The last day in the Holy Land

The last day of my travels in Palestine and Israel took in the Mount of the Transfiguration – also known as Mount Tabor. It is a mountain that stands apart from those that fill this region, with the others forming chains that form beautiful peaks and troughs along the horizon in every direction. On this mountain, Jesus is believed to have been transfigured so that his face shone as the sun, and the three disciples who he had taken with saw a vision in which Moses and Elijah appeared. It is an awe-inspiring ‘story’, the events of which must have left the disciples wondering what on earth was going on. In addition to this event, Mount Tabor is the site of an amazing battle recorded in Judges 4 in which the Prophetess and Judge Deborah joined with Barak to defeat the Canaanite forces on the Valley of Jezreel. Today the valley is fertile and used for agriculture and the like but, as we drive from here along the road to Megiddo (Armageddon), it was not so hard to recall the fact that the valley must have been soaked in blood over many hundreds of years as the warring factions sought to take control of this region – being that it was part of the well-trodden along important trade routes.

We were blessed with sunshine as we drove away from the Sea of Galilee towards Mount Tabor and the perfect weather continued just until we reached the Basilica on the top of the Mountain. Unless one walks up the mountain from the car park, the route up is via the most tortuous of roads – absolutely not for the faint-hearted of drivers. The series of hairpin bends is shown quite clearly on the map but the map doesn’t reveal the taxi-vans that come hurtling round the corners at a rapid rate of knots, taking unsuspecting drivers unawares. Neither does the map forewarn you that the wall built to protect cars from heading over the precipice in case of slipping in wet weather (or seeking to avoid said taxis) is only about a foot high, so will be of absolutely no use whatsoever if the need to use them arose. Indeed, one of the walls had quite a seriously hole in it, and I imagine it had only barely managed to stop the vehicle that had hit it. Jesus and the disciples will have been far safer walking up the mountain, whilst Deborah (whose namesake town, Daburiyya is at the bottom of the mountain) will, of course, have been riding on her trusty, valiant and noble steed! (Not that I’m biased…)

The Basilica at the top of the mountain is quite lovely. The nave is open so that the remains of an earlier Century Basilica can be revealed through glass ‘windows’ in the ground. Designed by Bertolucci, the Basilica has what I have come to think of as his trade-mark windows. These can be seen in the Church of All Nations, the Church of the Beatitudes, the Church at the Shepherd’s Fields in Beit Sehour… amongst other places. We were lucky in that a large group was just leaving and so were able to be quiet and still in this lovely place on our last day as we made our way back towards the airport.

There were a few other people around and, as I made my way to sit quietly in the nave, there were a couple sitting closely side by side, singing a hymn together quietly. They then sat in complete stillness with their eye closed, praying. My friend and I read the account of the Transfiguration, and it was so powerful to hear it again in this place. (It is interesting the things one notices though – something new each time if one is lucky. On this occasion, it was that Jesus didn’t know what to say to the disciples because they were so afraid. I was moved by his humanity and also his helplessness…) The husband of the couple by this time was taking his wife’s photograph, and I offered to take one of them both together. They then did the same for me and my friend. Of course, then we feel into conversation as I showed them the photograph I had taken of them so calm and still as they prayed and they then told us that it was ten years since they had last visited and that on that occasion, the husband had led the prayers and, as he had done so, he received a vision. It was so lovely to hear them tell of this wonderful gift. (I should mention that they were French and their English so good. I tried my best in French, but was much relived when the husband of my bible reading companion came along and could continue the conversation in much better fashion than I!) the French couple suggested we should pray together, in our own languages, and so we did – praying the Angelus. How lovely it was to be joined in prayer with these complete strangers who were also friends in Christ.

This was such a fitting end to this time I spent in the Holy Land. From beginning to end, there was so much that was good, so much that was both thought-provoking and prayer-provoking, so much that challenged me, consoled me, comforted me, encouraged me. There is much to sift through in my mind and in my prayer. There is much to try to make sense of that has troubled me or made me wonder what faith and commitment to God are all about – and what faith and commitment can lead people to do – both for good and ill – in the name of religion/God/gods. I feel such a sense of privilege for having been able to spend this time in the land that I have come to love so much but I also feel a sense of responsibility to tell the story of my time well, and to tell well the stories of the people I met and the places and sights I saw.

What gifts I have received.

