Sermons
The Third Sunday of Lent - 23rd March 2025
Come, those who are thirsty
Isaiah 55: 1 – 13, Psalm 63: 1 – 8
One of my very favourite scenes in any film I have ever watched is in the musical “Oliver”. Poor little Oliver has been falsely accused of pickpocketing and when he collapses in court he is rescued by kindly Mr Brownlow and taken to his home.
There he is bathed, fed and sleeps in a warm, comfortable bed for the first time in his life. He is woken in the morning by the cries of the street sellers calling “Who will buy?”
They offer ripe strawberries ripe, sweet red roses, two for a penny” and Oliver, standing on his balcony, sings “Who will buy this wonderful morning?”
Musically I love it and the scene is beautifully choreographed, but Oliver’s sheer delight in all that’s going on is what makes the whole song memorable for me.
I
was reminded of that scene when I read the opening words to today’s reading from Isaiah. Here, it is God who is calling out “Hark; everyone who thirsts, come to the waters”. “Who is thirsty, come to me”
But He is not selling the water; He is giving it away for free.
He is also offering food to everyone; there is no charge.
He offers water and bread, the necessities of life; and he also offers wine and milk, the luxuries in life.
He is giving out all the good things we need and also for those who respond to his call, life itself.
In this parable from Isaiah, God is not only the street seller but also the rich benefactor.
Someone wishing to be generous would buy up the entire stock of a water carrier or baker and order them to distribute it for free.
God does this; not just once, but continuously. His generosity is unmatched.
In our gospel reading, there is another parable.
This time Jesus talks about a fig tree that has produced no fruit.
Fig trees were often planted in vineyards, alongside the vines, in order to be a decoy for the birds. To protect the grapes, it was hoped that any birds would be attracted to the richer fruit of the fig tree and so leave the grapes alone. Because once a grape had a small peck in it, then it could become infected and useless so the figs were a deliberate distraction to protect the crop.
For some reason this fig tree has not grown enough and has not produced any fruit. The owner wants to cut it down as it is useless but the gardener asks that the tree will be given one more chance.
He will tend it carefully and then it should grow as intended.
He is generous and gives the fig tree time to reach its potential.
It seems to me that we often forget or perhaps take for granted,
God’s generosity. The Bible is full of stories or themes where this is demonstrated. Who can forget the wedding at Cana where the water is turned into the best wine the guests have ever drunk, and there were six large jars of wine left over at the end.
In our Psalm this week in our Lent course, Psalm 63, we will look in more detail about how God is generous, his loving-kindness and how we respond to that.
Do come along and we can spend time thinking about all that He has done for each one of us.
This generosity may be seen in what God gives to us, or how he treats us, and how he gives us time to grow in him; to mature and produce the fruits of the Spirit; love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
God does not just provide both the staples of life and the luxuries;
he also offers the gift of life itself. Bread and water, wine and milk – these may be necessary and pleasurable but they are not enough if all our energies are focussed purely on them and what they stand for and how we may obtain them.
Ultimately we will not be satisfied.
Only in coming to God and listening to his Word – the Word that is Jesus – will we receive the greatest gift from our generous God,
“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly”
God cries out to any who is listening “Come to the waters,
come; buy and eat, Come to me, listen so that you may live.”
In the beginning of John’s gospel the invitation is heard again;
“Come and see”.
Let us this Lent, respond to that call.
Amen
Ruth Cook, Reader
The Second Sunday of Lent - 16th March 2025
Restore by grace your own image within us & may I speak your Truth & Love
We have to speak of the past when preaching but we try also to speak of the present.
We are including the psalms this Lent in our readings on Sundays and in our Wednesday night’s Sharing And Learning Together (SALT).
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom then shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life
Of whom then shall I be afraid?
The opening words of Psalm 27 which we shall listen to next Wednesday. What is God like? He brings us Light and Strength and as a result rescues us when we are down, lost, bewildered and afraid. He saves us and lifts us back into the safety of his Love. His Love is always with us and for us, despite our enemies, ‘evil foes’, those who would trouble and harm us.
When I first met my wife, then a nurse in London, she would quote Underneath are the everlasting arms (Deuteronomy 33.27). It gave me comfort and the knowledge that we were not alone. We were being held like a mother holding her child, supported by a loving God. We shall not fall or drop off the planet. But in return we have to trust Eternal Love.
One mature man, getting old, but assured by the Lord that he was to be the father of many people, as many as the stars he could see in the sky, was Abraham (Genesis 15). Yet he still lacked that one thing: a child, an heir, the first of the promised descendants. Abraham was impatient: he had begun to doubt God’s word. Yet God was saying to him, ‘Wait. Trust me. I promised you a son not a substitute heir. The boy will come in my good time not yours. Wait patiently and you will see things unfold my way.
We get impatient, we are in a hurry, we start complaining or doubting what we are led to believe will happen. The psalms had not been compiled or used in Abraham’s time. But we have them and their words of comfort and hope. Wait for the Lord; be strong and he will comfort your heart. Wait patiently for the Lord. (Psalm 27.17 Common Worship)
As a child I remember once in London having to wait outside the Army and Navy stores in Victoria Street until my mother turned up, which she finally did. But until she did I felt alone, abandoned, left behind. Waiting alone can be difficult.
