Chaplaincy Nativity and Carol Service

I'm, sure many of us are missing out on a traditional nativity and carol service this year so we'd like to welcome everyone to our Chaplaincy carol service which you can enjoy from your desk! This will unashamedly mirror the sort of family crib service Andrew and myself might have in our parishes, or maybe the Nativity plays your children or grandchildren have taken part in.

We're going to sing some much loved Christmas carols and hear what happened all those years ago on that first Christmas. We begin with O Little Town of Bethlehem

Let's set the scene for how our story begins.

Luke 2:1-5: In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to register. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child.

So the journey has begun, a perfect opportunity to sing Little Donkey.

Our little donkey has taken Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem and Mary is very close to giving birth. Let's see what happens next in the story.

Luke 2:6-7 :While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

Now Jesus has been born, not as you’d expect a king to be born in a palace or castle but in the place where the animals sleep. To reflect on that we sing Away in a Manger.

Let's hear about some other unexpected characters who join in the story of that first Christmas.

Luke 2:8-16: In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them: ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying: ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favours!’ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another: ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.’ So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.

As the shepherds have come to worship Jesus we’ll sing our next carol, See Him Lying on a Bed of Straw

Now anyone familiar with the Christmas story knows there are some more guests yet to arrive in Bethlehem. 

Matthew 2:1-2 and Matthew 2:10-12: In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking: ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Of course we now need a carol about the wise men, it has to be We Three Kings

And so that was the first Christmas. Mary and Joseph travelled to Bethlehem, where Jesus was born and visited by some unlikely guests. But it’s not the end of the story, not by a long way, in fact it's just the beginning. Jesus is going to do amazing things, and Christians believe he still does amazing things in our lives and through our lives. To prepare for some prayer time we sing Silent Night.

Let us pray

Jesus Christ, born in a stable,

Be with the poor and homeless this Christmas time.

As we pray, live and give;

shine your everlasting light.

 

Jesus Christ, born of Mary,

Be with young mothers across the world this Christmas time.

As we pray, live and give;

shine your everlasting light.

 

Jesus Christ, visited by Shepherds,

Be with all who have to work this Christmas, and those who long to work.

As we pray, live and give;

shine your everlasting light.

 

Jesus Christ,

who became a refugee,

Be with those who fear for their lives, and those who have left homes and families this Christmas.

As we pray, live and give;

shine your everlasting light.

Amen.

 

This is the story of our first Christmas. We wish you all a joyful, peaceful Christmas filled with love. As we go back to our work we go with joy in our hearts, singing Joy to the World.

Go in peace,

We go in peace

Go in joy

We go in joy

Go in love

We go in love

Amen.

The Four Stages of Love

Based upon Matthew 22:34-46

I’m sure that Jesus’ reply to the rather sneaky line of questioning in today’s gospel is familiar to many of us as it’s something we hear repeated at the beginning of most communion services throughout the year. He begins with the Shema, the command from Deuteronomy 6, also repeated daily in Jewish morning and evening prayer:

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind

But Jesus adds to this from Leviticus 19:

You shall love your neighbour as yourself

I think we could agree that Jesus does nothing by accident and therefore it’s the relationship between the two verses he uses that’s the important thing. If we stripped our entire faith down to it’s barest of bones what Jesus says here is the core of our belief.

Putting these two commands together, not having just one or the other, matters. If we just have the Shema we run the risk of our journey with God becoming about an isolated relationship between the two of us, just us and God. If our faith develops in that bubble we can become oblivious to everything and everyone outside of it. 

God exists within the relationship of the Trinity, giving us a clear example for our own lives. And so Jesus adds a third party to our relationship with God. Our Faith journey is not just us and God, it’s us, God and neighbour. 

Whilst doing some background reading for today’s sermon I came across the writings of Bernard of Clairvaux. He was a monk writing in the early 12th century and examined what it means to love God with our entire being, and love or neighbour as ourself, in what he called The Four Degrees of Love. I’m going to share some of his thoughts with you in the hope that he can help us pick this apart a little bit.

The first degree of love is the love of self for self’s sake, putting our-self first because it benefits us. This is where most of us start out. We have our own needs and wants and this is what we’re mainly interested in taking care of. It’s in our human nature, but if left unchecked we can go too far, we can hurt others by the pursuit of our own desires and happiness. Our love of neighbour should hopefully keep our love of ourself in check.

