appear in glorious splendour, talking with Jesus.
This scene immediately draws us back to key turning points in Israel’s history. Moses led the people out of Egypt and spent 40 days on the mountaintop with God (Exodus 20). Elijah represents all of the prophets who have spoken God’s truth. Elijah also encountered God on the same mountaintop where Moses met him (1 Kings 19:11-13).
Moses represents the Law and Elijah represents the Prophets. The people of Israel would refer to God’s Word as “the Law and the Prophets” when speaking of his collected revelation to his people. Their presence is a symbol of all of God’s covenants and promises and wisdom. And here we see them stationed on each side of Jesus, the One they were pointing to all along.
The disciples were in awe of Moses and Elijah. Moses and Elijah were in awe of Jesus. He is the Word who is completion and fulfilment of every word that came before. The disciples will soon recognize that they have seen the glory of God revealed, just as surely as Moses and Elijah did.
Verse 32 tells us, “Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.” Other versions word it a little differently. Instead of “since they had stayed awake,” those versions say, “when they became fully awake, they saw his glory.” In other words, the disciples were getting drowsy, just as they would in the garden of Gethsemane. But something woke them up. It was the glory of God, revealed in their friend, Jesus.
. . . when they became fully awake, they saw his glory . . .
Even though they are in the presence of his unrestrained glory, they haven’t yet seen it. Because they are not yet awake. The glory is there. They are just not aware of it.
This journey of Lent is an invitation to become awake. His glory is breaking in all around us, all the time. Do we have the eyes to see it? What is keeping us distracted? What is numbing our senses? What is lulling us to sleep? What will it take to become awake?
A friend of mine grew up in a pretty fundamentalist Baptist home. And he told me this story;
“We believed ‘once saved, always saved’ but if you weren’t saved the way we were saved, you weren’t really saved. My best friend, Coleen, came from a Catholic family that lived at the other end of our block. We could walk to school together, because the Catholic school was right across the street from my school.
One afternoon, on the way home from school, Coleen and I got into a fight. We were each convinced that the other one was going to Hell. Coleen was sure that I was going to Hell because I had not been baptized when I was a baby. I was just as convinced that she was going to Hell because she HAD been baptized as a baby, and that baptism hadn’t been a real baptism because her head had not gone under the water. You know, the way you’re supposed to be baptized.
We were yelling at each other as we walked home together, screaming louder and louder that the other one was certainly going to Hell. We came to a corner where we had to stop and look both ways for traffic.
Maybe it was because our feet had to stop, but we were suddenly both silent as we did the “stop, look, and listen before you cross the street” thing. And then Coleen said something that ended our argument. She said, “You know, we can’t both be right, and I don’t want either one of us to be wrong.” “Well, what if we’re both wrong?” I asked.
I suddenly realized that the way people are baptized isn’t nearly as important as deciding to follow Jesus in the first place. It was like waking up from a dream where you dream that you’re already awake”.
I wonder if that’s what those disciples felt like. They thought they’d been awake, but they didn’t become fully awake until they recognized Jesus in his glory.
Are we fully awake? So many of us are living in a season of life where we find ourselves tired and so prone to drifting off to sleep. It’s easy to be lulled into a kind of stupor – we aren’t really asleep, but we aren’t fully awake, either. We let ourselves drift, and we can get caught up in arguments over things that don’t have anything to do with following Jesus, thinking we know the only right way to be a Christian.
The voice from Heaven is still saying, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.”
To follow Jesus requires obeying him, which requires hearing him, which requires listening to him. As simple as that might sound, this is the heart of our journey together through the coming season of Lent.
We will seek to listen to him. We will avoid the temptation of believing we know what he meant. We will lean in to what he actually said. We will hang on his words and ask them to challenge us, shape us, break us, and heal us.
To listen to someone means to pay attention to what they say—to their words. Over the course of our lifetime, we all do a lot of talking. How many words would you estimate the average person speaks in their lifetime?
Get a number in your mind. By one expert estimate, the average person speaks 860,341,500 words over the course of a lifetime.
Multiply that by your own family alone and you have an idea of the incredible volume of words floating into and out of our lives all of the time. In no time we are way into the billions and billions of words bouncing around us all the time. And that’s before we even turn on the TV or check into social media.
Now, how many words would you estimate are in the Bible? The King James Version boasts 783,137 words. Now, how many of those would you estimate are the recorded words of Jesus? 36,450. Very roughly speaking, if you take out the duplicated words as they are repeated across the synoptic Gospels, it gets us down to less than 20,000 words.
Of the millions of words we will speak over the course of our lifetime and the billions of words we will hear, doesn’t it make sense that we would want to give the absolute fullness of our attention to the twenty thousand or so words spoken by the most significant person in the history of history—Jesus Christ, The Son of God? The second person of the Trinity—who among those 20,000 words said, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away” (Luke 21:33).
So let me offer you this challenge as we get ready to enter the season of Lent. Will you make a commitment to actively listen to Jesus, and then actively respond? I know that sounds simple, but it is a dangerous proposition. There is no way to predict how this might transform your life. Yet the Father cuts through the cloud and makes himself clear: “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.”
Over these next six weeks, we will be walking through the heart of Luke’s Gospel, from today’s passage through chapter 24. It comes to about 15,000 words total. Of those, around 11,000 are the recorded words of Jesus. Can we listen to him?
As we make our way down Transfiguration Mountain and begin this journey to the cross, which is the road to resurrection, I want to assure you of this fact: Jesus has something to say to you. What would it look like for us to raise the level of our expectation that this is so? How will we hear him? What will it take to get ourselves to a place where you can hear him?
I’d like to finish with a reflection by Steve Garnaas-Holmes -
Listen for the One amid the others,
the one who awakens something lovely in you.
If you don’t turn from this clanging world to listen
you won’t hear him.
Listen for the voice that calls you Beloved,
the voice that calls you to love.
Listen to the voice that speaks of Creation’s wholeness,
that beckons you to completion.
A voice that leads you toward others,
not your own rising above and away.
Listen to the song of the immense flowering within you,
the risk and passion you can dance to.
You will hear it in stillness, not in frenzy,
in silence, not in noise.
You will hear it from those who are belittled,
not those who are honoured by this besotted world.
The Beloved will not speak of success,
but death and resurrection.
Listen for one who speaks with hope and delight,
listen to him. Listen to him.
Rev'd Kia
Sunday 23 February, The Seventh after Epiphany
Texts: Psalm 65, Luke 8: 22-25
Do miracles still happen? That is, of course, a subject of debate, but I am quite sure they do. And one such I happen to believe in, as do many others, is back in 1940 as the Allied Army of British, French and Dutch troops were pushed back by the sheer might of the Nazi forces, onto the beaches of Dunkirk. And the amazing life-saving Operation Dynamo was immediately put into action to evacuate as many of those beleaguered men as possible. Twenty ships pf the Royal Navy and 850 ‘little ships’ set off across the channel to rescue over the course of a week from 26th May to the 4th June some 338 thousand troops. And the miracles that made this possible were two-fold; the first being that for those seven vital days the often-treacherous waters of the Channel remained unusually calm thus making evacuation of exhausted, helpless and wounded men onto those ‘little ships’ so much easier. And the second was that for reasons that have never been satisfactorily explained Hitler ordered his advancing forces to halt for three days instead of continuing to advance on all these thousands of trapped soldiers. And it was Winston Churchill himself who called this heroic rescue a ‘Miracle of Deliverance.’