The hospitality of strangers

I know, I know, I have already said more than once that I have a real sense of privilege at being able to be here – both in Palestine and at this hospital. To be given the time for a period of Extended Study Leave (ESL – aka Sabbatical – but not anymore… I believe this is so that there is a sense of purpose about it...) to undertake activities, study, prayer and worship that are both of interest and that ‘call’ to me is a privilege not afforded to all that many people. It is for this reason that I had a sense of wanting to use the time ‘well’ – to ensure that there was no sense of wasting time. As I have journeyed through the first month (and I realised today that it is just past the first month), somewhere inside there has been a deeper call to understand the sense what it means to be ‘one’. Jesus said, “May they all be one…” and I have been trying to comprehend what it means for different groups of people – be they grouped by nationality, faith, denominational practice, culture, race, gender, sexuality… and then there is the cross-over and mix of any number of these all together at any one time. My head has been full of thought (nothing new there for those who know me well!)

 

As each Sunday of my ESL has approached, I have wanted to find out where I can attend Church locally (unlike when I am on holiday and I don’t feel the need to be ‘in Church’ so much). There has been a deep desire to be ‘tethered’. This sense of tethering has felt much more than simply to be somewhere to worship: it is something more to do with ‘being’ with the household of faith to which I belong. It hasn’t mattered at all whether they are Anglican or not – and, in fact, the strangeness of language has, at various points, been lovely to lose myself in, challenging as I don’t know what is being said/sung, beautiful and mysterious and something akin to listening to the speaking/singing in tongues.

 

Having not succeeded in finding a huge amount of information on the net, I decided today to walk into the local community of Beit Jala, see which Church I came across first, and then join them. If the service was to be in English, that would be a bonus!

 

As I came into the outskirts, I pulled out my map and stood trying to work out where I was. A car pulled up and the passenger (a delightful young lady of about 12) asked if I needed help. I said I was looking for a Church – possibly St Mary’s. Her father asked if I wanted a Catholic Church and I said I didn’t mind. They asked me to hop in the car and they would give me a lift. (I should say that I had noticed a cross hanging from the rear view mirror – and any visible cross means an awful lot here than it does in the UK. I didn’t even think at the time that there would be any danger… in retrospect, perhaps I should be a bit more careful!) Anyway, once in the car, I said I was Protestant. “So are we.” said the father. Then I will come with you, said I! Thus I found myself in the Lutheran Church of Beit Jala, on Virgin Mary Street (!)

 

Now, I am an introvert (so what am I doing writing a blog?!) and am more than happy sitting at the back of a Church (like all good … Anglican/Catholics/Baptists – fill in the space with a denomination of your Church!) Alas, the two daughters from the car led the way to the front. Ah well. A few minutes later, the Pastor (Rev Saliba Rishmawi) appeared and with him another Minister. The Pastor came to say hello and asked if I was a Pastor too. "Yes! Ah, you are most welcome. You must come to join us at the front. We should be together and the people will see that we are one. Where are you from? Write it down so that I can introduce you properly. Come. Join us. This man, he is from Sweden.” So, in my pink sandals and carrying my hand bag (I kid you not!) I went to the back with them and formed part of the Procession into the Church (the ‘Procession’ being just us three ministers!)

 

The Service was completely in Arabic – hymns (which we sat down for), readings, prayers – all of it. The Pastor gave the reference in English (for me!) and from the sermon I caught the words, ‘facebook’, ‘like’, ‘I am sick’, ‘ I am well’ and inferred (who knows how) that he was saying something about real relationship. When we talked about it later I mentioned this and he said I was right! Goodness me, the Holy Spirit does indeed move in mysterious ways!

 

Never mind having wished to take my usual place at the back of the Church, I found myself right at the front: “The people will see you and I will introduce you and they will know you are a Pastor. You will help with Communion. They will know you are a Pastor.” What an amazing welcome. As the Service began, I found myself almost moved to tears to be in that place at that time with that Pastor with those people – to be welcomed in Christ as one among many. As the opening hymn began, I leant over to the Swedish minister and said, “Well, this is unexpected.” to which he replied, “It was the same for me last week!” He read one of the readings in Arabic (impressive) and I sat humming along to hymns, the tunes of which I knew but not the words – alas. When it came to the Nicene Creed I was completely flummoxed. You try being a lone voice saying the Creed in English (from memory) whilst everyone around you is speaking in a completely unfamiliar language. It was really weird! In the end I simply kept repeating, I believe in one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. I figured that would have to be enough!

