Ash Wednesday 2020

I wrote this for this morning's school service where 90 children came to St Michael's to share in a pared down Ash Wednesday service with ashing. 

I decided to read it again at our main service this evening; we're told to come with the faith of a child and sometimes we need to hear something very simply put.

Ash Wednesday isn’t about thinking of the things we’ve done wrong so we can be reminded that we’re bad people; it’s remembering that God created us from goodness for goodness.

And we get to ask the question why; why, when we’re created good do we sometimes not act kindly, or why do we create space in the world for unkindness to happen?

Today isn’t about thinking that one day we’ll die so that we can be sad; Knowing we will die should help us to see how we should live now.

But we don’t remember our choices and our deaths on our own; we use this day to remember together, as a community, because we don’t live our lives alone, we live our lives together.

And today we apologise together for all those times we chose something that wasn’t loving, that wasn’t kind, and for when we forgot that we aren’t alone; when we forgot that not only do we belong to each other but to God.

Today we recognise together our good and bad choices. We recognise that like God’s wonderful creations the plants and trees we’re capable of amazing beauty if we choose to live lives based in love. Like holy soil nurturing the things which grow in it, we grow in love.

Lent begins today. 40 days and 40 nights to take us up until Easter. 40 days and 40 nights where we think about the best way to live in the world, the best way to use our wonderful gift of a life. 

Let’s just take a moment, a tiny snapshot of time, to stop, to remember and to think of our amazing capacity to love  and to live kind, beautiful, flourishing lives, lives which mirror the love God has for us.

Don't Worry...Take Action

I’m absolutely certain that at some point each one of us would have felt worried. That proper worry that feels like butterflies in your stomach and around your heart. Worry that feels like your blood in shivering in your veins. Worry that invades your every waking thought and stops you escaping it by preventing you from sleeping. Waiting for results of a medical test or exam result, money worries or waiting to hear about redundancy, switching on or reading about the news of political unrest, dangerous viruses or the climate crisis.

Worry it seems is simply part of our lives, we probably experience it every day to a greater or lesser extent. As we have more knowledge of the world around us we seem to be finding more and more things to worry us. 

And how many times does someone see or hear our concerns and say “don’t worry!” Does that ever actually stop us worrying? If those comforting us are Christians they may even remind us of today’s gospel passage. Oh to be one of those cheery or relaxed souls who seems to drift through life without a care, taking life a day at a time. Never stressed or anxious, never overwhelmed. How I would love to be that person.

I wonder if that’s how God created us to be? We hear the creation narrative once more today- order out of chaos, God willing something and it being so…and it being good! Finally God creates humankind and our existence not only makes things good but very good. In the wonder of creation that God is willing into existence humankind arrives and enhances things- our presence makes something wonderful even better. 

Everything is good and everything is blessed. And we begin our role as the stewards, the guardians of all the good things God has created. Only to us did God give not just the responsibility but the ability to care for the whole of creation. 

Yet by the time the Letter to the Romans is being written we can see how much our relationship with the world around us has deteriorated. Creation is groaning and even though labour pains are a sign of something coming to fruition, something about to be born, the process itself can cause a lot of distress. 

This area, where we live, has until very recently been semi-rural. It was amazing for me to grow up in a farming family. We had that relationship to the land, to the seasons and to animals. It never felt exploitative but reciprocal and respectful, as small-scale farming is. I feel that I gained so much from being around the farming community, an understanding of the world and the stewardship role intended for us.

It’s something I think many of us yearn for now with our disconnect from the food we eat, as due to necessity, availability and simply how our lives work we mostly eat and buy food we have no relationship to, no understanding of how and who produced it.

Yet we know that something is amiss in our relationship with creation. Even though it’s incredibly difficult to recognise individual responsibility in it, and often we campaign and work against it, but we see the exploitation of the earth by industry, 

there’s no chance for the world to renew itself as demand and financial markets mean more and more questionable methods are used to obtain and process natural resources, to create artificial resources, to grow more foods, and to farm and process more animals.

We weren’t created to use our power this way. And it’s all incredibly worrying.  The kind of worry that wakes us up at 2am and creates knots in our stomach. But then we read today’s gospel where we have Jesus saying “don’t worry” like that super-chilled-out friend who nothing seems to phase.