The second degree is the love of God for self’s sake, loving God because we may benefit from it. We may be in the middle of  a crisis and turn to God, we may be asking the big existential questions about creation and existence or we may have come from a background where we think if we don’t love God we’ll be punished, or that loving God will put us in the holy good books and God will treat us more favourably than others.

This is the kind of faith which tends to crumble when we meet real adversity and perceive that our prayers haven’t been answered. We’re a good person, a good Christian- why has this happened to us? When we’re able to open our hearts to the suffering of others, suffering outside of our own immediate situation, knowing lots of bad things happen to lots of good people, we begin to move past this.

The third degree is loving God for God’s sake. This is when we keep loving God, even when bad things happen and our own needs aren’t being met because when we continually do our best to love God, and keep loving God, we learn to know God’s goodness and as or relationship develops we love because we sense we are loved. We care for others because we come to the realisation that Jesus cares for us.

This is a mature faith, where most of us probably find ourselves.

Bernard describes one final degree of love: love of self for God’s sake. This is much more difficult to understand because so few of us experience it. It’s a moment of transcendence, rare and fleeting, when we will be of one mind with God, and our wills in one accord with God. The prayer, “Thy will be done,” will be our prayer and our delight.

This is the perfect love of God with our heart, soul, mind, and strength. I think some people spend their entire lives trying to find this, it’s like a glimpse of heaven. Unity and oneness with God. We see ourselves and others as God sees them.

Bernard writings remind us of the centrality of love in all things- those which come from God and those of our own making. He writes “Love is the fountain of life, and the soul which does not drink from it cannot be called alive.” In Jesus’ answer to a man trying to catch him out he places love at the centre of everything- our entire faith. 

Here and now, we continue to experience varying degrees of isolation, particularly with an increase in the restrictions we face but our experiences this year have helped us examine how we live alongside each other and what our communal responsibilities are. So many of the choices we have to make are driven by a love of neighbour as we choose ways of being and living that may inconvenience us in the hope that we’re doing the right things for the community as a whole.

Even when living in a more isolated way than we ever have, we can find new ways to love our neighbour and through this love to see our own place in a much bigger picture. As we, as Jesus instructs us, strive to love God perfectly, by loving each other better, we may be moving a little closer to a taste of that perfect oneness with God that Bernard tells us is achievable by each of us, if only even for a moment.

Amen.

Where do we fit in?

Preached this morning both in church and on Zoom- until the Internet booted me off before I'd finished! Based on Matthew 16.13-20  and Romans 12.1-8

If you’ve been listening to my sermons for a while now you may remember that I have a lot of affection for Simon Peter. We see him today given his nickname, Peter, The Rock, “Rocky”, which I think rather suits his temperament; he’s hot headed and punchy, not really given to thinking before he speaks or acts.

Yet it’s by not thinking too hard and going by his gut instinct that leads Peter to be the one disciple who’s able to answer Jesus’ question correctly.

“and who do you say that I am?”

“you are the Messiah, the son of the living God”

No deep contemplation, he just blurts out what comes into his head; and he’s right!

Jesus then names Peter first amongst equals, and he becomes a defining figure in the early church. He was the first to be called, the first we usually see named in lists of apostles and the one from whom Paul seeks approval from as he sets out on his own mission, even though they have disagreements.

For all his paradoxes and contradictions Peter becomes a unifying figure, at the centre of the vision of a community of faith, central to Paul’s vision of the one body, the perfect example of how it takes people of every kind to build that community.

The body image is the illustration of the perfect inclusive church where no one is excluded, we all fit in somewhere. Both the person of Peter and the vision of Paul serve to give us hope that no matter what our faults or differences, God has a place for us.

And yet we continually see a society which normalises exclusion, whether consciously or unconsciously, and faith communities which mirror this. No matter where we go, which communities we move in, there’s some sense of what’s acceptable and what’s unacceptable, what helps you to “fit” and what draws attention to the ways in which you don’t fit in. Body size, disability, sexuality, gender, age, race; not being neurotypical, level of education, marital status, financial status. These are all elements of ourselves which may have made us feel included or excluded.