Nowadays I like to give thanks for so much: for my creation, preservation, and all the blessing of my life. And one such blessing has been working with, and knowing for over fifty years, Roger Harcourt, whose funeral we attended on Wednesday. He was a headmaster for thirty years in Buntingford, Herts and wanted the best for his students. He taught Hopkins and T.S.Eliot to the bottom English sets as well as to ‘A’ level students. He would take anyone who wanted to come to his school including those expelled from other schools. He produced a school Shakespeare play every year and encouraged sports and all the arts to flourish. In 1977 he invited pupils and staff to attend an August Stratford camp where every play that was on was both talked about and seen. Those camps ran every year until last August.
He was a churchgoer and committed Christian; a churchwarden of Strethall church where he also gave readings of novels and poetry in the church. He did all this with the love and help of Joan, his wife, his children and grandchildren. In his retirement he suffered from ill health but recovered from cancer before later getting another form of cancer. How he suffered and yet continued to love life and try to be there for others.
The picture that I hope you have is a painting by Fra Angelico. It was made with tempera on panel in 1438 and is of the Suffering Christ (my title for his crown of thorns). I found it recently on the Christian Art website. Today it speaks of Jesus’ sufferings. To me also of Roger, Joan and his family, and all they have had to endure. But it speaks also of all those you and I have I known, especially recently, who have suffered, endured and are no longer with us. Keep the picture, if you want to. Fr. Patrick van der Verst, who chose it, is going to use it throughout Lent. I will use mine to remind me of Roger, Big Rog, and to give thanks for all he gave and meant to so many.
Jeremy Harvey
The First Sunday of Lent - 9th March 2025
You may have come across that Radio 4 programme, “Young Again,” in which the presenter, Kirsty Young, interviews a well-known personality along the lines of a simple question: “If you met your younger self, what advice would you give them?”
I guess most of us look back over our lives so far and recognise that, at different stages, we were almost different people: different issues, problems, priorities, responsibilities and so on. Different frustrations too – they’re always with us but they change subtly.
The younger generation are meeting the pressures of life perhaps for the first time. Education soon gives way to the job market, these days, without much of a guarantee of success no matter how many qualifications they possess. They tend to resent being told what to do by the older generations as they have yet to build wisdom through experience. Yet they have a fresh pair of eyes on the world, where those of us who are older haven’t always made the best job as the economy changes, expectations shift, technology develops, not always helpfully, and the climate crisis looms larger than ever. It is easy to feel alone and misunderstood.
By contrast, some of us are beginning to regard the TV character, Victor Meldrew, less as a figure of fun and more one with whom we identify. Newly retired and trying to find his place in later life, he reacts with incredulity towards the modern world with that catchphrase cry, “I don’t believe it.”
For myself, as I grapple with AI when I want to speak to a human and online forms which provide set answers to select from that don’t adequately express your situation, I can certainly see the change from the angry young man to the grumpy old man. Maybe you do too.
But either way, whether young or old, life seems to leave me feeling angry. And when I feel angry, I also notice that I am feeling afraid. And when I feel afraid it is usually because I feel vulnerable, with the age-old choice: fight or flight.
The story of Jesus’ temptations in the Wilderness are important not just because they are an exercise in how to deflect temptation. Neither are they simply an exercise in how to think of power and authority, identity and what it means to live out the Kingdom God. The story is also important as an exercise in human vulnerability.
In the Church today we tend to go on retreat just before a particular time or event: before Advent and Lent, or before a new vocation such as ordained ministry. We all need time to think before we move forward.
Here, Jesus does it the other way round. One minute he is among the crowds in the buzz and activity of that exciting religious revival building around his cousin John the Baptist. Then there is the experience of his own baptism, and the voice from heaven giving the imprimatur – a launch even – on the world-changing ministry of his own. Next, he is in the Wilderness: a dry and waterless place, inhospitable and given to extremes of temperature. And he is there, not because of a wrong turn or a dodgy satnav, but because the Spirit of his Heavenly Father has brought him there.
Yes, there is thinking to be done, but the immediate emotion must have been loneliness. He wasn’t called to be alone. He was called to make a difference to people’s lives. Yet here he is in a place that is not very nice, devoid of other human beings, and feeling very, very vulnerable.
And he is also hungry and thirsty. The Wilderness, of course, was not given to food outlets, not even a shop… not so much as a kettle… all of which increases his vulnerability at a time when he really needs to think. And we all know what it is like to have to think or turn over difficult choices in our minds when we are hungry or thirsty. We begin to wonder why we’re not making much progress and then we realise and act. That rock must have looked remarkably like a loaf as a desert traveller sees the mirage of the water hole on the horizon.
Meanwhile, remember again that the Wilderness is a lonely place. There he was, commissioned by his Heavenly Father to save the world. Nice job. Pity there was no job description, he may have thought. How on earth am I going to go about it? As he grew up, he would have had plenty of experience of the teachers of the Law, those who guided the religious life of his people. And he was young. Little experience to go on, and maybe a real fear of getting it wrong, of only having one shot at the task. Another vulnerability to cope with. He knew that change was needed, but the status quo must have felt awfully reassuring at that time. And that would play straight into the enemy’s hand.