Thankfully he’s not just saying “don’t worry” but also giving a pretty good reason why. Because God is in charge, because God loves us, and because this isn’t what God created us for. Jesus is reminding us that worrying isn’t going to make things any better, but this isn’t just a call for us to chillax, take a chill pill or just calm down, it’s an indicator of how we should spend our time and energy instead of worrying. 

But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

I think that our responsibility as Christians is to discern how we can regain or renew our relationship to creation. At a time where some of the organisations seeking to raise awareness of climate issues are on the same government watchlists as terrorist organisations our church has become an important voice in encouraging us to examine this relationship. 

This week the General synod ripped up its original target for the Church of England becoming carbon neutral by 2045 and set a target of 2030. Manchester is committed to the entire diocese fulfilling the “eco church” criteria and we’re committed to that here at St Michael’s. The Archbishop’s Lent book this year is Ruth Valeo’s Saying Yes to Life, a book which addresses these concerns, and Love Life Live Lent has a new version with an emphasis on caring for creation. This relationship with creation is front and centre amongst the concerns of our church.

I don’t know about you but I don’t find this very easy at all- changes aren’t easy, and there’s still so much I need to do, changes to make to my every day life, and sometimes it feels incredibly pointless when I see the lack of work being done elsewhere, or even how difficult it is to stand by these principals working in a hospital environment.

But Christianity has a strong history of individuals living differently, living in a way we feel is in-line with that striving for the kingdom, in a hope that us as individuals may become a group, and that group becomes a community, and as more individuals, groups and communities form they may all strive to bring about that renewed relationship with creation.

As it groans with labour pains we still don’t know what the fruits of that labour will be, but I hope with all my heart that the results of our own worry, striving and labour will be to regain our role as the protectors of creation, that once again humankind’s presence in the world can make it not just good but very good.

Preached 16.2.20 at the main Sunday service, based upon Genesis 1.1-23; Romans 8.18-25; Matthew 6.25-end 

Shine on

I don’t know if you’ve been to a baptism service recently, it’s one of my absolutely favourite things to do. Right at the end of the service we give the family a candle, lit from our Easter candle, and we say these words:

God has delivered us from the dominion of darkness

and has given us a place with the saints in light.

You have received the light of Christ;

walk in this light all the days of your life.

Shine as a light in the world

to the glory of God the Father.

The idea of Jesus being the light of the world, represented by the Easter candle, is a central theme of the baptism liturgy, but then right before we send the newly baptised back out into the world we’re telling them that they carry the light of Christ with them. They too are the light.

We hear this from Jesus himself see in today’s gospel reading (Matthew 5.13-20) where Jesus tells those listening that they’re both salt and light.

My understanding of what it means for us to be salt is salts ability to enhance things. It brings out flavour and preserves, in the bible we see it used to seal covenants or sprinkled on sacrifices. Jesus's followers are to enhance God's world.

Then, as is the baptism service, Jesus tells his listeners that they, not he, are the light of the world.  We’re not mere witnesses to the light, as is John’s gospel, not just the recipients of the light but it’s bearers. It’s our purpose to shine wherever we find ourselves; to shine with the love which Jesus has commanded us to share in his name. 

This sounds like a mammoth task, one we don’t necessarily feel worthy of, we know our own imperfections and the darkness in our own hearts. I read a wonderful quote this week; 

Once you’ve been in the dark you learn to appreciate everything that shines. 

And it only takes a tiny amount of light to be seen in the darkness.

You may be thinking that you can’t be the light because of how much you need that light yourself. The people Jesus was preaching to here felt that way too; they were imperfect people, drawn to the light of God reflected and perfected in Jesus.

There’s a famous Leonard Cohen lyric, often quoted since his death; ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering. There’s a crack in everything.  That’s how the light gets in.

Through our wounds and cracks and brokenness Christs light comes to us and shines into our darkness, through our darkness and out into the world; it becomes part of us so we can’t help but carry it with us, to wherever we find ourselves. We have received the light of Christ; and we walk in this light each day of our life. And we Shine as a light in the world to the glory of God the, Father.