 

At the Eucharistic Prayer, I was invited to say the Words of Institution over the wine, having been preceded by the Swedish minister saying the Words of Institution over the bread. Saliba then repeated them in Arabic – just so everyone would know what had been said! When it came to the distribution, the Swedish Minister administered to one row of people, and then me the next. All of this was amazingly unexpected, and all was simple because the father and his daughters had stopped in their car to ask if I needed any help. As I ‘listened’ to the sermon, I pondered what it would be like if those travelling to Church on Sunday mornings in England – or anywhere else for that matter –were, if they saw people on foot, to pull over and ask people if they needed help or a lift, to discover that they might be interested in going along to Church too.

 

In addition to being welcomed to the Church by name, I was welcomed to participate in ways I would not/could not have expected in a denomination, Church community and country that were not my own. “We are one in Christ. You are my sister in Christ. While you are here, this must be your home,” said Saliba. And so, to my (spiritual) delight, I discover that they are holding a Service on Ash Wednesday which means that I will be able to walk there rather than take a taxi to Bethlehem. Rather like the desire to be tethered on a Sunday, so this desire has extended to Ash Wednesday and Lent.

 

Following the service, I was invited to go with Saliba to take Home Communion to a gentleman and his wife. The poor man is unwell and on oxygen... and in walk us three ministers with Saliba’s wife and daughter, and then three of the Church Elders arrived too. The chap who is unwell seemed to take it all in his stride! Out came cake, chocolates and Arabic coffee… there was much laughter and then, in the midst of it, a time of quiet calm for prayer and the sharing of the bread and wine.

 

My planned visit this afternoon to Bethlehem was put on hold as it was raining (and I was wearing sandals) and so I returned to the hospital was given an impromptu lesson in Arabic over lunch.

 

It was a morning of rich blessings and I have been challenged and consoled as to my welcome and hospitality of strangers. There has been much today to both learn from and receive – in so many good and wonderful ways.

Put a couple of liberals together and the world is put to rights

What an amazingly thought-provoking forty-eight hours it’s been, with the most intriguing encounter possible taking place on the Temple Mount this afternoon.

I discovered that the Temple Mount is open at present (although only for selected periods of the day) whereas whenever I have visited Jerusalem before, it has always been closed. I joined the queue and made my way up on to an amazing vista. Such space as that can’t be encountered anywhere else in the city. If you look at a map of the city from above, you can see how much ground the Temple Mount covers, but to be up there – in person, as it were, was quite something.

My encounters with some of the Muslims on the Mount varied, from the man who shouted at me, “Not you!” as I vaguely approached the entrance of the Al-Aqsa Mosque (having been able to freely visit Mosques in Istanbul, I knew here would be sensitive, but I wasn’t anticipating being yelled at!) to the women who were more than happy for me to photograph them in their wonderfully colourful clothing as they chatted and passed the time of day and onto the Managers of the Temple Mount who were happy for me to enquire about the provenance of the headscarf the older man was wearing.

At the time I visited, the Mount was open for just an hour, and so there was a sense that time was limited. With my trusty Guidebook, I walked around the Mount – away from the crowds to see what was going on elsewhere. There were boys playing football, people sitting chatting, children crying, young boy is chanting, “Allahu Akbar” – only to be outdone by a group of men who started to call out louder. In addition to one woman I saw praying near the Dome of the Prophet, there were men near the Golden Gate area who seemed to be studying and talking about the Qu’ran. This area is closed off to anyone –including Jesus! According to Jewish tradition, this is the gate through which the Messiah will make his entry into Jerusalem when he comes and so it was blocked up completely by the Muslims in the 16^th Century. (We won’t mention that Christians believe he’s already come once and won’t actually need a gateway when he comes again, shall we…)

Smoking is prohibited on the Temple Mount, as is kissing in addition to showing signs of affection. Visitors are to dress modestly and behave appropriately. I wonder then what would have been made by the encounter I had with a Liberal Jew and the conversation that ensued…

This chap, whose name I never did ask (very rude of me), had drifted into my sightline a few times: I’d noticed him because he was wearing a T-shirt with a small-ish Star of David motif on it. As I was taking a photograph of the Dome of the Ascension, he came over to me and asked if I knew what any of the things were that we were looking at. I explained what the particular feature in front of us was – and that I didn’t know who had ascended from there, but went on to say that Christians believed that Jesus had ascended from the top of the Mount of Olives – and that there is a footprint on the ground (I kid you not!) At this point, the chap asked if I was Christian, to which I said yes, I  asked if he was Jewish – which he was. We walked away from the Dome of the Ascension as there was a woman was obviously getting quite cross at our (non-believer) eyes inspecting this place and who began gesticulated quite clearly that we should get lost!

