We've reached Advent

We've reached my favourite season of the Church year - Advent. Full of expectation, hope, longing but also reality and anticipation as we face who we really are before Christ's kingdom comes.

A new verse for the great hymn, O come, O come, Emmanuel:

O come, O come, Emmanuel;

inspire each one of us who on earth dwell.

Give us the will to open our minds,

‘til your best treasure we do find.

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel, God with us, here on earth does dwell.

DJS November 2011

Remembrance Sunday

I find Remembrance Sunday increasinlgy moving as the years go on. 

Although I would prefer preaceful resolutions, I realise I live a privileged existence due to the fact that others have fought for my peace - both by taking up arms, and by being disciplined and/or killed for choosing not to. It is so complex. 

Below is my sermon for Remembrance Sunday. There is a link at the end to a poem I read at the end, it is very thought-provoking.

Remembrance Sunday 2011

Many of you will have watched the immensely disturbing scenes in Libya recently as Colonel Gadaffi was caught and killed: disturbing because it brought to our screens the reality of how humanity is able to treat one another. Some of you will think he deserved it, some of you will think he should have been tried in a Court of Law, and some of you will think it was good that he was not allowed to have a platform for his views. My father used to say, ‘There but for the grace of God…’ and the conclusion to this statement as some of you will know is, ‘go I’. There but for the grace of God go I: go I, go we, go each one of us.

It is worth remembering that, just as there are those who think Colonel Gadaffi ‘got what was coming to him’, there will be others on the other side of conflicts with which we are involved who think that the members of our Armed Services who are killed get what they deserve too. I am absolutely not saying this view is right; I am simply pointing out for us all the complexity of any of these situations. There are two sides – at least – to any of these disputes.

Thankfully, we do not live within a brutal, totalitarian regime that flouts any sense of the honouring of humanity, neither do we live in a land that readily calls out members of our Armed Forces to quell those who wish to march along the streets of our capital city, or even camp on the steps of St Paul’s. Where peaceful demonstration is held, then it is allowed – subject to the usual red tape constraints, of course.

But there are differing views – always. It would be naïve, simplistic and wrong to suggest otherwise. What do we do about these differing views though? Do we seek by all means possible ways to comprehend, to understand, to come to a conclusion that allows for peace? Or do we – in any life situation in our lives where there is conflict – march in, seeking have our own way – regardless of the consequences?

The reasons for which our country is engaged in each military campaign at present are many and varied, as well as deeply complex. There are those who have thought and considered the various options open to us. What I hope though, in the midst of their deliberations, is that they have prayed. I hope they have seriously prayed – with hearts wide open for the right way to proceed.

It is so easy, when we come in prayer to God to have our mind already made up, to think that we really do know best. We come, without realising it, ready to tell God what God should be thinking, what God should be doing, or even how God should be acting in any particular situation. To do this leaves us entirely closed to the possibility of change, either for ourselves or those with whom we are engaged.

This season of Remembrance is a powerful one for so many. There are those who remember wives, husbands, sons, daughters or other family members who have died – many years ago and in recent years. There are those who remember colleagues and comrades lost in action through the years. There are those who remember friends and family and colleagues who have fought and been seriously injured. There are those who remember women and men who refused to fight, who sought to find another way for the resolution of conflict. There are those who remember volunteers and conscripts who have served in any one of the many Military Campaigns in which our country has been engaged since the signing of the Armistice some ninety-three years ago.

Yes, there were Wars before, and, as we know all too well, there have continued to be Wars since: to testify to this truth in recent years we witnessed the moving scenes in Royal Wootton Bassett as local citizens, and then others, gathered to pay their respects to Service Personnel who are dying even now. The signing of the Armistice was for many, a moment of marking a line in the sand, saying that this was enough, things had to stop, things had to change. Remembering is about reminding. We remember those who fell to remind ourselves about that line in the sand. The Armistice was signed, to bring an end to it all.

When we continue to witness, all these years on, the shedding of blood, we may well ask what to do with this remembering. Is it enough to remember? Is it enough to stand by the War Memorial each year, with so many paying so little heed at any other time of the year? What thoughts might go through our minds as we stand in silence for those two long minutes each year? What will you think of today?