The other thing you need when you’re in a vulnerable place is a little encouragement. Affirmation even, that, with time, becomes recognition. But there was no one there in the Wilderness to provide it. Maybe in the heat haze, the man in the red suit took on the form of the man in the sharp suit, the successful man, who says, “If you want to get ahead, you do it like this…”
We are all taught that Jesus was fully God and fully man. When you earth that theological idea in real life, you get a human being who experiences life just like we do, with all the pressures, anxieties and feelings of vulnerability that we do. It is what we call the Incarnation.
Look at it like that, and Jesus’ wilderness experience becomes no different than our own. For we all have our wilderness moments when we feel alone, hungry for purpose and direction, thirsty for fulfilment, but at the same time oh so afraid.
It is good, this Lent, to have the opportunity to look at the Psalms of the Old Testament. Written many centuries ago, they remain just as authentic a record of human experience as they always have. Times change, cultures change, but people don’t change. Their needs stay the same. In the Psalms you will find something for every human condition: the joy of Psalm 150, the despair of Psalm 22; even our darker moments when we have feelings we may not be too proud of – look at Psalm 58 for example, when you get home, and you will see what I mean.
Psalm 92 is the one to look up when we’re feeling in a vulnerable place. It is a tool kit for survival.
First there is the fundamental truth on which we need to build everything else…
“You (Lord) are my refuge and my stronghold, my God in whom I put my trust.”
It is in and because of that refuge, that stronghold, that, “there no evil shall happen to you.”
There is protection in the hidden Armies of God…
“(The angels) shall bear you in their hands lest you dash your foot against a stone.”
See how Jesus uses Scripture to overcome his vulnerability.
“I will protect him because he knows my name,” When we know God’s nature we learn to depend upon him, so that, “you shall tread upon the lion and the adder.”
We may not escape our vulnerability. That is part of the human condition. But the loneliness is ultimately illusory, for…
“He shall call upon me and I shall answer him,
I am with him in trouble.
I will rescue him and bring him to honour.
With long life will I satisfy him,
And show him my salvation.”
The Psalmist knows where he is with God. In the midst of vulnerability, he is nonetheless secure. He will survive.
That’s good news indeed, and when we’re in a mess I think it sort of helps, don’t you?
Amen.
Rev'd Preb. Robin Lodge
Ash Wednesday - 5th March 2025
Texts: Joel 2,1-2/12-17; 2 Cor.5,20b-6,10, Matthew 6,1-6/16-21
Those of you who work, or have worked, with computers may be aware of the acronym, “WYSIWYG” – or (spell it) meaning, “What you see is what you get.”
You only have to have used a computer to know that they can be remarkably stupid things at times. They take everything literally. There are no nuances – what you see is what you get. AI may do things differently in time, but, by and large, if your average computer doesn't do what you want it to, you’ve probably got something wrong!
As the other expression in computing goes – GIGO, (spell it) or, “Garbage in, garbage out.” And it’s us, not the computer, that supplies said garbage.
Usually.
In short, it helps if you think as the computer thinks.
I suspect that much the same applies to the spiritual life, but, like your average computer user it is not always easy.
Take the hypocrites, for example, as referred to by Jesus in our Gospel reading just now. And for hypocrites, by the way, read Scribes and Pharisees, although as the prophet Joel points out it, it applies to all of us really.
The Law said they had to give alms. So they did, and in doing so, made sure everybody knew about it.
The Law said they had to pray. So they did, and in doing so they made sure everybody could see how holy they were.
The Law said they had to fast. So they did, and in doing so made a point of looking as miserable as possible so everybody knew about it.
Right actions. Wrong motive. Wrong result. God not happy.
In fact, God is not only unhappy, he’s pretty much peeved. He knows very well it’s all for show. What mattered most for these officials of the community was the optics. Their faith – and at that point, God – was reduced to a cynical means of maintaining the system. With them at the centre.
Throughout the Gospels, Jesus draws alongside sinners with love and hope. It’s hyprocrites – the double standards – that he cannot stand.
As if to underline the point, Jesus praises the lowly, the unimportant, the humble…
Almsgiving is a matter between you and God; quiet time apart with you and God as the heart of all prayer and worship; and fasting with a cheerful heart.
Right actions. Right motive. Right result. God happy.
In fact, God is so happy that these humble, lowly people, who know their need of God, have a rich reward waiting in Heaven.
We are intended to note the connection between knowing our need of God and the rich reward in Heaven.
In other words, if you think you’ve made it, you probably haven’t. If you know you have a way to go, God will be with you as you go, ready to lend a hand.
We make a big thing of penitence in this Ash Wednesday service, and that is right and good. But, if you notice, you don’t get very far in your average act of worship before you are invited to confess your sins. Best to keep short accounts with the Almighty, and, anyway, with that stuff out of the way, God is able to do something with us.
In the end, it’s all a matter of where you place your trust. Do you place your trust in the here and now; in wealth, in power and in popular acclaim? Or do you place it in the Kingdom of God, with its values of sacrifice, service to others and love rather than self as the driver in all we do.
Whether you are a world leader of a particular ilk, or just plain old you and me, the reality is the same…
What you see is not necessarily what you get…
…and garbage in, garbage out is a fair old guide to how we need to live, not only in Lent, but in every part of our lives.