The conversation that followed ranged through various topics to do with faith, belief, practices, Inter-faith dialogue, clothing, expectation and disappointment of faith communities, how many places in which St Mary is meant to have died (or not, if you believe she was assumed into heaven). The chap was from Toronto, where his father is a Rabbi – also quite Liberal. Apparently the local Cardinal (I think it was a Cardinal!) is a friend and so was recently invited over for a Friday night Shabbat meal. How cool is that?!

At one point I remarked how amazing it was that a Jew and Christian should be standing on the Muslim site of the Temple Mount and having such a conversation. This chap (to whom I really ought to give a name – let’s call his David), so… David said that at his Synagogue, in May, there is to be an evening at which three Doctors of Theology – one Muslim, one Christian and one Jewish (and all women) – are to speak on ‘The things that bring us together and the things that divide’. I commented that I wished I could be there… Toronto in May – that could be possible, maybe?!

What a wonderful encounter… it really made my day! Oh, and the Dome of the Rock is a wonderful place too…

All this has led me further in thinking about whether there needs to be a physical place where God resides, and why it is that I love to visit this land. If Jesus promised to be with us always, and also gave us the Holy Spirit as our Comforter, then is there any need for a ‘place’ at all?

When I attended my Selection Conference for Ordained Ministry, I was asked how I knew there was a God. The chap who asked me seemed to an ‘okay’ person who was genuinely interested in me and my ‘story’ (rather than there being any sense of him being someone who was seeking to trick me) so it felt alright to look him in the eye and say, “I can’t tell you how I know there is a God, but what I can tell you is that I feel it, here in my heart.” It seemed to be enough… but, it is so hard to put into words, isn’t it?! There is a place within me where I know that God resides because I feel it. There is a place within each one of us where God resides. It’s not a place that is in any sense limited or limiting – to us or to God – but it is a place where God lives and God ‘is’.

So, no, I don’t think God does need a ‘place’ in which to reside, although we may need a place to be to become aware of God more fully and deeply and God may choose to reveal God’s self to us in particular ways, times and places. You may have a place already, you may wish to discover one. Look for it, seek it out – what you find may surprise you. Know this too though, the grace of God is within you – a grace that allows for continued exploration and expression, continued questioning and doubt, continued hope and faith, continued growth and transformation.

May your coming day, like mine was today, be filled with surprising encounters – encounters that make you think, that make you wonder, that make you hope, and also that make you glad to be alive.

Trinity 11: Do not be afraid

In the past few days I have spent a lot of time reflecting on the whole notion of fear: what it means, what terms we use - being scared, terrified, ‘be afraid, be very afraid’ – and what makes one experience tip over to a different level of fear?

Last Sunday evening some of you may have watched Dr Who Live – when the actor who is to play the 12^th Dr was revealed. Many of you will, like me, have had the experience as a child, of watching Dr Who from behind hands cupped over your eyes as the Daleks made yet another unwelcome appearance on the scene; this was scary stuff – and I was often afraid.

Some of you will recall the fear I experienced when I was told my father was seriously ill and journeyed with him through his rapid decline towards. Each time I visited him I feared it would be the last – and I still weep when I talk of his last days. They were peaceful, but oh, the aching fear of losing him.

We will each have different experiences of the things that frighten us – and I think one of the hardest things to admit as a Christian is that sometimes we are afraid. We know we aren’t meant to be afraid – because ‘God is with us’ and, ‘Jesus has walked the way before us’. Still though, for many of us there are times when this emotion dominates all. It is my experience, and I imagine it will be so for some of you too.

What do we do then with this disparity of what we feel and what we are apparently told not to feel?