Remembrance Sunday is one of the few occasions in the year when people of all generations, all political persuasions, all religious affiliations, and none, will gather together – sometimes being looked at by others who don’t understand, who are dis-interested, or confused. It is one of the few occasions when many gather to think of others so much more than themselves. It is this sense of thinking of others rather than ourselves which gives us a clue as to what we might think of in those two minutes of silence.

There is no doubt that the reality of the front line was and is grim, it was and is bloody, it was and is terrifying, it was and is death-ridden. This reality cannot be ignored. Another reality may be held alongside this though: that women and men from this country, and from across the world, were willing to think of others rather than only themselves so that the lives of others would be kept safe. These people are not only of the dim and distant past – ones who are apparently forgotten by the passing of the years – these people who think of others rather than only themselves are to be found in our own age too. I have mentioned Royal Wootton Bassett, and, as we know, the honouring of the recently killed Service Personnel, has now moved near to the Air Base at Carterton. People gather to honour those who have thought of others rather than only themselves – people of our own age.

Working for peace is difficult. It is difficult and it is costly. Working for peace means seeking to understand and comprehend the motives of the other as well as our own motives too. It may seem simplistic to say that most arguments, most battles, most wars even, begin because there is a selfish drive by one side or the other to have their own way. The injured party may retaliate, or others may intervene on the side of the injured party, and so it begins.

There is a song that begins: Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me. There are those who have, for the sake of others put these words into practice: by taking up arms, by refusing to take up arms, by seeking reconciliation not just retaliation. In honouring the fallen, in honouring those who sought after peace in other ways, in honouring those who nurse and who nursed, those whose who drive vehicles and those who drove, those who carried messages across dangerous terrain, and those who work in satellite communication today: in honouring them, let us strive to bring to good effect all that they strove for – for peace. Those who we remember today gave their lives for peace, and we do well to remember this, to remind ourselves of this, as we remember them today.

The Crosses, by Bill Mitton

Live with hope

At Church today we had our annual Service of Remembrance and Thanksgiving for the Departed. There were a lot of people in attendance.It is a moving Service, and people always express their gratitude.My message today was that we should live with hope - and here is my sermon.

As many of you will know, the death of someone with whom we have been close, either through family ties, marital love and harmony, brother or sisterly bonds, or simply through friendship, the death of someone close brings with it a whole multitude and maelstrom of emotions.

There may be relief that the person is no longer suffering, if they were ill for a long time; there will be shock if it was a sudden and unexpected death; if the person was young, it can seem unutterably sad, and if they had lived a good many years – and had a good innings – somehow we always would have liked them to live that little bit longer. All of these emotions and thoughts and feelings are completely normal.

That these feelings are completely normal does not make the whole journey of grieving any less an important journey to make though. Sadness, anger, recrimination, guilt, joyful remembrance all have their place and their part as we journey towards creating a new life without the person whom we have loved and lost.

These feelings reveal a tension: we live with the sorrow that they are with us no longer, but also, hopefully, with the joy that we have known them at all, and that they live now in the presence of God.

The questions we ask about ‘where they have gone’, ‘where are they now’ are questions that have been asked through the centuries as people like you and me have sought to make sense of death, in the midst of life. Without realising, we humans do tend to live as though we are immortal!

People have asked questions about what death means for many, many years. The reading we have just heard shows us that this is so. In a Letter written to the people living in the city of Thessalonica almost two thousand years ago, not long after Jesus had died, Saint Paul writes to tell them of what he understands happens to us when we die. The souls of those who have died are ‘caught up the air’ and we, in due course will be with them. As we read: Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. Somehow, God brings our souls to himself – and in doing so, we are held in the love and safety of God’s embrace.

Saint Paul writes to the Thessalonians of this truth because they are unsure, they are obviously wondering what happens, just as some of us might. Paul writes to those who grieve who are in danger of having no hope, so that they might know the truth of God’s care, even unto death, and in knowing this, might have hope restored for them.