Our gospel reading this morning tells of another miracle of deliverance for those terrified men on that small fishing boat as one of the notorious storms which could erupt out of nowhere, swept across the Lake of Galilee. Storms which even the most hardened and experienced fishermen were terrified of encountering, fearing for their lives. No wonder they cried out to Jesus for help; Jesus who it seemed could sleep quite peacefully despite the tumultuous rocking and plunging of that small seemingly unprotected boat. And having woken him, his first words to them were ‘Where is your faith?’ before he went on to rebuke wind and the raging waves. No wonder that, as his disciples’ heartbeats returned to normal and they knew their peril was ended, they themselves questioned, ‘Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?.’
So, too, we might well look to the power of God and call to Him to come to our own rescue when we also are buffeted and exposed not just to natural storms, when nature shows just how strong a force it can be, but to the equally rough storms of life, such as severe illness, both physical and mental, bereavement, breakdown of relationships, financial and business worries, and so much more all of which can so easily arise in our lives and threaten us. And it is in encountering such storms, be they natural or otherwise, we are called to have faith. Faith in God, faith in His Son, faith in the Holy Spirit who will, I sincerely believe, come to our aid. And, harking back to those men stranded and helpless son those beaches of Dunkirk, just how many prayers did they mutter both articulately and inarticulately, prayers which would have been echoed in their homes and churches that God would hear and still the waves of the English Channel, still the advance of the approaching Nazi army and provide rescue for them. That we shall never know, but I am sure there was an absolute barrage of prayer directed heavenward to the God who can and does save.
And here I turn to one of my favourite psalms, number one hundred and seven, which has these words: ‘Some went down to the sea in ships, doing business on the mighty waters; they saw the deeds of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea. They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths; their courage melted away in their calamity; they were at their wit’s end. Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress; he made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed. Then they were glad because they had quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven. Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind.’ And again and again throughout the psalm we have the words: ‘Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress.’
And it is, surely, these words that we should heed whenever we are called upon to face some form of storm which, often out of nowhere, erupts in our own lives. We are called to have faith, utter faith in the loving protection and care of the Lord our God. The loving Shepherd who is with us in the green pastures of life but so much more in the dark valleys of life. Of course, we have to be realistic and know that miracles are, by their very nature, rare, but the healing presence of the Lord is never rationed, never absent. So, even when our prayers are not answered as we would wish does not mean and cannot mean that God, the Good Shepherd, has failed to heed us. And I know from my own experience that prayers which were not answered as I would have liked at the time were indeed answered by God in some other way and ultimately brought me safely through the storms that had left me reeling and seemingly helpless.
Faith in good times is easy and can too easily be taken for granted, and it is only when we encounter life’s storms that we learn just how strong our faith is which is why we need I think in the green pastures to work at our faith. Keep up our prayers; keep up the time we choose to spend in God’s presence so that, in effect, we come to learn and rejoice that presence is never absent. And if we have learned the reality of that presence, then when the storms come in faith we can turn to God and trustingly reach for his hand to guide and support us, remembering the words of Isaiah; ‘For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand: it is I who say to you, “Do not fear, I will help you.”( Isaiah 41:13) Heed, too, these words of Julian of Norwich: ‘He did not say “You shall not be tempest-tossed, you shall not be work-weary, you shall not be discomforted.” But he said: “You shall not be overcome.” God wants us to heed these words so that we shall always be strong in trust, both in sorrow and joy.’
And if you need a little more wise help in facing up to the storms you could do no better than sing as loudly as you can that familiar song from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical Carousel with these words; ‘When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high and don’t be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm is a golden sky and the sweet silver song of a lark. Walk through the wind, walk on through the rain, though your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone! You’ll never walk alone.’ But for this morning here in church our last hymn ‘Thou whose Almighty Word chaos and darkness heard’ will do as well as we recognise the miracle that is God’s ability to transform and quieten again and again the dark and storm tossed times of our lives by the perpetual light of his saving presence.
Virginia Smith
Sunday 16 February, The Sixth after 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: 1 Corinthians 15: 12-20, Luke 6: 17-26
Where have you seen Christ this week? Possibly not a question you have been asked before but one that we all need to answer, especially in the light of today’s reading from Corinthians in which Paul again and again talks about the risen Christ; the Christ who has risen from the dead; the Christ who is alive. And in one of those strange coincidences that to me are sure proof of the work of the Holy Spirit, before I had even looked up today’s readings, I had read these words of David Adam; ‘If we do not believe in the resurrection it is obvious we have not spent any time with the risen Lord. We have failed to acknowledge his presence; we have not got to know him. So we miss out on the awareness of the power of his resurrection.’ And he goes on: ‘Learn to live the resurrection. Do not forever be looking backwards to the land of Palestine and what Jesus once did. Learn to walk with the risen Lord.’ Walk with the risen Lord. Is that what we are doing or, has it never really occurred to us, never really sunk in that we do, indeed, have such a companion to walk beside us on every day of our life’s journey?
Adam’s words are strong words and ones we should surely heed if we are to grow in faith and in trust. Faith and trust that our Lord, the risen Christ is very much alive and at work here today just as he was some two thousand years ago. He is surely here working within all of us who profess his name and, indeed, I believe in others who do not profess a Christian faith and yet, like us, love God and love their neighbour just as we are instructed to do. It was Gandhi who said: ‘If you don’t find God in the very next person you meet, it is a waste of time looking for him further.’ And here I re-echo words I have used before in a sermon: ‘If I see Christ in you my friend, do you see Christ in me?’
We are called, I believe, more and more to look for Christ in others and in that looking find him. Find him in their deeds and their words. Christ is everywhere, but we have to learn to look with his eyes which are the eyes of love, the eyes of compassion, the eyes of understanding. Christ is there among the poor just as he was back in Galilee, commending the poor widow who gave her two mites, her entire wealth, to the Lord. Christ is among the hungry just as he was when he fed the five thousand on that hillside with five loaves and two fish. Christ is here alongside those who mourn, just as he was when he raised the widow’s son and healed Jairus’ daughter. Jesus is not, and cannot, be simply a historical figure but a living reality here in this church this morning, here in our homes if we do but look for him, here wherever we go.
Almost every time we come to church we say one of the creeds professing our belief in the resurrection, in a living Christ who, by that glorious resurrection, has bought at sacrificial cost eternal life for us. A belief we re-echo at a funeral service when we commend and commit the dead into God’s eternal care. If we mouth these as empty meaningless words, then as Paul so bluntly puts it, ‘our proclamation has been in vain, and our faith has been in vain’. But true belief and faith in the reality of a risen Christ means we become in the words of Saint Augustine ‘Easter people’ Easter people who are called to live out their lives not simply in the company of Christ but, far more importantly, in the companionship of Christ. A companionship we may, by grace, discover in all those we meet, A companionship which we are especially called to have with the poor, the hungry and the grieving. The words of Michael Mayne express so perfectly how it is we can see the living Christ in our world today: ‘For supremely and primarily the Holy Spirit opens our eyes to Christ. Not just to Jesus of Nazareth, who was once met and listened to and followed at a certain point in history, but to the living Christ here and now. The Christ in each other. We can no longer experience Jesus as a man as the disciples did, but we can encounter Christ as life-giving Spirit. Once the ascension has taken place, once he has returned to the Father, once there is no person to see and hear, then his followers have to look for him elsewhere. They have to turn and look into one another’s eyes, listen to one another’s words, receive forgiveness from one another’s lips and receive the broken bread from one another’s hands.’