My vision is that we’re working on building a community here where each and every one of us feels safe, valued and accepted, particularly if that’s not something we’re used to experiencing in the wider world. Paul’s vision reminds us that God is so big as to be able to accommodate each and every one of us.

To truly build up a fully inclusive community we have to look at ourselves as an institution, and face that there were times, and may still be, when the church has been on the wrong side of history, has colluded with worldly powers and has rejected and excluded in the name of the one who welcomes all and excludes no-one.

But, like Peter’s, ours is a redemption story – remember this is the man who after these events goes on to deny Jesus and then be forgiven. 

There’s a reason why our services have an act of confession built into them- we only grow by acknowledging our mistakes and failings. To love as God loves we need to see ourselves as God sees us, that includes knowing we each are loved AND being honest about the times we ourselves have not been loving, whether individually or collectively. 

Peter’s life, as the first, unifying head of the church, is a good metaphor for the history of the church and of Christianity. We’ve got things wrong, we’ve rejected Christ for our own interests; we’ve got things right and recognised the activity of God when we’ve seen it. The church has at times been unstable, tactless and impetuous, at times been faithful and filled with love and life-giving.

Peter’s life also gives me hope for the church- and for myself. It took many years and many mistakes for him to become who he became. We share his faults and failings, so we can also share in his successes and ability to see Jesus for exactly who he is. And Jesus never rejects Peter, even when he himself is rejected. That’s my ideal of how we live and respond to the world around us, always trying our best to love and welcome the world even when it doesn’t seem to love or welcome us.

My vision of a loving and inclusive community does reject something- it rejects our inability to disagree courteously and reduce each argument or disagreement to binaries- wrong or right, black or white. This vision of inclusion embraces nuance and debate and discussion. It’s a place where minds and hearts as well as its doors are open.

Showing the love of Christ and modelling what it can look like to truly live out the love which pours from God hopefully means we open up the hearts and minds of others to what’s possible when we stop trying to divide, separate and exclude. 

I want this to be a place where there’s no rules about who does or doesn’t fit in, because we all do. I get a daily email with a reflection from The Society of St John the Evangelist. On Thursday Br. Curtis wrote: we’re all different from one another: different gifts and needs, which is what God uses to knit us together. Our distinctive gifts and distinctive needs are intended to complement one another, not intended for either competition or conflict.

And on Friday Br. Nicholas wrote we all belong to Christ. If we fully surrender to God’s love and mercy, then how can we judge and despise each other? When we love one another with open hearts, without judging, without creating separation where none need exist, that’s when were letting Christ’s light shine as God lives through us. 

Amen.

More Than Enough

Both of our readings this morning (Isaiah 55.1-5 & Matthew 14.13-21)- focus on active displays of God’s overwhelming abundance and generosity, and in particular what God does with very little, the abundance God creates, as we see a few fish and loaves transformed into a meal which feeds thousands, with enough leftovers to feed many more. 

I want to give a bit of context to the gospel passage because it helps set the scene a little and also acts as a contrast to how we see God work in the reading.

Jesus is seeking solitude as he’s just learned about the death of John the Baptist and needs some space to process that. John is killed after the events at Herod’s birthday celebration, an event which acts as a contrast to Jesus’s actions here. Herod’s party is hollow, shallow and elitist. It results in life being taken. Compare this to how Jesus cares and nurtures and feeds; no one is turned away, he sustains and nourishes in a way which lasts.

As the huge crowd of people try to follow Jesus as he retreats in his grief we see something I talked about recently in an online service- splagthnizomai: bowels of mercy. A physical, visceral response. Jesus is physically moved in the very core of his being to feel compassion for the crowd. 

This is Jesus who is trying to process his own grief and loss and yet still has it within himself to act with the utmost compassion and care towards those who have sought him out, who want or need something from him. And he gives it.

He talks and he teaches, he heals. He gives them what they need. By this point it’s really late and the disciples are thinking “job done, time to send them away”. But Jesus says no. you feed them. It’s like the worse case scenario of someone popping round for tea and having nothing in.

You can only imagine what the disciples must have thought, looking out over that crowd, and if you think, the 5000 was only the men, not counting women and children, there must have been upwards of 10,000 people there with a conservative estimate.