When feelings threaten to overwhelm us, it is so easy to lose hope. Grief is a hard and complex journey. It was so for those living in Thessalonica all those years ago and thus it has been for people through the years since. It is important to know that those we have loved who have died are cared for by God, and also that we will be too.

So I, with Saint Paul, invite you to live with hope. Wherever you are on your journey of loss, never lose hope. We heard in the poem an invitation to live, Think of me as withdrawn into the dimness, yours still, you mine; remember all the best of our past moments, and forget the rest; and so to where I wait, come gently on. Those we have loved wait for us. Not in limbo or oblivion, but in God’s presence, and in God’s realm, where we will journey too in our own due time. Live in hope my friends, and never fall prey to despair. Live in hope and trust of the promise of future glory for us all. Amen.

Celebrations

Last Saturday evening I attended a Masked Ball to celebrate the Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary of a couple in my congregation. It was such a lovely event.

The Prayer I composed in Thanksgiving may be found as a Wordle here: Wedding Prayer Wordle

It is always lovely to be part of the celebration moments in people's lives... and a real privilege to be asked to contribute in such a personal way.

I composed a Grace too - to be sung to Tallis' Canon:

For all God’s gifts, for food and wine,

We thank him true, and pray this time

Spent with good friends and family,

be filled with mirth, and jollity. Amen.

It's not fantastic prose, I know... but it made us smile!

The end of a long - but good - day

There is always so much to be done - and the warmth and sunshine of today has made it so much more enjoyable.

We had our School Christian Lunchtime Group today - at which there were 31 children - this is great! It was amazingly noisy though.

I am really excited that young people want to know something more about God, and are willing to give up the time to discover more - especially when the sun is shining outside.

I do believe that if we are willing to put in the effort, then memories are made that are good and positive and contributory factors to the building of community.

Autumn light

This is my favourite time of day at my favourite of year.

Autumn light in the late afternon/early evening makes everything seem so sharp, clear and bright. Making its way through the crimson and gold leaves on the trees, there is a shimmerring quality to it all that makes me smile, makes me nostalgic, and makes me consider that forty four Autumns are not all that many to have lived through.

It makes me wonder if I have seen and relished and understood them all.

This morning was the first Sunday I have woken up to pre-sunrise gloom, and it made me groan inwardly for the dark mornings that are to come. I don't like them. The only highlights will be on crisp mornings when I walk to Church and the light of the street lamps will make the frost on the pavements glisten like diamonds - I like that a lot!

Sometime I shall go out with my camera, and just take a slow walk, and hope that the light will show me a new way of seeing all that is around. The camera lens won't replace my eyes though - it will simply be a tool to try to capture what I see - but even then it is so much about capturing a memory of a time and a place and a smell in the air... like the smell of Autumn dampness, or wintry crispness... all stunning and all inspiring.

Hope...

Have just had our Church Theology Group, today discussing Kenneth Wilson's book: Learning to hope: the Church and the desire for Wisdom. It led to a wide ranging discussion: what is hope, what do we mean by the word, what do we hope for?

As ever, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and I have been left with the familiar sense of wishing there was time to read more and think more. I think a lot already, but having something concrete to grapple with, even if it does send my head spinning around various theological and life themes, is always a good thing... a very good thing!

So what is hope? Hebrew 11: 1 (in various renditions here: Hebrews 11: 1) talks about faith being hope in what we cannot see, but not of hope itself. Here, as we see, to what we might hope in.

Can hope stand alone? Can hope only be in or for something else? And what if we have no hope, does this mean that there is nothing we hope for or in?

And to live without hope - some do, I am sure. And this must be so desperately hard.

If you are living without hope, then I hope (and pray) that there will be some small thing that lights your life today and gives a glimmer of light in the darkness.

The road to hell...

... is paved with good intentions, or so they say.

It is amazing how, in trying to do the 'right thing' and make everyone happy, it is so easy to offend and upset the people who  you would least like so to do.

I have just about managed to avoid offending someone terribly today, whilst seeking to pacify someone else, and it has pained me terribly that I casue offence. I should go with my gut reaction I guess, but on this occasion I let the demands of other people get in the way.