What this means for us this morning is that if we can truly claim to be Easter people is that always and everywhere we must look and, to our joy, find the risen Christ incarnate in others, in our neighbours and, as I’ve already suggested, most of all in the suffering of others. And in that looking and finding then surely just as we discover Christ in them, they will find Christ in us.
And one final thought may we by God’s merciful grace all be given the incomparable blessing of finding and seeing Christ here in this life and walk with him wherever that may be and not wait until the life beyond our earthly death when it could just be possible that Christ might truthfully claim he does not recognise us.
Virginia Smith
6.00pm Evensong
Texts: 1 Corinthians 14; 1-11, Luke 5: 1-11
Those last uncompromising words of today’s gospel reading:
‘They left everything and followed him’ prompted me to do a little research
with three colleagues at St Peter’s hospital with whom I happened to be
enjoying a break. The question I asked them was ‘If your house was burning down
and knowing that any human inhabitants and pets were safe what objects would
you most want to rescue?’ Two of them
immediately said passports and documents while the third’s equally as prompt
response was ‘my laptop’. Interestingly, neither of the two who claimed
passports as their first choice were both born in this country. Following these we had phones, jewellery,
medicines and warm coats and boots though whether these latter would have
featured if I’d asked the question on a hot summer’s day I rather doubt. There
was then a very lively conversation re the merits of laptops and smart phones
to provide storage for a wealth of treasured photos and videos and, indeed, so
much else and then onto whether if Jesus returned today, would he use social
media and his disciples WhatsApp groups and satnavs for their journeys to
fulfil their mission to spread the gospel.
An interesting question we could all maybe ponder over a later date. Of
two other responses I had later on from somewhat older people, one - in his very
active nineties - said he’d take his toolbox and the other somewhat surprisingly
proposed to lug out the Chippendale chair bequeathed to her by her father and
upholstered by him.
And, reflecting on their answers, I thought that when trying to decide what I might grab as the flames threatened grabbing passport and documents had never even crossed my mind and the only thing I thought I would like to have is a leather bound notebook which my husband bought me years ago in Florence. This notebook with its gloriously think creamy paper has been filled with prayers and sayings which, over the years, have caught my eye and spoken to me of the wonder and mystery that is God and the honour due to him and to which I often turn for inspiration. Now maybe I should also consider that having passports and other essential documents might also be worth having in an age which more and more seems to demand proof of identity.
But for those first four disciples it would appear that no such thoughts crossed their minds as they left their boat, left everything and followed Jesus. These four were followed by eight others who presumably also left their past behind and all that applied to that past. And when the time came for those first disciples to be sent out in pairs to ‘proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal’ they were given the instruction ‘take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money-not even and extra tunic.’ Here again we not only learn what was required of those first disciples but are surely utterly humbled by their response. Their response to leave everything, take nothing. Forget passports, smart phones, jewellery and even our warm coats and boots and that chair and go and proclaim the Kingdom!
And, of course, those first amazing men did indeed give everything in the service of Christ. Between them they travelled to the far outposts of the known world. Thomas it is reputed to have been as far as India, Andrew to the land of the ‘man-eaters' which is now part of Russia, Philip to Asia Minor where traditionally he was put to death by the Roman proconsul for converting his wife to Christianity, Simon to Persia, now Iran, where again legend has it he was put to death for refusing to worship the sun god and all their fellow disciples, bar Judas. also embarked on similar challenging journeys to carry out their divine commission. And all of them, save John, who died in his bed, were traditionally said to have been martyred and wonderful accounts of their reputed exploits have been enshrined in history. James was the first to be martyred as related in Acts and we also know that Peter was supposedly crucified upside down circa 46AD by order of the then Emperor Nero. But whether Thomas was killed by the blows of spears or Simon stabbed with a sword, we have only the legends that, if of nothing else, remind us of the enduring and world changing influence of these amazing, courageous men. Those first disciples who left everything, travelled light to spread the light of the gospel of Christ. Those first disciples whose example has inspired both men and women to this very day to also give up so much and risk so much including their lives to follow in their footsteps, their footsteps which, of course, were trodden in the footsteps of Christ himself.
So, back to us who could never honestly be said to travel light with all our documentation, our smart phones, our Satnavs, our warm coats and sturdy footwear, all of which would be utterly alien to those disciples and, indeed, to Jesus himself. And here it strikes me that if Jesus was to return today he would not be a fan of social media and constant texting because what Jesus always wanted to do and still longs to do is, actually, to be alongside people in order to bring his gospel., his good news by means, in large part, by his presence bringing his healing touch and comforting reassuring love.
So, with all this in mind, what is it we are called to do? What is our God given commission? And, I think, it’s fair to say, in all honesty, that we will not be leaving everything and travelling to the far corners of the globe. And seeking answers I turned to that little leather covered notebook and found first these striking words of Desmond Tutu that ‘each of us is a God Carrier’. Isn’t that the most remarkable image that each and every one of us in this church this evening, along with millions upon millions of others down through the centuries, are God Carriers? Wherever we go this week we go as God Carriers and, in that incredible role, surely we can fulfil these words of Mother Teresa also taken from that notebook: ‘not all of us can do great things but all of us can do small things with great love.'
Those first intrepid disciples were, without a doubt, ‘God Carriers’ and so, it must be emphasised, yet again, are we and even should, heaven forbid, we lose everything in some disaster we can never lose that priceless commission; the commission given us by God to be his agents here on earth. And while a very few may do great things, the majority of us are surely called to do small things with great love in his name and thus continue that divine commission first given to those twelve intrepid disciples to be God Carriers and ensure the continuous worldwide spread of the gospel in Christ’s name.
Open our eyes that we may see the deepest needs of people. Move our hands that they may feed the hungry. Touch our hearts that they may bring warmth to the despairing. Teach us generosity that welcomes strangers. Let us share our possessions to clothe the naked. Give us the care that strengthens the sick. Help us in the quest to set prisoners free. In sharing our anxieties and our love, our poverty and our prosperity, we partake of your divine presence.,
Virginia Smith
Sunday 9 February, The Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
Text: Luke 5:1-11
Why on earth is there so much fish and fishing in the gospels? For a day labourer, a jobbing builder from the hill town of Nazareth, Jesus spends a strange amount of time (the bulk of his ‘ministry’) mucking about with fishermen when he might otherwise have been on building sites. Why?
In our reading this week, the story of the ‘miraculous catch’, Luke finally recruits some disciples for Jesus. He’s left it a little later in the narrative than his primary source, Mark, would have preferred, but Luke likes a detailed yarn.