Amen.
Rev'd Preb. Robin Lodge
The Second Sunday next before Lent - 2nd March 2025
Think of somewhere you go often, or a route travelled most weeks or days. It might be the journey here to church, or into town. Not the lovely walk in the country you enjoyed the other week, something more routine. For me it can be the journey to and from church. Whether on foot or by car, I wonder how many times I’ve been up and down that hill in the last 15 years. If I’m honest, at times, it can get a bit boring.
So, here's a challenge for us all when we make those journeys…
Look where you are going!
Now, on one level we all do that. Thinking of the half dozen or so pedestrian crossings within a couple of hundred yards of the church, you probably wouldn’t have made it here in one piece unless you had looked where you are going, not to mention the odd lamp post, road sign and kerb stone on the way…
But do you really LOOK where you are going?
And if you do, what do you notice?
The trouble with those routine journeys is that they become something so second nature that we can do them without really thinking … or at least while we are thinking about something else. And that’s when we miss things.
For example, next time you’re in town, look up. Look up above the shop fronts and see the architecture of the buildings those shop fronts are attached to. There is a variety of design and style that is really quite impressive and can tell you loads about the history of that place… how it developed, and unfolded, and changed over time.
It’s all in the detail: the buildings, the people and their different lives, the weather and how they are behaving. All sorts.
In the countryside, it’s usually easier… easier to see the flowers, the leaves, the colours, the wildlife, and, most importantly, the changing seasons. But even here, it’s easy to take it all for granted, until one day a developer gets their hands – or rather their yellow diggers – all over it.
Talking of nature, when the Bible refers to the Transfiguration, it is using the Greek word, metamorphosis. We use that word too, and it means something that changes into something else: the caterpillar into a butterfly, the seed into a flower, the tadpole becoming a frog.
Peter, James and John saw a man called Jesus and followed him. Up on the mountain they saw the man who was God. And it was awesome. Quite an experience. Definitely not routine. And definitely not boring. It was indeed, as you might say, a metamorphosis.
But then they went down the hill.
Now, remember the other week, if you were here, when you had a picture of Jesus on the Plain. Remember how we reflected that mountain tops were places for meeting God, but the plain was where you met the reality of the ordinary and the everyday. In this case the boy possessed by an evil spirit. Perhaps today we might want to say a sufferer of epilepsy, or some other condition given to seizures. The perfect gives way to the imperfect; the holy gives way to what would have been seen at the time as unholy, for imperfect people were not allowed to come too close to God.
Happily for them, God chose to come close to them.
Jesus is irked by his disciples’ inability to deal with the problem. He is frustrated by their lack of faith. Now, you might say that at least they had a go, and you might have a point. But Jesus’ point perhaps is that maybe they didn’t really see what they had before them. And, anyway, time was growing short. Still so much to do.
The Transfiguration story is placed in the Lectionary here for a very good reason. On Wednesday we begin the season of Lent, and the journey of reflection towards the cross begins.
All the disciples, but particularly Peter, James and John would very soon have a lot on their plates. From this moment in the Gospels, the cross, too, looms into view. There is a definite change of gear… a change of mood. Very soon they would be left to lead the new Christian movement, tasked with witnessing not only the cross but the resurrection. It was a good moment for them to see the vision behind the reality. To see Jesus as he really is. They needed encouragement. They needed to know that God himself had their backs.
Because there is another side to the story, which brings us back to caterpillars, seeds and tadpoles. Sort of…
So there they all are, back on the plain, face to face with reality. The ordinary stuff of life; life which includes people that are in a mess for one reason or another. People who are frail – or indeed problematic – because they are ill, or sad, or marginalised, or forgotten or ignored, or even not very nice. People who need a bit of metamorphosis of their own.
The great thing about the caterpillar is that it has the capacity to become a butterfly. The seed has the capacity to become a flower, and the tadpole has the potential to become a frog.
Perhaps Jesus is noticing that his disciples are seeing the boy possessed as a problem. But Jesus sees the boy who is given back to his parents made whole. It is the same boy. All he needed was a bit of metamorphosis… a bit of, you might say, transfiguration. Jesus saw the potential of a sick boy made well.
You will have heard of the expression, “love is blind.” We usually say it of a partner or a relative of someone in whom we can see little good.
But it may be that love isn’t blind. It merely sees the potential of someone to be something else. You could say – indeed, we must say – that God sees in us, and in all people, the person they are called to be. He recognises our potential and longs for us to grow into it.
Earlier, we heard how Moses reflected the light of the presence of God. He wasn’t the first, and he wasn’t the last. We’ve all met people that simply ooze light – that is, the love of God. And when they do so even in the midst of very difficult or even tragic circumstances, it is a most profound experience, for we witness holiness in human form.
The Transfiguration means that all of us have the potential to shine like that. For most of us it comes with time; it flickers on and off, but it is there. If we all in some sense reflect the light and love of God, we all have a value. And that is a very different message from the one given out from much of the world around us. But we have to be open to seeing it – to see others as God sees them, even and especially people we do not like.
To do that we need only do one thing. We have to be like Peter, James and John…
We have to stay awake.