I heard someone say once, 'if you see conflict, walk towards it'. Here I didn't see the conflict coming, but I have walked towards an apology, with alacrity. In doing so, I am hopeful that a right and peaceful relationship will be restored.

The Sunday next before Lent: 2011 - posted in September!

There are times in life when one knows one has become so deeply immersed in the place and path one is walking along that it is ‘taking over’ one’s life – and this week, I knew it.

Speaking with a colleague in the Deanery this week, who is also preaching today, we were looking up the Greek for the account we have come know as the Transfiguration. We were looking particularly the word translated in most Bibles as transfigured – hence the name of the Feast of The Transfiguration we celebrate on 6th August each year, when we hear this account again.

In my trusty Bibleworks computer program, I zipped through the various places where the word transfigured is used, and each time, the result was the same – it could be translated as either to transform or transfigured. Interestingly though, for us anyway, was the fact that the word transfigured is used in both Matthew and Mark for the account of this event, in the Authorised Version, the New Revised Standard Version, and also the New International Version – but not the word transform.

It’s just the kind of conversation clergy have on a Thursday afternoon... and I don’t believe it was even wet!

So why one word and not the other?

Perhaps it is to do with transform being to do with change, although you could say this about transfigure too. However, transform seems to imply a change that is brought about at the very centre, the inside and the whole of a thing, or a person. All is changed. In the account we have before us, the appearance of Jesus is changed. We don’t know what is going on inside, it is true, but we read, just as we do with the account of all that happened to Moses later in the Book of Exodus, the appearance of Jesus changed. Moses’ face was radiant, such that the people were afraid to come near him... here the disciples too are afraid, so much so that they fall to the ground.

There is an external change that can be seen and witnessed, and this external change reveals something of what God is doing, where God is, what God wants to show us.

With Moses, his face was radiant, and the people knew that he been in the presence of God: the Hebrew uses a phrase that I love: The Lord spoke to Moses, face to face, and Moses’ face shone with the glory of God.

Jesus’ appearance is transfigured, his clothing too, and the disciples have the privilege of seeing the glory and splendour revealed in the face, the clothing – the whole appearance of Jesus Christ. As we read in 2 Corinthians 4:6 For it is the God who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

Jesus is indeed shining out of darkness, the darkness of the mis-comprehension of the disciples, the darkness of the rebuke against Peter – get behind me Satan. These are dark and confusing times, just as they would be for Christians in years to come, and it is the account of the Transfiguration that we have heard today that will offer hope and solace to them all.

The disciples witnessed the shining forth of God’s glory in this transfiguring. God’s glory was revealed, Jesus’ glory was revealed. Jesus wasn’t changed – as use of the word transform might suggest if it had been used in the translations handed down to us – Jesus was transfigured so he could be seen as who he truly is. His bodily frame remains intact, his clothing too, but there is light, there is glory and there a new understanding for the disciples, even though they are at first too terrified to look.

I wonder how confident we are to look at Jesus: are we confident, or are we also terrified? I wonder how confident we are to come into the presence of the glory of God as Moses did: are confident or are we terrified? I wonder how confident we are to tell others of what we might have seen or experienced if we have sat in the presence of Christ and experienced something of his power, his light and his glory: are we confident or are we terrified?

A few verses before those we heard read today from the Letter of Peter, he writes, 12 Therefore I intend to keep on reminding you of these things, though you know them already and are established in the truth that has come to you.

Peter reminds the people because he is aware that their practising of their faith is lukewarm and lack lustre. They live as though the Kingdom was an untruth. Peter makes it plain that all that they have heard of Jesus Christ is not mere stories or make believe: 16For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. All that readers of Peter’s Letters have heard of is true, and because Peter affirms he has seen it, he wants these people to be strong and secure in their faith. He does not want them to live out of peace with one another, or with God. Peter wants them to be strong and confident. Peter wants them to be bold. As the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews says, Hebrews 4:16 Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

And this is what God wants for each of us. The transfiguring of Christ was in the presence of the disciples so that they could tell others of what they had seen. This truth is for us as well... so that we can be confident, so that we can be bold, so that we can tell others of this truth.