To begin with, though, the story is not about the disciples - it’s about a boat. Jesus’ teaching is so popular that a crowd has built up and he needs a boat from which he can teach. Luke doesn’t say what he was teaching, just that it was ‘the word of God’. Our only clue, then, is the location. It was something that people by the sea of Galilee wanted to hear.
Who is the great villain of the gospels? Herod Antipas. “That fox” as Jesus called him, the guy who had John the Baptist executed for calling out the political scheming that lay behind his outrageous marriage to the Hasmonean princess Herodias. The great villain of the gospels is not a disembodied spirit, it is not a fallen angel as some would prefer. It is, in fact, a malign power, but it’s a malign power with a name and a face. And a beard. Herod Antipas - the man who wanted more than anything else to be: “King of the Jews”.
It was around 18CE that Antipas made the first of his two major political moves and began the construction of Tiberias, his new capital, on the shore of the sea of Galilee. It’s kind of a weird thing to do, to build a new capital city when you’ve already got a perfectly good one, Sepphoris, known for its impressive Roman architecture and rich cultural life: “The ornament of all Galilee”. But strategy sometimes demands weird moves, and Herod made his by setting up a new home by the lake.
What spurred on the move from the hillside to the lake? The economy. The economy is everything, get that right, and you will win.
Back in the early years of the first century, Herod Antipas, the man who wanted to be King of the Jews, had an economy problem. He needed to raise more money, and he had already squeezed the hillside peasants pretty hard. But just twenty or so miles away from Sepphoris lay a fruit ripe for the picking: a lake full of fish, being fished, inefficiently, by small boats full of hand-to-mouth fishermen. Imagine what could happen if that resource could be tapped, imagine what could happen if the lake was commercialised. Imagine the fish factories, the salting plants, the export trade… Cha-ching! This would impress Rome.
Antipas’ dad, Herod the Great (the previous King of the Jews) had focussed his attention on the south, Romanisation had taken hold around Jerusalem, but not so much in Galilee - until now. Now Antipas was digging deep in order to make his mark. If he was going to get a Caesar to declare him ‘King of the Jews’ instead of the embarrassing title ‘Tetrach’ as Augustus had given him, then surely it would be Tiberius, the man he had been cultivating.
Naming the new capital after him wouldn’t hurt his cause - in fact, why not the whole lake? Lake Tiberias - it has a certain ring to it.
As Galilee moved toward the third decade of the first century the place was changing rapidly, it was becoming Romanised. As the city of Tiberias took shape, so Antipas’ tax coffers began to bulge. The whole lake, newly named after the emperor, came to symbolise the exploitation system of the time. As such it was the obvious place for Jesus to take his radical message. Unlike conservative Nazareth where, Luke says, his old friends just weren’t up for this radical return to prophetic Judaism, the heavily taxed, exploited, lakeside people were ready to hear. So many of them were ready to hear him, in fact, that he had to get on a boat and get off shore a bit.
In his story of the recruitment of the first disciples, Luke indulges in one of his own parables, that of the miraculous catch. Under the Antipas system these oppressed fishermen were suffering, they had nothing. They were destined to starve. In the ‘kingdom of God’, on the other hand, the radical message that called people back to the old Israelite ways, they would have abundance. Stay part of the exploitation system, aka the ‘sinful’ life (“I am a sinful man” confesses Simon), and the results are obvious. “Do not be afraid;” proposes Jesus by way of an alternative, “from now on you will be catching people.”
Jesus and John the Baptist were not people out of context. Herod Antipas isn’t a bit part player in the gospels. The story was never about one catch of fish.
“When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him,” concludes Luke. There’s no rejoicing at the amazing catch, no great disbursement of the fish, no messages to family or friends. The story was never about that.
Here and now, Luke sets out, the popular revolt against the injustice of Antipas’ reign really took hold. Here, on the shores of the lake, the Jesus movement - the ‘kingdom of God’ movement as he might have preferred, got rolling. It got rolling among the overtaxed and exploited fishermen, among those who needed to hear some good news. It got rolling among those who could now see that ‘King of the Jews’ was indeed a meaningful title.
Jesus’ mission had begun proper. And it continues today – with us – as we seek to bring the Good News to others.
Some do this in so called BIG ways but the majority of us do this in small, often unseen ways. Both are of equal importance in building the kingdom of God.
Our challenge to ourselves is are we trying to follow Jesus? Are we following him in terms of our day to day actions, thoughts and words? How we spend our time, our money? Never underestimate the impact you have on those around you.
I’ll leave you with these words attributed as the last words spoken by St David, the patron Saint of Wales, “Be joyful, keep the faith, and do the little things that you have heard and seen me do”.
Amen.
Rev'd Kia
Sunday 2 February, Candlemas
As we rejoice in the gift of this new day so may the light of your presence, O God, set our hearts on fire with love for you.
Readings: Psalm 24, Luke 2: 22-40
Candles! I think, though I could be wrong, that most people really like candlelight. Its flickering flame, its soft glow, and its seeming naturalness compared to electric light. And it is perhaps salutary to reflect that right up until around the start of the nineteenth century candles were the only means of illumination as the hours of darkness descended. The first house to be gas lit was in 1792 in the Cornish home of the Scottish engineer William Murdoch and the first house to be lit by electricity was the Northumberland home of Thomas Eddison himself, in 1878. Both these developments provided a revolution to the way in which people could spend the night hours and, some would claim, that as a result our Circadian Rhythm has, in so many instances, become badly disjointed.
Candles which have been a source of light, and I would claim, a source of comfort and of hope were first invented by the Egyptians around three thousand BC and have continued to be made in one form or another over the subsequent millennia. Tallow, beeswax, spermaceti from the heads of sperm whales the seeking of which almost caused their extinction, all these have been put to use to ensure that there would be light in the darkness. And in my research, I also discovered the bizarre fact that early Chinese candles used rice paper and candlewax created by mashing together a local insect with seeds! Seeking a source to produce light has been a constant activity of humans since the very dawn of civilisation continuing to the present day with LED and solar lights and who knows what else the inventors and scientists might come up with to provide that round the clock light to which we have become so accustomed. And, in a different way, humankind has also known and indeed been driven with the spiritual urge to seek the divine light, the divine flame which reveals the presence of God in our lives and can so beautifully and powerfully illumine those lives. The divine light which can guide our life’s journey or, as the Eastern Orthodox monk Symeon so beautifully expressed it, ‘You have flooded my heart with the light of your way.’
Today we celebrate Candlemas to coincide with the presentation of Christ in the Temple. The source of human illumination alongside the unique source of divine illumination. And, depending how well you know your Bible, you will find reference after reference to that divine light shining out upon the world. And today’s gospel reading is, of course, one of them as we are told how Simeon was blessed with the long awaited, long yearned for sight of the Lord’s Messiah, the Lord’s Saviour whom he pronounced would be ‘a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.’ Or, in the perhaps more beautifully poetic words of the King James Bible: 'Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.’