How do you feed 10,000 plus people? What on earth must the disciples have thought of Jesus? But Jesus knew they could do it, because more than anyone Jesus knows and demonstrates the character of God; he knows God is generous and compassionate and that is what is revealed by what followed

Jesus takes what can be found, he looks to heaven and then he blesses, breaks and shares what’s before him. That eucharistic imagery is not a coincidence, these are the actions Jesus will repeat at the Last Supper, the actions I will perform this morning. These actions have, until recently, punctuated our lives as members of a church community where communion is central to our worship- for some of us that has been through our entire life, and to have that denied to us through lockdown has been very painful indeed. 

It’s an example of our God and our faith as physical and practical. We have an incarnate God and an embodied faith. This gospel story of meeting need with abundance is an example of what Angus Ritchie means when he wrote “Eucharistic worship must lead on to truly eucharistic lives. Such lives will exhibit that “freedom from self-concern” which enables us to see our neighbour as a gift and not an interruption”

The disciples probably saw the crowd as an interruption, but Jesus, even in the midst of his own pain, saw them as a gift, and a gift through which he chose to reveal even more of God’s character.

So now we’ve reached a day where it’s possible to once more share in God’s abundance and for some of us to be able to share communion once more, but it’s important to remember that’s still not the case for everyone. We have many vulnerable members of this community for whom returning to the church building isn’t the right thing yet. I think it must be incredibly difficult for those of you who aren’t able to share in that act.

I hope we can be fortified in knowing that even if we can’t share in the elements, our worship, this worship we share today, is still eucharistic, and as Rosalind Brown reminds us the Eucharist is about God’s care for the world. We pray for the world though our eucharistic prayer and we pray that this directs our own actions:

"Lord of all life, help us to work together for that day when your Kingdom comes, and justice and mercy will be seen in all the earth." 

"Send us out in the power of your Spirit to live and work to your praise and glory;" 

"May we who share Christ's body live his risen life, we who drink his cup bring life to others, we whom the Spirit lights give light to the world."

Like the bread and fish Jesus gathers up, we too are taken by Jesus, blessed, broken and shared for the world. No matter how little we think we are or how little we feel we have to give, the words of our prayers and nature of our worship are shaped to remind us that our little, through God, is enough, is more than enough. We’re what God uses to sustain others, even if we feel very small and inadequate. 

Even if we can’t share in the fullness of a communion service as we once knew it we can share our fully eucharistic lives, knowing that whatever we offer to God will be multiplied and used to magnify and glorify God’s love in our world. 

And through our prayers for the world God directs us towards those people who surround us, who are a gift to us, and God continues to show his abundant and excessive love, where all are filled and there’s always enough to share and there’s always more than enough left over. Amen.

Simul Justus et Peccator

Based upon Matthew 13.24-30,36-43

Today’s gospel in an incredibly difficult passage and not one I’ve relished having to unpick. We hear Jesus share a parable of weeds and wheat, growing together and then being sorted at the harvest, the weeds being burned up. Jesus even gives us a handy explanation which seems to tie everything together neatly.

And yet the parables are never that neat or easy to interpret, even when an explanation seems to have been offered. We have a knack of entirely removing the context and relating it to ourselves, often missing its meaning entirely. 

My difficulty with this passage is how it’s been used over the centuries- as a means to control through fear, as a way of perpetuating a view of the afterlife which I don’t believe in and doesn’t match the loving God I do believe in. it’s also been used as a means of virtue signalling; we are the wheat and you are the weeds. We are good and you are bad.

I don’t know if it’s necessarily a useful analogy for us here and now. It may have given reassurance to Matthew’s audience, and it’s interesting to note it only appears in Matthew, written for a people who were victims of oppression, violence and war, wanting the evil that caused their pain eradicated. Wanting to know there would eventually be justice. 

I have a rule when trying to decipher the bible. Does what I’m reading about who God is and how God is resonate with Jesus’ primary teachings? If not their must be something else going on.

The image of weeds and wheat is so inflexible- wheat can’t become a weed and weeds can’t become wheat. This doesn’t fit with the image of an all-loving God who loves each of us and knows we each have the ability to grow and change and become the people God knows we can be. No one is all good or all bad, we’re each a complicated, nuanced mixture. 