I began by remarking that there are times in life when one knows one has become so deeply immersed in the place and path one is walking along that it is ‘taking over’ one’s life – and this week, I knew it. I knew it wholeheartedly, and was glad. I was glad, not because it made me feel smart or clever, but rather because I was seeking to gain a deeper understanding of what it is exactly that the Word of God in the Bible we read day in, day out – or maybe not quite so often for some... what it is exactly that the Word of God in the Bible can reveal to us, reveal to us of God.

This is the journey each of us is invited to make. To wrestle with the texts, to overcome any fears we may have, to gain confidence so that we can see Christ in his glory, so that can come face to face with God, so that we can reveal the truth through our transfigured faces and beings.

In encourage each of you, just as Peter encouraged the people to whom he wrote, to be confident, not to turn away. I encourage each of you to come and see Christ anew, to come and know God anew, to come and receive all that God offers anew – this day and always. Amen.

Remembering, and still praying

I've just seen this on a friend's page - an Interiew with Rowan Williams.

There are, so often, no words to say when we pray, and how freeing it is to hear him say so - allowing people space to share the reality of how they were feeling at such a terrifying time.

Sometimes we feel prayer has to be erudite and worthy - but prayer is about who and how we are.

Thank you Rowan for reminding us of this truth.

With continuing prayers for the people of America and beyond who were affected by this tragedy.

Just another manic Wednesday...

I love my role in life.

I love the fact that God has called me to be alongside, and minister to, those who are in times of need and crisis. I love the fact that God has called me to be alongside and minister to those who are in times of celebration and joy.

Our world is an amazing place and our lives are amazing too.

There is a sadness though that so many people live their life not knowing that they are loved, not believing that they are loved, and not believing that they could be loved.

Where does this lack of a sense of being loveable - and being beloved - come from?

Yes - from childhood. Yes - from our parents, our upbringing, the way in which we were nurtured too... all of that, yes. But why is that, as we grow up and mature into adults, we question so many other things but not this un-truth of our lack of any sense of being loved - right in the core of our being and the truth of who we are.

What makes us feel so guilty, or dark and so dirty, that we are so far 'beyond redemption' and so far beyond love.

If there was one thing I could change in the world it would be this: somehow I would change people's self-perception so that they had a true sense of their 'self', and so that they knew that this self was loved and in knowing this would be freed them from an anxiety and ennui that forces them to grapple and fight with others, dragging them down into a mire that conspires with their sense of guilt and darkness and dirtiness.

There has to be a place to start.

Maybe the ministry and the role in which I serve are one place that makes it possible to begin to live and share this truth. I do try... but wish I could do it better.

I pray I can do it better.

Farewells and Funerals

Today we said goodbye to a much loved and highly respected member of our congregation. Taking the Funeral of someone you have grown to love through ministering to them in times of sorrow as well as working with in the day to day of Parish life is hard. Perhaps it shouldn't be, if we hold to the truth of the resurrection and the hope and promise of eternal life.

Someone said as much to me at the 'do' afterwards. "Why so much sadness if what we believe in is true?" It is not whether or not I believe it is true, it the sadness of parting.

I am not sad that this much loved person is with God somewhere beyond my understanding and comprehension. I am sad because I shan't see them any more. They won't be there to laugh with us, to be a trusted confidante, to hear and hold and share our concerns and worries. These are the things that we shall miss. This is what makes me sad.

So this lovely person has died and we have bid her farewell. 

Words with which I closed today:

This is a sad day, a day that many of us will have come to with a sense of disbelief, but I do encourage you, as I will do, to look beyond, as *** did, to look beyond to the hope and promise of eternity. This moment of loss will pass, the pain will ease and the gentle laughter and smile – as well as strength of character that we knew and admired – will be the memory we hold on to and from which we will gain solace and inspiration.

Let us bid our farewells but let us also remember and live and love all that was lovely and good and God-given in *** – and for these things give thanks.