What a wonderful, glory filled, never to be forgotten moment that must have been for Simeon as he held what was in fact still a mere scrap of helpless humanity, a forty day old babe, in his arms and knew without a shadow of doubt that that promise he had been given that he would, indeed, live long enough to bear witness to the coming of the Lord’s Messiah, had that day been fulfilled. Here, indeed, was he who would bring a never before seen Light into the world. A Light for all to see, be they Jew or Gentile. The true Light which, as Saint John affirmed in the opening words of his gospel, would be the light of all people which would enlighten everyone. The Light that would for ever shine in the darkness, the dark, hidden places of God’s world bringing hope and comfort to all those people who tragically do indeed walk in darkness,
At the start of this week the spotlight of the media was on the Commemoration of the eightieth anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. A liberation, which revealed to a shocked and horrified world, humanity’s capacity for evil and its ability to create a blackness which it is so hard for us to truly appreciate. We can never know the depth of blackness experienced in those death camps. How can Christ’s Light shine in such places? How can that Light bring comfort and hope? And while it might seem an impossibility, I am heartened by two quotes from survivors from the hell of those death camps. The first by Hugo Gryn: ‘People sometimes ask me “Where was God in Auschwitz?’’ I believe that God was there Himself-violated and blasphemed. The real question is ‘’Where was man in Auschwitz?’’ The second by Diet Emar ‘I had no real communication with anyone at the time, so I was totally dependent on God. And he never failed me.’ This is true faith to find in the darkest hell hole the reality of God bringing the one and only blessing to such places namely the Light of his love to bring a form of comfort and hope. And here we, surely, have to ask whether our faith would be as strong? A question which I pray we will never have to find the answer to but at the same time I suspect that all of us have, at dark and challenging times in our live, found somewhere in the darkness the consolation of that Light challenging the very darkness itself. It needs only to be as small as the smallest candle flame but, if we have faith, if we have trust, it will be enough to guide us through the ‘valleys of death’ which are a part of all our lives. Found the truth of the words of psalm 119 ‘Your word is a lamp to my feet and light to my path’ remembering as we read or hear these words that again it was St John who recognised that Christ as the Word of God, the Word of God who will illumine our life’s journey and flood our hearts with the light of his way.
I pray that as we celebrate Candlemas today we can imagine ourselves as living candles bearing the light of Christ and, just as Simeon bore witness to the reality of that the babe he held with such reverence and awe in his hands, so we too will never cease in our efforts to bear and to improve our witness to the Light that is Christ and thereby help others to find that Light for themselves. The Light that is God’s countenance which shines upon us and all God’s children. What happened in Auschwitz and other camps was truly evil but even there the Light of Christ could not be wholly extinguished. It is and always will be an inextinguishable light which, unlike candles, will never, can never burn out; a light which will never, can never be switched off as we flick our electric light switches. A light that I pray can flood all of our hearts with the light of Christ.
I would like to end with this very simple but deeply powerful prayer of Ann Lewin: ‘With you Lord, darkness is light. Strengthen your light in us until it snuffs out darkness'.
Virginia Smith
Sunday 26 January, Third Sunday in Epiphany
Texts: 1 Corinthians 12: 12-31a, Luke 4: 14-21
As a business plan I think someone like Lord Sugar would declare in no uncertain and forthright terms that it was absolutely ridiculous. ‘To bring good news to the poor; proclaim release to the captives; recover the sight of the blind, free the oppressed.’ Just who does this man think he is? God? And, to start with one immediate objection to the plan, where are this man’s qualifications? Where is evidence of his satisfactory DBS check, his safeguarding certificates, and his medical qualifications? Where is the capital to fund such off the wall ambitions? And what about his work force? Twelve men certainly lacking any relevant experience for what this man is proposing. No, the whole thing is simply pie in the sky and he’d do far better to return to what he does know something about, namely carpentry, and forget all about his impossible to realise dreams. ‘You’re fired!’
But even if there had been a Lord Sugar around then we know that Jesus would have taken absolutely no notice. And the story of his success is truly miraculous. One man with a few loyal followers in an insignificant backwater of God’s earth has, indeed, shown his divine power to fulfil all those seemingly impossible ambitions. He has brought the good news of all the riches God’s love and care for us, his children; a love that has been shown again and again down through the centuries and will always continue. He has, indeed, through his own sacrificial death, freed these same children from the captivity of sin and bought their redemption. The blind, including ourselves, have had their eyes opened to the glory, the wonder and the majesty that is God our Father. Those oppressed by all the trials and tribulations of life have found their oppressive yoke lifted from their shoulders and replaced by a carefully crafted, bearable yoke.
Truly, in our Lord Jesus Christ Isaiah’s prophesy was fulfilled and is still being fulfilled. One man with a seemingly impossible business plan has transformed the world. His twelve simple, poorly educated followers learned from Jesus how they, too, could help fulfil that plan and in so doing drew ever more men and women to become followers, to become disciples. And history is full of their absolute dedication, their courageous determination to continue the work at no matter what risk to them. The martyrs to this cause are numberless beginning with Stephen and continuing to this day as devout Christians refuse to be cowed by threats and cruel persecution. We, I’m sure, all know how so many of those first people to call themselves Christians were persecuted by the dictates of successive Roman Emperors and many thrown to the lions as cheering, jeering crowds looked on. But I suspect, like me, that you did not know that according to expert research it is estimated that more Christians were martyred over the course of the nineteenth century than in all previous centuries combined and that martyrdom continues today; in 2025 when it is reckoned that the yearly number of Christians killed for their faith will lie in the thousands and possibly, even the tens of thousands. Numbers which must surely shock us as we do our best to practise our faith in the peace and tranquillity of the Surrey Hills,
When Jesus confirmed in that synagogue his business plan he surely knew that, once started, however small, however seemingly insignificant the beginnings, nothing could then put a stop to its power to ‘bring good news to the poor; proclaim release to the captives; recover the sight of the blind, free the oppressed.’ And here I found myself reflecting that, in a way, I think God must have a very real sense of humour in that he chose a tiny insignificant planet in the midst of all the wonders of not just one but multiple universes to create a unique world where we, his children, could live and thrive. A tiny insignificant planet to which he sent His only Son with that madcap business plan in his pocket as it were. One seemingly unimportant, humble man who, in his divinity, showed those who would follow him how to live out their lives in imitation of his and help spread the good news of God’s unfathomable love around his world.