Amen.
Rev'd Preb. Robin Lodge
The Second Sunday before Lent - 23rd February 2025
Sermon 23-02-25 - “Calm me Lord”
Today’s gospel begins with a very understated phrase “One day he got into a boat”.
It seems like an ordinary day; no festivals or even the Sabbath. But just one day Jesus decided he would go out with the disciples and have a peaceful time fishing.
The weather was lovely; Peter and Andrew and the others were stripped to the waist, doing what they loved most and Jesus had a well-deserved rest.
Mark tells us that he went to sleep on a cushion; very comfortable and relaxed.
And then, out of the blue, a storm blows up. This was not unusual as squalls often did occur on the Sea of Galilee and the disciples were used to this.
But what was this storm like? It must have been very violent and threatening for these seasoned fishermen to take fright as they did.
The boat is filling with water, their attempts at emptying out the bilge are getting nowhere and they know they are in danger of sinking.
And so, as the storm rages on and they are panicking, then they cry to Jesus for help.
Jesus, is still sound asleep, and possibly the only non-fisherman on board.
He wakes up, and I picture him, stood up in the boat, with his hands over the seas and he orders the wind and the waves to cease. There is calm.
The disciples are amazed and question who it is that can still this raging tempest but they do not recognise that it is He who made the seas and the dry land at the formation of the world.
He was there on the third day of creation when God said, “Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.
God called the dry land “Earth” and the waters he called “Sea”.
Jesus asks them “Where is your faith?”
Why didn’t they know that they were safe with Him in the boat with them?
We too have ordinary, normal, routine days when life suddenly throws up a storm out of nowhere. We too can suddenly be frightened or scared by bad news, or an accident, an illness that has seemingly come out of the blue. How do we react?
Do we know that Jesus is with us at all times and he is control?
Or do we feel he is asleep, doing nothing and ignoring us in our hour of need?
How many of you remember the song “Will your anchor hold in the storms of life?”
It was a song we used to sing with great gusto and was the Boys Brigade hymn;
they had a symbol of an anchor on their banners.
The first verse has these words:
Will your anchor hold in the storms of life,
When the clouds unfold their wings of strife?
When the strong tides lift, and the cables strain,
Will your anchor drift or firm remain?
We have an anchor that keeps the soul
Steadfast and sure, while the billows roll,
Fastened to the Rock which cannot move,
Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.
Although the disciples should have called on Jesus first, rather than the last thing they did out of sheer desperation, they did call on Him for help.
What makes us feel safe and secure? Where do we set our anchor?
We too can call on Jesus whatever life throws at us; when we are unnerved by these unexpected and unwelcome events in life. If we know Jesus in the good times,
we can rely on him in the difficult times as well.
He will respond; he will calm the storms in our lives, if we only turn to Him.
As our response, let use these words.
Calm me Lord as you calmed the storm;
still me Lord, keep me from harm.
Let all the tumult within me cease;
Enfold me Lord, in your peace.
Amen
Ruth Cook, Reader
The Fourth Sunday before Lent - 9th February 2025
The reason I am standing here today goes right back to a conversation between my mother and the local vicar in a small town in North Dorset around 50 years ago.
My parents were not particularly religious. They didn’t go to church, except when my step-grandmother came to stay. Then there was no question! But they were both confirmed. It’s what you did. The respectable thing to do. It’s not that they didn’t believe, but God was an “out-there” sort of being. Someone to be believed in. Someone whose moral code was more of a good idea than a call to active faith.
Our Vicar was called Father John, by the way. Not the Father John, late of this parish and of blessed memory to some of you, though equally instrumental, I suspect, in getting people moving.
So, my Mum said to Father John…
“Vicar, it’s about time my children were confirmed.”
And he replied, “Mrs, it’s about time you came to church.”
Actually, that wasn’t word for word what was said, but you get the picture.
Quite direct was Father John. His preaching could be a bit like that too. Rather striking. Really quite striking. So striking, in fact, that I looked at him in the pulpit one day and said to no one in particular – though God was clearly listening…
“I’d like to do that job.”
And that’s how I come to be standing here today.
Everyone’s way into the life of faith is different. For some, there is a definite moment of call. For others, it’s more of a process and can take a while. But looking back, you can often see how God was preparing the ground over time and circumstance.
Take Peter and Paul, for instance…
Paul was a zealous man. Very zealous. In fact, he was so zealous that he spent much of his early life rounding up members of the brand new Christian movement and throwing them into jail. Indeed, he became rather good at it. He didn’t have it, of course. He could have stayed making tents. But there was something about this young pharisee that made him a man of action.
And God must have thought to himself, “I’d like to have some of that on my side, I’d better introduce myself to him.”
Which he did, on the Damascus road. Shortly after Paul fell off his horse.
Peter was more of an ordinary guy. Not a craftsman but a fisherman. And definitely a lot thinner on the theological education front. But he too was a man of action, though more do or die than Paul’s preach and be damned – except that it amounts to the same thing, namely dedication and faithfulness.
Had Jesus picked him and his brother John out of the crowd on that beach? He certainly picked his moment. There they were, a bunch of tired fisherman, out all night and just back having caught precisely nothing. That’s the moment that Jesus picked to say, “Why don’t you have another go.”