If there’s any absolute truth it’s that each of us is simultaneously weeds and wheat. Martin Luther had this absolutely correct when he said that we’re simul justus et peccator: we are at the same time, sinner and saint.

Our task is to recognise that within ourselves, to know what our weeds are, be realistic about them, name them and work on them. We run into trouble by imagining we’re weed free, that we’re only magnificent, flawless and faultless wheat. 

If we think about how God loves us it might be worth thinking about someone we love, how we love them; a child, spouse, parent or friend. We love them despite their imperfections, why would God be any different? 

The thing being in lockdown has forced us to confront is ourselves, and those we live with. Having no option but to be either alone with ourselves or those in our household for several months may have highlighted for each of us the things which irk us about those we love or those things within ourselves we’re not so happy about. 

I’m sure, for the most part, we still love those we live with despite the things which have annoyed us. Hopefully we can say the same thing about the person we see in the mirror. Can we accept our own weeds and love ourselves in spite of them?

There’s so much mystery in how God has created us and our world, and within that good and evil, saint and sinner, are held together in a constant tension, as the weeds and wheat grow alongside each other, the removal of one would damage the other. Our flaws contribute to the person we are.

Maybe one way we can interpret this passage is to know that eventually, when at the end we’re drawn into the eternal mystery of God’s love and become one with that love, all things are made good and pure and whole. 

The fire of God’s love transforms everything, even our deepest flaws and wildest weeds. Until then we live the paradox of being both wheat and weed, saint and sinner, and knowing that is actually how God intends it to be. Amen.

Splagthnizomai

Based upon Matthew 9.35-10.8

I’m sure many of us are pretty familiar with this passage, you’ve probably heard it preached on before, or maybe the similar passage from Luke or Mark. I’m not going to talk about what The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few means for us today, because that’s not what I’ve found interesting as I’ve mulled over this passage over the last few days.

I absolute love it when I read a passage of scripture which I’ve read dozens of times before but in that moment something different than before grips me, as if I’m reading it for the first time. That happened when I read He had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless.

Now I’m going to get a bit anatomical this morning – that’s a fair warning for those of you who don’t enjoy talk of bodily things.

Compassion is a wonderful word, and an even more wonderful component of our humanity. I think it’s a massive part of what it means for us to be made in god’s image. But it’s actually a bit of a “nice” or weedy translation of what the original Greek word used by the gospel writer means.

Their word was far more visceral – literally. I have a writer called Charles Erlandson to thank for this translation, and my Greek isn’t great, but the word splagthnizomai, comes from the word for inward parts or entrails and so means to be moved with “bowels of mercy” or to have a visceral, physical, reaction of compassion.

For me this translation completely transforms Jesus’ reaction to the crowd. I was trying to think of a modern comparison that might make the reaction relatable for us and one which came to mind was the collective response to watching Michael Buerk’s 1984 news report on the famine in Ethiopia. The report caused that visceral, gut-churning experience of compassion which then forced a reaction in us- in that instance a world-wide drive of action and aid.

It’s also really interesting to look at the translation of the word which has driven Jesus’ splagthnizomai. The Greek word used for the helpless crowd is, according to Church Times writer Angus Ritchie eskylmenoi - translated as “harassed”, but more accurately “mangled” or “torn asunder”. Another translation is feeling “flayed alive”. It’s another very visceral word, and these very physical words are a reminder that we have a God who has lived our human life with our human body and human emotions.

We’ve seen a lot of crowds on our screens recently but I don’t know if your own reaction has been one of compassion, or fear or anger. Now I don’t think that those protestors I’ve seen standing in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement have necessarily been fearful or leaderless, so this is in no way a direct comparison with our gospel story, but I think it may give us some degree of insight into how and why people have been driven to demonstrate even when it may be putting their own safety or the safety of others at risk in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.

I think protestors probably fall into two camps- the first are those who have felt harassed and helpless, mangled and torn asunder. People from black and minority ethnic groups who have experienced abuse, hate, racism, discrimination and “othering” from individuals, groups and institutions, or have witnessed it in others.

A world-wide coming together of circumstances has triggered a collective snap, and these protestors feel they can no longer live without much needed systemic change.