And that is what we are called to do, and as our Corinthian reading directs, use our God given gifts in His service so that each of us, in our seemingly small and insignificant way, can add to the beauty of holiness which is God’s kingdom being revealed here on earth. We cannot, and are not expected to, cure all the world’s problems any more than Jesus did directly in the limited earthly space he inhabited for a mere three years of ministry. But, like him, we are called to look and see with the heart, and to listen and hear with the heart. Look for the poor, the captive, the blind and the oppressed; listen to the voices of the poor, the captive, the blind and the oppressed within our own small circle in which we have been called to live out our lives and bear witness to the good news which has been handed down over the centuries, sometimes by saints but more often by simple nonentities like ourselves. Live and bear witness and help play our part in strengthening the body pf Christ. And here I reflect on the wonder of the human body which has its major organs, heart lungs, liver etcetera, its bones and muscles and ligaments but alongside all of these some eighty-six billion neurons in each of our brains which are essential to allow every part of the body to perform its various dedicated functions, And surely that is what we are within the body of Christ? Small but essential neurons, each individual, each with its own gifts, its own part to play to help keep the body healthy. But, having acknowledged this, have we got our own business plan as to how we further the original business plan to maintain that healthy body? What are our goals? What would we like to see as our achievements? What would we like to report back to Jesus as his disciples did after they had gone out in nis name to spread the gospel and heal the sick? Is turning up to church on a Sunday, putting something in the collection, supporting a charity or two and enquiring after each other’s well being over coffee after the service sufficient? Or would Lord Sugar be as dismissive of our limited and unimaginative task in hand and voice a damning ‘You’re fired!’? Maybe we all need to go home and reassess our personal business plans and see just how those God given gifts we all are blessed with can be made to work to their fullest capacity and truly help to continue the building of God’s kingdom here on earth
Within the overall history of mankind what Jesus did in terms of helping and interacting with individuals was minuscule but what he did to change the history of our world and our understanding of God’s love for us is beyond measure. What each of us do in His service is also miniscule but with the right business plan it can and surely will make such a difference to the individual lives of the poor, the captives, the blind and the oppressed whom we meet on our life’s pilgrimage. Individuals like those whom Jesus himself reached out to like blind Bartimaeus, that funny little tax collector, Zacchaeus, the woman caught in adultery and the centurion’s servant, Simon’s mother and so so many more.
May we, by the inner working of the Holy Spirit using our God given gifts, help in the divine work, as so many millions have done before us, bringing good news to the poor; proclaiming release to the captives; recovering the sight of the blind, freeing the oppressed.
Virginia Smith
Sunday 19 January, Second Sunday 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 Said Communion
Texts: 1 Corinthians 12:1-11, John 2:1-11
The story of the wedding at Cana is an intriguing one. The dynamic between Jesus and his mother is fascination, as is the nature of the miracle.
The Gospels that emerged in the first few Christian centuries, under the guidance of God, as the ‘canonical’ ones are very reticent about Jesus’ childhood. John and Mark don’t mention it at all; Matthew goes straight from the Christmas stories to the baptism of Jesus; and Luke has one story of the 12 year old boy in the temple.
Some of the other writings that were circulating among Christians in the early centuries are not so restrained.
They tell stories of a miraculous boyhood, of a child whittling a bird out of wood and then giving it life to fly away. Considering the human temptation to biographies, it is very interesting that the common mind of the Church rejected these stories as not essential to our faith.
There are all kinds of reasons for this, but one thing that is noticeable about the four Gospels that we base our lives on is their drivenness – they tell a story that leads inexorably to the cross, and nothing is included that is not vital to that story.
But the interaction between Jesus and his mother in this first miracle story in John’s Gospel does suggest that Jesus’ childhood was not completely ordinary. Why did Mary expect Jesus to be able to do anything about the empty wine jars? What did she know about him? John’s Gospel does not tell us.
What it does show us is a gradual building of Jesus’ ministry. John’s description, in the previous chapter, of the calling of the first disciples, shows Jesus as an attractive, teasing, compelling figure. People are drawn to him, they know they are at the heart of something wonderful.
And then comes this lovely, happy wedding story. Jesus is there with his friends, who are already, John implies, a recognised group, invited together to the wedding. Mary, the bossy, affectionate mother takes no notice at all of Jesus’ attempt to avoid doing a sign. ‘My hour has not come,’ he tells her, but Mary clearly feels it is her place to decide when his hour had come, not his. She treats him almost like a sulky boy, who just needs humouring and cajoling into performing.
And perform he does. Why does he do it? Only Mary, the servants and the disciples know what has happened. Does it set up all kinds of false impressions in the minds of those closest to Jesus? Does Mary expect to continue to control his ministry? Do the disciples congratulate themselves on throwing in their lot with someone who is going to give them such a good time? If there is any such implied uncertainty in John’s narrative, then the shock of the cleansing the temple, which immediately follows this story, is even greater. The picture of harmony and happiness is shattered as Jesus comes face to face with the reality of the mission and we, the readers, begin to sense the escalation of tension, the beginnings of the mighty conflict between darkness and light.
John tells us that this miracle at Cana was a revelation and a confirmation of faith for the disciples. They saw the exuberant, creative power of God at work in bringing uncomplicated human enjoyment to this wedding. Through the rest of their time with Jesus they had to learn many other kinds of things about God’s power, not all of them palatable, but this streak of anarchic joy is characteristic of God as we encounter him through Jesus.
It is the point that is made for us by the reading from 1 Corinthians. God works in a wild variety of ways, and does not always follow our rules. Although there is an inherent consistency in our encounters with God, we will see it only if what we are looking for is in the shape of Jesus.
The point of our faith is to enable us to say, and live, ‘Jesus is Lord’. Sometimes, Paul tells us, this will be accompanied by very satisfying gifts of power, but they are not the point. The point is to build a worshipping community, made up of people whose lives are directed to God. This community will rejoice in the exercise of gifts that help it to grow, but they won’t care who has the power to speak, or heal, or work miracles, so long as the community as a whole is learning to say, ‘Jesus is Lord’.
To see the Holy Spirit at work, building a people to prise and worship, to recognise this power, this is the true spiritual gift, one that we are all called to exercise.
Amen.
Rev'd Kia
6.00pm Sung Evensong
Texts: 1 Corinthians 12:1-11, John 2: 1-11
What always strikes me when I re-read the story of Jesus turning perfectly ordinary water drawn from a well to premier cru wine is the sheer quantity of wine produced in this miraculous manner. According to modern day estimates, between three hundred and forty and five hundred and ten bottles of wine were produced. Which is an awful lot of wine and far, far more than was needed at what we assume was a simple village wedding with probably no more than one hundred guests. Not only was it wine in abundance but also wine of the finest quality and this, surely, teaches us that we have a God who never ever stints in the abundance of the blessings he pours out upon us and the sheer quality of those blessings. We have a God whose generosity is incomparable, and this is something I think we can all too easily forget. Plus, we have a God who is able to turn the ordinary into the extra-ordinary and this is something, again, I think is something we need to learn from and discover for ourselves. Discover how every day we can come to realise that what at first seems so ordinary, so taken for granted, can, by God’s grace and the inner working of the Holy Spirit, become the extra-ordinary. Discover for ourselves just how abundant and, indeed, miraculous are the gifts God is always ready to give us if we only seek them out.
And I would like, for the rest of this sermon, to look at some of the things that are both ordinary and extra-ordinary and which, again and agai,n give proof of that abundance of blessings God pours out upon us.; things that could all too easily be seen as just ordinary water and yet seen again through our spiritual eyes are so much more.
And here I’d like to begin with water itself. Water, which we are fortunate enough to literally have on tap. We can drink it and wash in it. We take that for granted; it’s just water, nothing remarkable about that. But water is essential to our life on this planet and its well-being. Without water we would not exist; none of this remarkable planet would exist but simply be a dead planet like the moon and that fact alone makes it extra-ordinary. Water is literally life giving and here, in the UK, we are blessed to have it in abundance, Water which is just two basic elements, hydrogen and oxygen, and yet with the aid of water, that very simple compound, we are blessed to see all over this planet which God has gifted us, the infinite wonder and complexity of natural life from the tallest tree to the smallest daisy. And add to these considerations the sheer beauty of water as it flows and sparkles in streams and rivers, tumbles over rocks and cascades down waterfalls. The sheer beauty of the ever- changing seas and oceans, one moment placid and calm the next with towering spume topped waves. Can we ever again think of water as just ordinary, or can we be shown the miracle of both its abundance and its extra-ordinariness? Can we take time to stand, as I like to do, on a bridge over one of the local streams and watch the water flowing beneath and find a spiritual refreshment in so doing? Water so ordinary, so extra-ordinary which we can, guided by the Holy Spirit, give to the thirsty and use to wash clean the sick, the bleeding and the injured.