We hear today of God telling Abraham and Jesus telling the disciples not to be afraid. ‘Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.’ ‘Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’

In context, Abram has already accepted the invitation of God to journey out into the desert. Abram and his wife Sarai have nowhere else to turn – except back, perhaps. They are old though, and they have no children; they have travelled to a different area to their main travelling companion. They are far from home, in the wilderness with no-one to care for them in their advancing years. We, with them, might well ask, ''What hope is there for them?'

It is into this situation of apparent hopelessness that God speaks, ‘Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.’ Now Abram has trusted God already – can he trust him still? Is there enough evidence to testify to the truth of God’s promises upon which to base an on-going trust? The promise of descendants more numerous as the stars I find most moving – and I wonder what Abram made of this. In a nation where the gift of children was so important, this promise of God’s must have been beguiling. Was there evidence enough though to trust God – and overcome the fear of death in a desert, fear of death with no children to follow, fear of appearing foolish to those who might hear of them in years to come?

Evidence is something we all desire, let’s face it – and I don’t imagine Abram was any different, nor the disciples either.

The disciples were told, ‘Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’ They are told not to be afraid in the face of Jesus inviting them to live a different kind of life, to walk a different pathway and to turn their backs on the ways of the world that demand treasure and glory in this world rather than in the next.

Rather like the way in which Abram had been asked to step out into a different kind of existence from the one he knew, the disciples were being asked to do the same. Giving up their worldly possessions, not relying on the goods and belongings that this world holds as valuable, trusting in God to provide for their needs – this was counter-cultural and demanding. How had Jesus proved himself? What evidence had he given his followers that his word was trustworthy and that the promises he made were ones that could assist them to put their fears aside?

These are the kind of questions so many people in our world ask – and we may well ask them too. What evidence is there? How can I trust when I am not certain or sure? What do I do when I am afraid?

I offer three points to lead to an answer.

Perhaps the first thing to notice is that God notices: God notices Abram is afraid and Jesus notices the fear of the disciples. God gives heed to our experience and faces it head on. God knows Abram must be afraid, Jesus knows the disciples must be afraid: God knows the reality of our existence and knows that there will be times of fear and anxiety. I believe it is empathy with our experience that makes God speak into it.

Secondly, God calls Abram by name and Jesus calls the disciples his little children. The relationship God has with each of us is one based on intimacy – where God knows us and responds in love to our needs. Jesus says, it is the father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom – love and continued blessing is what God desires to give us – always.

Thirdly and, perhaps, most importantly for us who come after – God makes good on his promises. God sticks with it and with us and brings good things to us – in time and in eternity. God doesn’t make the bad things go away, but God walks with us in the “night time of our fear” as we sing in the lovely song, ‘Brother, Sister let me serve you.’ Abram received what was promised to him, and the disciples continued to grow in faith and understanding, as well as being able to perform amazing miracles and teach people amazing things.

So being afraid is real, being frightened is real, being scared is real. The call to not be afraid is not a call to dismiss our fears but rather to let God be in it all, with us – in the messiness and confusion – for it is where he longs to be and where he has promised to be: “Lo, I am with you, even to the end of the age” Jesus said to the disciples – knowing something of what was to come to them as they travelled to share the gospel.

So if you do have times of fear – and I do too – remember these things: God notices you, God knows you, God wills for your good. Things may not change quickly; they may not change much at all – but God is right in there with you, whatever is going on. The reality of our human existence means that fear is part of life – but we do not have to go it alone.

One of my favourite verses is: 1 Corinthians 10:13 No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.

The ‘way out’ for me is living with the knowledge that God loves me – unutterably and beyond measure. It doesn’t mean I am never afraid, rather it means that I trust God is on my side. I pray that, when you are afraid, this is something that you also may be able to believe. Amen.

The way of faith - Lent 3 2013

We capture today, across all the readings, the reality of some people being in and some people being out. Some are caught up into heaven and eternity whilst other are left far behind – having been found wanting and somehow irredeemable. These are hard things to hear – unless, of course, one is in the business of judging and condemning and living with a sense of being ‘holier than thou’. Righteous condemnation masquerading as righteous indignation, perhaps – and all on God’s behalf because, of course, we can do it so much better than him – all things considered.