I do wonder whether we have the polite version here. After all, there are certain circumstances when the question, “why don’t you,” is going to be met by a very different question, also beginning with the words, “Why don’t you…”
So why they did we shall never know. Was it out of respect for this maverick religious teacher who was already beginning to make a name for himself? Or was it that he had seen something they hadn’t?
Of course, Jesus had indeed seen something they hadn’t, but it wasn’t fish. It was two new disciples. So they put out from the shore, and rest is, as they say, history.
God certainly picks his moments. Sometimes he has to, just to get noticed. It may not be a time of our choosing, but it usually comes with some manifestation of God’s glory, whether an event or a turnout of events, or simply a penny-dropping moment, but in any case a moment when, in some sense, we suddenly stand before God knowing that there is no avoiding the matter: we just have to respond.
Like Paul faced with a bright light, a voice from heaven and bruised dignity, not to mention the odd bruise in various parts of his anatomy.
Like Peter faced with a catch bigger than his imagination, or anyone else’s for that matter. I bet it took a while for Zebedee to sort that lot out as his two sons set off with Jesus along the shore.
And, like Isaiah, a courtier of the King of Israel, called to spend his life telling uncomfortable truths to power after a momentous vision of the greatest throne room of all, that of Almighty God.
He is also a reminder that God’s call doesn’t come so we can sit back and say, “I’m alright now I’ve got God as my mate,” not that there was anything matey about Isaiah’s vision. Yes, God can get up close and personal in a very special way, but God remains God, and we would do well to remember that. But God does all this because he has a job for us to do. It won’t always be easy, though it can be compelling. Paul, Peter, Isaiah, all played their parts. All different, but all with something special to bring to God’s purposes for good in the world.
We, too, can experience that kind of call. Indeed, all are invited even if not all respond to that invitation to be witnesses to God in the world. It reminds me of a little postcard, designed for teenage bedroom doors, which bore the words, “Many are called but few get up!”
In his letter to the Corinthians this morning, Paul’s driving inner force is to be a witness to the Risen Christ. His Damascus road experience was different from Peter’s experience of the Empty Tomb and lakeside breakfast with his post-resurrection Lord. Reading between the lines, there is a sort of poigniancy, a feeling of having missed out, masked by a certain defiance in his assertion that he is a as good as all the rest. We are, after all, formed by our experiences.
But we are not to compare ourselves with others. After that lakeside breakfast, Peter says of his brother John, “What about him, then?” And Jesus says, “Don’t worry about him, you follow me.”
And that, folks, in the end, is the nature of the call. We are all different. We all have different ways to contribute to the Kingdom of God, both inside and outside the Church. We are not to worry about other people’s call. We are also not to worry about whether we are good enough.
Like the burning coal applied to Isaiah’s lips, God will sort that one out. Our focus must be to trust in God’s mercy, his love and his empowering and respond in faith to the One who calls us by name and find in ourselves the courage to say…
“Here I am, Lord. Send me.”
Amen.
Rev'd Preb. Robin Lodge
Presentation of Christ in the Temple - 2nd February 2025
About 20 years ago I decided to do one of those Lands End to John O’Groats trips. You know, the sort of journey people make with a wheelbarrow – or roller skates – or by walking backwards.
Being a bit boring, I chose to do it by bus. It took 11 days and 43 buses, including a rest day in Buxton. It was a Sunday, so I went to church in the morning and Sheffield in the afternoon. Well, why not?
I had intended to travel between the other two corners, so to speak, from Dover to Cape Wrath. Just to be different. But you can’t get to Cape Wrath by bus. There isn’t even a road. At least, not a very good one. The nearest village is Durness. But to get to Durness by bus you had to make it to Inverness by Wednesday night in order to catch it early the next morning. And when you get to Durness you had a choice: you can stay for 20 minutes. Or you can stay for one week and 20 minutes.
There is very little to do in Durness.
It might be a stereotype, but it seemed prudent to stick to the usual route.
But I still want to visit Cape Wrath. I don’t need a week there. 20 minutes will do, and we shall go by car.
I say we, because Sue and I have it on our bucket list. A retirement project perhaps – along with the rest of the North Coast 500 route, which has sadly become really quite popular in the intervening time…
We know very little about Simeon. We don’t know about his family or what he did with his life, or even whether he had a bucket list or indeed what was on it. Except for one thing…
He knew he would see the Messiah before he died. He knew because God had told him. Whatever else he did, he led a life of prayer and contemplation, seeking always the things of God. And if you do those things, you become much better at trusting in God. Mind you, he was getting on a bit. Not much time left. But he knew it would happen.
And one day it did. Probably quite unexpectedly. There was no waking up with the alarm that morning and thinking, “Hmm… today’s the day.” What there was, was the usual round of prayer and contemplation, and being in that place where he felt safest… where he belonged … where he felt closest to God.
Because that’s how God works. We just bumble along doing our thing, but because our hearts are open to God, he has a habit of turning up. And that can be life changing.
Anna also had a life changing experience. It was when her husband suddenly died when she was probably in her twenties. Domestic bliss was exchanged for widowhood, not to mention vastly reduced means and severe restrictions on life’s opportunities. No bucket list for her.