The second group of protestors I believe are those who have experienced the gut-wrenching physical compassion of witnessing the harassment and helplessness of others and have been moved into action, standing beside the harassed and helpless, and maybe even recognising their own part in the systems which have allowed discrimination to continue. 

Now I don’t know if the protests are right or wrong, I believe our right to protest is a fundamental one, but we are still in the grip of this awful virus, yet I do believe those who have chosen to protest are acting upon conscience and compassion.

It was incredibly moving on Monday evening to attend the Diocese online event Prayer and Protest where our own Cathedral Dean, Rogers, spoke of his experiences of racism and life in South Africa under apartheid. Archdeacon Karen talked about her inability of knowing whether to go out and protest or not- preparing to leave the house three times before finally staying home.

These are, as we are constantly reminded, unprecedented times and it’s so hard to know how to react and respond even when we feel that gut-wrenching compassion for the suffering others have experienced and continue to experience.

Jesus’ response to what he witnesses is in part to recognise that he alone is not enough. In this context I don’t think the harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few is about going and making new recruits for the church. I said I wasn’t going to talk about that didn’t I? I guess it couldn’t be avoided but I read this as meaning there’s an awful lot of people out there who are in need of help and healing, and not enough of us willing to do the helping and facilitate the healing.

It’s also interesting to look at what Jesus’ form of help looks like; Recognising he needs help he instructs the 12. This is the first place they’re called Apostles, meaning sent, and he gives them their mission; cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. It’s practical and physical, it’s acts of healing and love, it’s making God’s love visible in the world. The foundation our church is built upon.

If our compassion drives us to want to act, how can we make God’s love visible in the world? How can we offer healing and practical help – and how can we do this in the middle of a global pandemic?

The most important thing we can do is educate ourselves. The General Commission on Race and Religion have made some suggestions. 

We can read articles or books or watch films and documentaries by people from other cultures and backgrounds. There's a lot of things we can view online right now- the documentary 13th and the film Belle are a good start. I've seen historian David Olusoga interviewed a lot recently and his book Black and British is on many of the recommended lists.

We can follow the social media of people or organisations which represent BAME groups.

We can visit online museums and cultural centres.

We can listen to friends who identify as belonging to another culture.

And we can learn about our own history and how that history has affected others.

Educating ourselves is the most important step but there's action we can take too- signing petitions on parliament.uk to bring about official response, writing to your MP about issues of racial justice, donate if you're able. There's a whole variety of causes you may wish to support financially, including a bereavement fund helping with memorial and funeral costs for BAME families who we know are disproportionately affected by covid-19.

A spokesperson for Hackney Stand Up To Racism said: “Our best way of fighting racism is in unity. Anti-racists are the vast majority and our strength is in solidarity and organisation and a refusal to concede a millimetre to the racists.”

If our role as a church is to be a visible sign of God's love in the world than I believe it's our duty to be actively anti-racist.

We’re the body of Christ and as we read in 1 Corinthians “if one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honoured, every part rejoices with it.” Amen. 

To follow up on this morning's sermon here is a resource list. These a just a few suggestions and is the tiniest tip of the iceberg:

LISTEN

Witness Black History' by BBC World Service https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01h9dl0/episodes/downloads

READ

'Black, Listed: Black British Culture Explored' by Jeffrey Boakye

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Black-Listed-Jeffrey-Boakye/dp/0349700559

‘Black and British: A Forgotten History’ by David Olusoga https://www.amazon.co.uk/Black-British-Forgotten-David-Olusoga/dp/1447299760 

‘Brit(ish): On Race, Identity and Belonging’ by Afua Hirsch https://www.waterstones.com/book/brit-ish/afua-hirsch/9781784705039 

WATCH

13th (2006) https://www.netflix.com/gb/title/80091741 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krfcq5pF8u8 

Belle (2013) https://thevore.com/film/35834/ 

The Unwanted: The Secret Windrush Files https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m00068sk/the-unwanted-the-secret-windrush-files 

Britain’s Forgotten Slave Owners https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b062nqpd/britains-forgotten-slave-owners-1-profit-and-loss 

SIGN

UK Government and Parliament https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions?state=all 