If we begin at the beginning, with the reading from Isaiah, the earliest of the texts written, we see that there is an invitation. There is an invitation to drink of the water that money cannot buy. There is a call to change from the current way of living to seek that which is on offer for just a while: Seek the LORD while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts;

            Whether or not the love of God is on offer for just while only is a matter for debate – for God’s time is beyond our own – the call throughout our readings – and through time – is to change the focus from that which is immediately attainable around us every day to that which is also immediately attainable but from which we so often turn our gaze. Let the wicked forsake their way and the unrighteous their thoughts. Who are these wicked? Who are these unrighteous? I guess we might say the members of al-Qaeda who seem so intent on killing those who are not of the Muslim faith. We might also say those who are members of gangs in South London, who carry knives and guns so that they can get ahead of any who stand in their way. We might say the ‘fact cats’ of the financial world who cream of the profits to award themselves fat bonuses.

These may appear to be caricatures, and we may prefer the ways in which Isaiah speaks into the human condition in all the varying ways with which we seek to fill our lives with meaning: work, food, money. However, how ever nicely we dress these things up – the fear that we will never have enough, that others will have more than us, that we will not be good enough in whoever’s sight is held to be the most powerful on that given day – how ever we dress these things up, they are as nothing compared to the hope that we may have in God.

Alas, the apparently meaningful preoccupations and self-preoccupations that are preferred by so many are, ultimately, meaningless. This is something that the writer of the Book of Ecclesiastes knew all too well. If we read the opening of his Book: “Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.” The only thing that has meaning is God’s love and God’s supreme power. We may look for other things, we may gain other things, but it is the love of God that is over and above them all.

So what difference does knowing this make then? You are here, I am here, and we get it already – right? Perhaps so, but the reading we heard from Corinthians makes salutary reading if we think we have it all sown up. As we read: I do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, that our ancestors were all under the cloud… all passed through the sea… all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, ³and all ate the same spiritual food, ⁴and all drank the same spiritual drink… they drank from the spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ. ⁵Nevertheless, God was not pleased with most of them, and they were struck down in the wilderness. They did things right, it seemed… and yet, God was not pleased with most of them. It’s like saying to a child after Parent’s Evening: Your teacher said you are doing really well, but you could try harder. Well, almost like it, I imagine!

We catch some glimpse of what has gone wrong: ⁶Now these things occurred as examples for us, so that we might not desire evil as they did. ⁷Do not become idolaters… ⁸We must not indulge in sexual immorality… ⁹We must not put Christ to the test… ¹⁰And do not complain…” What sad examples for humanity, for so many of us walk so close to these very things as well.

The reason for recording them though: ‘¹¹These things happened to them to serve as an example…’ There are things that will come to try us, there are things that will lure us away for a while, there are things that we may prefer sometimes. If this is so, we are warned fully here:  ‘¹²So if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall.’

I preached a fortnight ago about observing Lent. For the first time in a long time, I have given up something for Lent – and it is proving to be hard work. I have taken things on too – and these are proving just as hard. Lent is nothing though compared to the whole Christian life – a way of being that is actually about giving up many things. It is about refining ourselves with the grace and power and love of God so that we will not be like those who followed but fell, like those who believed but whose faith was not enough. Lent, as with the whole of life of faith, is a time of testing, though Lent may be more about proving to ourselves that we can do it than to God: we test ourselves in a simpler fashion – or not – to remind ourselves of the greater, longer, test upon which we are all embarked: the test of being found fit for heaven. Do we carry knives or guns? Probably not. Are we members of al-Qaeda, intent on killing those who do not follow the faith we follow? Probably not, but the history of Christianity is pretty bloody, when we face it. Do we take vast Bonuses on top of our Salary or Pension. This one might sit rather closer to home for some who worship here or in other churches near here.

‘Judge not less ye be judged’ is a good maxim to live by – but sometimes we fail to judge just ourselves. These are hard words to hear, and I know colleagues who are preaching today who have also found this message to be unpalatable. Judgement is not just about condemnation though – it is about being honest. It is about discovering where we fall short and letting ourselves be honed and made pure and lovely for God. Paul writes: ‘¹³No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.’ The question is always, do we believe this? Do we believe that God is not only our judge but also our great reward? If we do, then we are blessed beyond belief – and the challenge and the test is to remain close to God’s ways. If we do not believe – or we fear the judgement more than we hope – then the promise Isaiah heard is the first thing to reach and out grasp to ourselves: ‘I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.’ Let God love you fully, with abandonment and without reserve, so that you might do the same to him.