But instead of getting all bitter and twisted at life’s raw deal, she put God on her bucket list instead and headed for the Temple. There she stayed for years and years and years. Just waiting on God and expecting him to turn up. So, when he did, she was ready.
Now, it would be easy to end there and say. Stay close to God. Be ready. And who knows what God will do?
But there is one more thing I’d like to reflect on, and that means going back to our Old Testament reading, to the Prophet Micah.
“See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple.”
If readiness is a theme here, it seems that it only extended to old Simeon and Anna. Nobody else was ready. The Lord did indeed come suddenly to his Temple but no one else noticed. Happily, it was not their only chance, but, sadly, that didn’t work either.
Because the idea of the Lord coming suddenly to his Temple got me thinking about the other times the Lord came to his Temple. There were plenty of them.
Today’s story sees Jesus as a babe in arms, with the stable birth and shepherds’ visit still very much in mind – the wise men yet to come.
The next time the Lord comes to his Temple he is 12 years old. He sits and listens to the Teachers of the Law. They are impressed with his maturity, as well he might be … until he gets told off by his Mum for wandering off. His remark that he must be about his Father’s business seems lost on the morning breeze.
Apart from this one story, the years from 3 to 30 are lost. Hidden, certainly. But in his public ministry Jesus comes to the Temple many times to teach. Some of them we hear about, but there is one that stands out in my mind.
It occurs in Matthew, chapter 21. It is the last time Matthew records Jesus performing a healing miracle. In a fit of righteous anger, Jesus ejected the traders and money-changers operating too close to the inner precincts of the Temple, and doing so dishonestly.
On his way out, he encounters the blind and the lame, who were confined to the outer precincts, known as the Court of the Gentiles, by virtue of their disabilities. Instead of barring them from God’s presence, he makes it possible for them to go in. An attitude quite at odds with the prevailing customs of the day. Very soon, through his passion and death, Jesus would make it possible for all to approach God through the forgiveness of their sins.
The courtyard of the Caiaphas the High Priest was probably sited on the eastern slope of Mount Zion. Not the Temple itself, not far away. It is where Jesus is brought for before the Sanhedrin after his arrest. You could argue this is Jesus’ last visit to the Temple – symbolically at least - in that he stood before those responsible for it. Again, he is misunderstood, accused of blasphemy and condemned, a political sacrifice – one man for the nation – to keep the Romans sweet and themselves in power.
So Jesus is crucified, buried and rises again. A new dawn and a new future lies ahead beginning, not in the Temple but in a garden – and in Galilee, the place of his home town Nazareth, a small, unremarkable town, from which Nathaniel questions grumpily of Philip whether anything good can come.
It is here that Jesus walks and talks with his disciples before his Ascension.
There are no resurrection appearances in the Temple. God has finished with that. Henceforth, his Temple – the temple of the Holy Spirit – is within all who believe in him.
Jesus still comes to his Temple. We can encounter him in the pages of Scripture. We can encounter him in the silence of our prayers. And we can encounter him in the sacrament of bread and wine.
The Lord still visits his Temple. The question is, will we notice?
Amen.
Rev'd Preb. Robin Lodge
Epiphany 3 - 26th January 2025
Ways of Looking
Back in 1978, after heavy snow, walking up from the station to Bishop Fox’s, I soon realised there were hills around Taunton. Returning I could see the Blackdowns in the distance. Taunton was somewhere where you could look up and see hills. I will lift up my eyes unto the hills. From whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord. (Psalm 121). Those became favourite words which I would share.
Looking out from King Artaxerxes’ palace in Susa, Nehemiah who was his wine bearer and taster, mourned in shame for his captive people and the fate of Jerusalem whose city wall was broken and its gates destroyed by fire. His master asked, ‘Why is your face sad, since you are not sick? This can only be sadness of the heart.’ He told him how his city was desolate. ‘What do you request?’ Nehemiah prayed before answering the King. He asked if he could return to his home city and rebuild it. ‘How long will you be gone? And what will you need?’ Nehemiah told him and he was given leave of absence and the necessary travel passes and means of getting supplies of wood, etc.
This was about 445 BC long after the sack of Jerusalem of 587 and the taking of Jewish people to Babylon. Jump now to our reading (Nehemiah 8). Despite opposition from nay-sayers, Nehemiah proved a determined and bold leader and set people building. He organised teams often whole families from near and far and made all involved responsible for a strip of the wall. The High priest and his colleagues built the wall at the Sheep gate. Next to them the men of Jericho built and next to them Zaccur the son of Imri. (3.1-2) And so on right round. The city walls were rebuilt in 52 days.
Then on the first day of the seventh month the people were gathered in the square before the Water gate to hear the scribe Ezra read from the book of the law of Moses (the Jewish Torah), their bible. Ezra read from early morning to midday and the Levites helped the people to understand what they heard. It was a holy day and the people were told ‘do not mourn or weep.’ ‘Eat the fat and drink sweet wine’ and share food with those who have none. ‘Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.’ (Nehemiah 8)
It is a great story and very readable – and you can skip the lists of who does what! It’s a story of a death and resurrection: not just for Nehemiah and Ezra and all the leaders but for the people. The people were called back to practise the beauty of holiness. Who has read the book of Nehemiah, the 16th book in the OT? And Ezra which precedes it? Both give vivid accounts of the Israelites beginning again in their own land after their long exile.