And next I’d like to think of our hands because Jesus was always using his hands to heal and to bless. Nearly each of us is lucky enough to have two hands and what’s so special about them? They’re just ordinary hands; the hands we were born with, maybe a lot bigger and far more wrinkled than back then but simply another part of our amazingly complex human body we take for granted. But that ordinary hand, which if you’re like me you have never given much thought to, is yet one more wonder of creation with its twenty- seven bones and thirty muscles which are driven by two hundred thousand neurons and with no less than one hundred ligaments. Can a hand ever seem just ordinary again when you stop to consider the almost miraculous craftmanship which enables you to use it? Use it to shake hands with someone, to pick something up, to point your finger at something, to play an instrument or paint a picture, to knit, to sew, to give another part of your body a good itch. How can hands ever be regarded as ordinary again? What other creature on this planet has been gifted with such amazing tools? What they can learn to do is frankly amazing and, for me, perhaps one of the most wonderful things to watch is a pianist whose fingers literally fly over the keyboard at a speed only made possible by what is now understood to be muscle memory. Hands so ordinary, so extraordinary which, guided by the Holy Spirit, we can use to help carry someone’s heavy burden or give them a supporting or helping hand, hands to write a caring letter of condolence or one of congratulations, hands to gently wipe away someone tears or, best of all, hold their hand in ours to bring loving comfort and reassurance.
My last example I have chosen of the ordinary being in fact the extra-ordinary are our eyes. Eyes with which we look out onto God’s world and what we see can just seem often quite ordinary, run of the mill, but if seen with God’s eyes surely all we see is extra-ordinary. The eye, itself which is so complex, with its main parts of cornea, pupil, iris, retina and optic nerve; but add to these no less than some six million cones and one hundred and twenty odd rods. For me, these astonishing figures of seemingly over abundance inspire me to look far more carefully at all I see, for sight is surely one of the greatest blessings which God has given us. Eyes to look out onto his world and barely take note of what we are seeing or, if we choose, eyes which are for ever being transfixed on some wonder of that world. Again, on my walks I often find myself stopping to simply gaze at the sky, be it the clearest blue or bespattered with cloud, or look at the sheer majesty of a fully grown tree which has sprung from minute beginnings. Eyes that can all too easily sum up a person by a quick and quite possibly critical glance or eyes that can see beneath the surface, as it were, and find that, indeed, God himself dwells within. And here I am reminded of this little prayer. ‘May you see Christ in others, be Christ to others, that we may dwell in him, and he in us.’ Eyes so, seemingly, just an ordinary part of each one of us but so extra-ordinary which, guided by the holy Spirit, can indeed see Christ in others, see to both their inner joys and their inner pain, Eyes which can look at one another and exchange the smile of the eyes that lights up both your faces with shared love.
At that wedding feast Jesus turned ordinary water to extra-ordinary wine in abundance. Throughout his life Jesus used his hands to touch the lame and the leper and bring healing to all in need of it; used his hands to break bread and bless it that all might be fed; used his eyes to look out upon his Father’s world and see each person he met as a unique and loved child of God. Nothing he did was ordinary and I pray that inspired by his example we, too, can find the abundance of the seemingly ordinary becoming the abundance of the amazing, extra-ordinary and in so doing discover more and more of the unceasing, immeasurable abundance of God’s love for us and ourselves being spiritually transformed.
Virginia Smith
Sunday 12 January, Baptism of Christ
Texts: Isaiah 43: 1-7 and Luke 3: 15-17, 21-22.
The beginning of a New Year is often a time at which we look back over the year which has now ended and forward to the year ahead. Today Luke’s gospel tells us Jesus’s own baptism. There is no greater new beginning than declaring or reaffirming your faith in God.
The baptism service opens with the words: ‘Baptism marks the beginning of a journey with God which continues for the rest of our lives, the first step in response to God’s love’.
I expect the majority of us gathered here this morning were baptised as babies and cannot recall anything about our first step into faith. We may have seen photos of the event, perhaps of ourselves wearing the family Christening gown surrounded by our parents, godparents and family. The promise to raise us in the Christian faith was made on our behalf and we were welcomed into God’s family.
We believe that Jesus is both fully divine and fully human. As fully divine, Jesus is the Son of God, he is perfect and without sin. Jesus did not need to be baptised. Instead, Jesus chose to be baptised and in doing so he took on the sins of the world. In baptism, Jesus truly became one of us, he shared our human existence on earth, he felt our pain and shared in our suffering. At the time of his baptism, the Holy Spirit appeared in the form of a dove and God’s voice was heard affirming, ‘you are my Son, the Beloved: with you I am well pleased’.
This marks the turning point in Jesus’s life, he begins his public ministry on earth.
But instead of focussing entirely on baptism, I also want to consider the wonderful words from Isaiah that we have heard this morning. I freely admit that Isaiah is the Old Testament book that I return to again and again. The powerful yet poetic text rarely fails to provide me with wisdom or comfort.
Today’s passage comes towards the beginning of what is considered to be the second half of the book, the time of exile in Babylon has ended. A time of hope and new beginnings for the people of Israel, God is fulfilling the promises of his covenant.
God speaks the very familiar words ‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you’. The Israelites had lost everything, were displaced and no doubt felt abandoned and rejected. These were the words of love, and reassurance that they so desperately needed to hear.
Astonishingly the words do not be afraid, fear not or do not be afraid appear 365 times in the Bible. That is one reference for every day of the year, perhaps we ought truly to believe that this is reminder from God to live each day without being anxious.
In our Christmas services, just a few days ago, we heard the angel say: “Do not be afraid Mary, for you have found favour with God”.
Joseph was reassured: “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the Child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”
From the very beginning of Genesis, the Lord appears to Abram in a vision: “Do not be afraid Abram, I am your shield”.
Moses commands the people “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today”.
In Joshua we hear: “Do not be frightened or dismayed for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go”.
And in Psalm 23 the words we are so familiar with from the hymn The Lord is my Shepherd: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil: for you are with me: your rod and your staff – they comfort me”.
To the very end in the book of Revelation: “Do not be afraid I am the first and the last”.
God knows our anxieties and frailty of humanity so well. He patiently and constantly reminds us to trust in him. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you: and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned”.
There are echoes of symbolic components of baptism, the water signifying new life, forgiveness and cleansing. The fire reflecting the candle, the light of the world. The Israelites are being given the opportunity to begin again, to be forgiven and, most importantly, to remember the depth of God’s love for them.