If you don’t currently read your bible, please read it and so let the living word of God speak to you. Jesus was nourished on the Hebrew scriptures. He is invited to speak in the synagogue at Nazareth. He stands and reads from the scroll of the book of Isaiah. As his followers we can follow his example and learn so much about the ways and wonders of God from the Holy Bible.
Th bible is a collection of 66 books of all sorts of things, prose and poetry, long and short. We are more familiar, I suspect, with the NT but to understand the NT we need to know what led to the coming of Jesus. Look up Nehemiah’s account in the bible. Read your bible a little a day. Ponder what it has to say. Do not look away from your bible.
It’s best to read the bible with help such as a commentary. Many use some sort of lectionary/reading scheme. The BRF and Scripture Union have good aids for daily reading. It is even more fun when read with another person or persons when questions can be asked and findings shared. You won’t regret letting the bible speak to you and for you. You may wonder why you ever feared its message or its effect on you. Reading the bible will help you to look at the world with new understanding. At its heart is the amazing mercy and love that God has for all creation not just us.
A word about ways in which we learn. Forget IQ levels and all that but consider these four ways in which we learn – and I am not an expert here – which are known as audile, visile, motile and tactile. Audiles hear and have gifts to do with hearing: think of musicians, broadcasters say. Visiles are more visual and include writers and often teachers. Motiles have to keep moving and do not want to sit still all day: atheletes, doers, for example. Tactiles have a strong sense of touch: they are weavers or make things, invent. But we all have these ‘parts’ to us and have to use all four at times. Know your strengths in learning and so make use of them. How you tackle the bible will depend on your combinations of these four ways of learning. I know that I am very visual but my auditory side is strong too.
Jesus said look out for those who hurt or are on the margins! Love your neighbour as yourself. He came to befriend sinners and hopes we’ll share his concern for those suffering.
Jeremy Harvey
Baptism of Christ - 12 January 2025
“Well, so that is that.”
So remarked the author W.H.Auden on taking down his Christmas decorations after another year.
It is a sentence that has a sense of finality about it. An ending. And ever so slightly a touch of, “Now, what was that all about?”
For many, January can be a dark and dismal month. Christmas has come and gone, the ordinary is back and it’s no lighter in the evenings than when we put the decorations up. Any thought that, just maybe, a bit of tinsel and turkey might make life more bearable crushingly disappears. It is often a crisis point for those suffering with their mental health.
The trouble with us is that we live in a town. We go down to the Parade and see the lights, the tree, those terrifying illuminated reindeer, and then, suddenly, they’re gone. The world around us seems to confirm our own mental forecast. Bleak, beyond bleak.
But in the countryside, you’re more likely to come across the antidote. Tomorrow is Plough Monday – the first Monday after the Epiphany, which we kept last Sunday, although technically it was the day after, 6 January. Originating in the 15th Century, it was the custom the day before – Plough Sunday – to bring a plough into church and say prayers for the blessing of human labour, tools and the land they work. Like many natural opportunities, there are echoes of all sorts of customs, many of them about folk religion as much as Christianity. But it is about the rhythm of the year. It is about how life is wired up.
Plough Monday is a natural opportunity because for after the glitter and glitz of Christmas, those who work on the land then look forward to the new crop and the new harvest that follows on. Whatever we’re feeling the natural cycle of life go on. If we would live securely, we’re wise to tag along. Cut off from that cycle we are alone, isolated, devoid of meaning.
It is also an opportunity to look back and look forward. And, today, our Gospel reading does the same.
We hear again of John the Baptist.
Remember how John turns up in Advent. Last month we heard him crying out in the Wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord!” We also heard him being questioned by the Scribes and Pharisees about his identity. We may have also recalled the circumstances of his birth, and how his whole story pointed to the coming of the Messiah.
And now, the baby in the manger is suddenly the one of whom John declares, “I baptise you with water: but one who is more powerful than I is coming…”
In this way, John too gives us an opportunity to look back and look forward.
The glitter and glitz of Christmas proclaimed the arrival of the one whom John prophesied. And that light now shines on the one who takes us forward from the baby in the manger, with all his glory, into the realities of the lives he came to transform.
“I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals,” says John.
Yet suddenly, here is Jesus, emerging from the crowd, and standing in line before him to be baptised. The One who is worthy stands in the need of the one who is unworthy.
It is the very epitome of Emmanuel: God with us.
God – with – us…
Not over us, apart from us, against us, but with us.
Which is exactly what Christmas is all about, and it is that light that shines on long after the tinsel is back in the loft and the carcass of the turkey has gone for compost… the light that shines into the darkest of Januarys – and into the darkest corners of our lives.
And another thing…
It’s good to belong. And in baptism we do. We belong as co-heirs of the Father through his Son… restored, forgiven, sanctified, and, above all, loved.
I like to think that, at their baptism, God says to each child of any age who receives the sacrament at the font…
“You are my son… my daughter… my beloved. With you I am well pleased.”
Whatever life is doing with us right now, we have a great deal for which to be thankful.
Amen.
Rev'd Preb. Robin Lodge
*******************