Just as God’s love set the Israelites free from exile in the wilderness, his love has the power to set us free from our worries and anxieties. Isaiah wrote during some of the most tumultuous times in the Bible, they were living in a time of war, the temple had been destroyed, they had lived in exile and were deeply discouraged and losing hope. And yet God was there, he did not give up on them, he was walking alongside them on their journey. We can find parallels between the challenges faced by the Israelites and our own troubled and broken world. We must, above all, remember that God will be there to protect us in difficult times, he will lead us through the storms of life, and he has promised that he will be with us always.
How might our own lives be transformed if we were less afraid….. Isaiah uses the word ‘redeemed’ meaning to be recovered or rescued but the true meaning is to be set free. To be free of the feeling of being overwhelmed, to be free of the need to worry, to be free from being afraid. Why do we need to be afraid when we have been assured that God will never leave us.
The imagery of being chosen by God, called by my own name never fails to astound and encourage me in times of trouble. Isaiah reveals the true depth of love that God has for us, ‘I have summoned you by name, you are mine’.
And even more powerfully ‘you are precious and honoured in my sight’.
If, in the week ahead, we were to take time to remember that we are all loved and precious children of God, called individually by name. If every time we became fearful or worried we imagined a gentle voice speaking to reassure us, reminding us not to be afraid. How different could this week be if we were less afraid, how might that change our own lives and the lives of all those we encounter in the days ahead.
Amber Wood
Sunday 5 January, Epiphany Sunday
Texts: Isaiah 60:1-6, Matthew 2: 1-12
How many of you have embarked on a new year resolution? How many have opted for a ‘Dry January’ and how many have ignored all such initiatives and reckon life can trundle on in its usual way? And here I will be honest and say that in recent years I have not made any New Year Resolutions as the clocks chime the midnight hour heralding the move from one year to the next. But this year I have, and the reason is this. My lovely Granddaughter gave me a pocket diary as well as a delightful jigsaw puzzle which we will do together at some point when she comes to stay. But the problem with the diary is that I had already bought one and started filling in dates and was reluctant just to ditch it. And then I remembered that at various times in the past I have kept a form of diary where each day I recorded something special, something that had given me joy and I resolved that I would once again renew that practice and begin on January 1st by recording the joy of having a loving caring and generous Granddaughter who had given me the opportunity to renew my practice.
It is a practice that I think really helps develop a new way of thinking where, instead of being continually downcast by the news and all the awful things, and they are awful, that are happening in God’s world we look for the good; look for, as it were, proof that God’s love is still very alive and kicking, despite the media’s almost blind perception of that fact. It could be as simple as seeing the first snowdrop to herald the breaking through of spring, or a glorious sunset. It could be the sharing of a good cup of coffee and a catch up with a friend. It could simply be the sense of genuine thankfulness that, in a world filled with increasing numbers of refugees and the homeless, we all have a roof over our heads and food in our fridges and freezers. It could be hearing a glorious piece of music or having a really good book to read. Life when we stop and carefully consider it is crammed full of things which give us pleasure, give us joy, and fill us with a very real sense of gratitude for all that we have been given.
Today we celebrate the Epiphany; the coming of those strangers from a far of eastern land who followed a star to discover the infant Jesus and, themselves overwhelmed with joy, presented him with symbolic gifts Strangers known variously as the three kings, the three wise men or the three magi. Quite who they were or exactly where they came from is uncertain, but they have successfully captured people’s imagination which, among other details, has allotted them the wonderful names of Caspar, meaning ‘keeper of treasure’, Melchior meaning ‘king’ and Balthazar meaning ‘Bel protects the king.’ Over the centuries other traditions have sprung up concerning them, with Caspar depicted as an older man with flowing white hair and a beard who represents Europe, Caspar is younger and deemed to come from Asia or the Arabian Peninsula, while Balthazar became an African king. Such depictions conveying the inherent message that Christ’s incarnation was intended to be for all people, old and young and from all around this earth which God has created for us, and not exclusively for the Jews. And in that fact alone is yet another joy to be added to my diary for today as we recognise the unalterable fact that each and every one of us is a child of God.
But whoever they were and wherever they came from and whether or not they did indeed travel from afar on those camels that artists so love to portray the story of their presence at the birth of Jesus, I think there is one really important part of their story for us to reflect upon this morning and that is in those final words of the gospel reading: ‘They left for their own country by another way.’ And for me this one short sentence has two distinct interpretations. The first is the one given in Matthew that they had been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, which is completely understandable given his reputation for ruthlessness whenever he perceived any threat to his rule, but the second is that their experience of seeing the Christ Child for themselves and recognising his divine kingship meant that life could never be the same again, They had literally been given an ‘Epiphany’, a moment of sudden and great revelation as to just who this child was and, surely, at the same time some form of understanding of God’s purpose in sending his only Son to us and, in that miraculous epiphany, that understanding had been ‘overwhelmed with joy.’ For them there was from now on a new road to travel along when they would share their knowledge, their moment of epiphany with others and help begin the spread of the gospel, the good news of Christ’s coming way beyond the boundaries of Israel and ultimately to the furthest corners of God’s world.
And surely what we are called to learn from the celebration of Epiphany is to recognise that all of us have been called to follow if not a star a definite call to worship this morning and as we too have ‘knelt in homage’ pray that we might experience our own personal epiphany and be shown another clear and distinct, and I hope joy filled, way to live out our lives in this coming year. A way in which we, like the magi, can help spread the gospel, sharing the good news of Christ the Saviour’s redeeming love in this broken and damaged world where other Herods seek to crush and destroy all opposition to their rule. As Christians on a lifelong pilgrimage we are called not to follow the road of riches, selfish gain, envy, greed and power seeking as Herod did, and as so many do, but the road so beautifully described in Colossians as the road of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience. The road that, surely, Christ himself took that led from that humble stable in Bethlehem to the cross on Calvary. A road of discovery if we learn to look about us and discover more and more signs of God’s love bringing light into this darkened world. A road on which we will undoubtedly meet a great mixture of God’s children and, in sharing God’s love with them, hope and pray that they too can, by God’s grace, experience their own personal epiphany of God’s presence in their lives. A road when we will discover the truth of the psalmist’s words: ‘Happy are the people whose strength is in you! Whose hearts are set on the pilgrims’ way.’ There should surely be as part of our Christian witness a willingness to allow ourselves to be shown and to follow another way; another way of sharing our lives with God and with others so that in that sharing we too may know the happiness the psalmist speaks of and the joy experienced by Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar as they knelt in homage before they too returned home by another road and maybe like me you can day by day add such joy to your own personal record of the coming year.
I would like to end with this prayer poem by Ian Adams which so beautifully expresses that call to seek an unknown road at the start of this New Year
This is the moment, this is the day.
You need to commit yourself to a future with no certainties.
To step out onto a road unknown.
Trusting only in the goodness of God,
In the benevolence of the earth beneath your feet,
In the gifts that come your way,
And in the calling that you sense is yours.
And if on this pilgrimage
You are no more than a sign pointing towards the Love
This will be enough.
Step out.
May God grant us all the courage to step out on a road unknown and by his grace help us to point the way of his Love to others.
Virginia Smith
Other Words and Thoughts are on separate pages for :
- 2024
- 2023
- 2022
- Virginia Smith' Homilies May 2022-April 2021
- Virginia Smith' Homilies May 2021-August 2020