WRITE

Write to your MP https://www.writetothem.com/ 

Email Gavin Williamson, Secretary of State for Education, to support The Black Curriculum’s campaign to address the lack of black history taught in UK schools. https://www.theblackcurriculum.com/action 

DONATE

Black Lives Matter UK (BLMUK) https://www.gofundme.com/f/ukblm-fund

Stand Up to Racism https://www.standuptoracism.org.uk/join-donate/ 

Majonzi Fund https://www.gofundme.com/f/majonzi-fund-covid19-bereavement-fund 

FOLLOW

Some suggestions here: https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/black-lives-matter-anti-racism-activists-instagram-social-media-a9554186.html

Leaving the Sheep Fold

There’s going to be a lot of sheep metaphors today because the 4th Sunday of Easter is also called Good Shepherd Sunday. If we were to have our full set of readings we would hear the Shepherd and their sheep evoked in Psalm 23; by St Peter’s writings; and we would hear of those very first Christians in the Book of Acts living out a version of Jesus’ gospel teaching. 

There must be something important in what Jesus is trying to get across to his listeners in this passage because he’s using an image that comes up again and again throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. As well as probably the best known psalm, the shepherd metaphor is used by Isaiah, Ezekiel, Micah…Jesus must be trying to communicate something important about God’s character and intention, and how his hearer’s should respond to that, even if, as we heard in the gospel account, they weren’t quite grasping it.

I remember on this Sunday five years ago Huw’s dad came to preach- I don’t always remember sermons I must admit but that one stuck with me. He spoke of God’s care for each and every one of us. We’d just entered an interregnum so we were a flock without a shepherd; now we have a shepherd, but the sheep are scattered, unable to be physically gathered in our fold.

It’s an incredibly unsettling time as clergy, and all those involved in church leadership, and our team here at St Michael’s, try to work out what shepherding our flock looks like in lockdown- and beyond as we imagine what church and community may be like when the world, probably quite slowly, begins to emerge from isolation.

We also have the challenge of looking to the ultimate Good Shepherd, Jesus himself, and wondering how we live that God-infused abundant life in our varying situations right now.

The Good Shepherd has for centuries been used as the ultimate model of how a “good Priest” should lead, it’s written into our ordination rites, and is what I would hope we each aspire to. Jesus describes the shepherd as a gatekeeper, but gates can be used to keep people out or let people in, admission or exclusion.

Our task is finding ways to nurture and feed our community which admit as many as possible and exclude as few as possible. As we find these new ways of worshipping and sharing our faith we’re admitting new people through the gate, but at the same time these new ways aren’t accessible or helpful to all members of our community and they may feeling excluded or shut out.

But there is good news here for those of us worried about the flock, concerned that we aren’t able to care for all as we’d wish. 

In the shepherding metaphor we, the people of God are the sheep. Now your impression of sheep may be that they're kind of skittish and none too bright but if you’ve spent any time with them you come the realise they’re also pretty tough, they’re hardy and resilient creatures. They're out in all weathers, in all terrains and in all circumstances. 

Also, they don't require constant attention, they're pretty good at just getting on and doing their own thing without their Shepherd being constantly present- they just check in every now and again to make sure one of the flock isn't in bother. 

Essentially sheep are equipped for survival, if we're God's "sheep" that means we’re equipped for survival too!

We're experiencing a pretty tough time right now but I truly believe we are designed for tough times. Having faith isn't a magic bullet to protect us from times like these but part of what helps pull us through and weather the storm, knowing we aren't on our own; the shepherd may not always be in sight, but they're never too far from us either.

I read a couple of articles this week on the Patheos website by a David Roberts and they gave me a new perspective on the shepherding metaphor.

We see the sheep fold as the place of safety, maybe as our home or church, or the traditions of our faith that bring us comfort- but where is the shepherd? Not in the fold.

To lead us to the green pastures we hear of in that famous psalm, to the abundant life promised by Jesus, The shepherd calls us out from the fold, we follow their voice as we’re led through the wilderness and eventually we will make it to those green pastures to the life Jesus intends for us.

To all of us who’re trying to lead: please try not to worry, the flock know the shepherd’s voice and are a hardy bunch, built to weather the storm. And to us the flock; trust the voice you know is God’s, follow where it leads. We will weather the storm, we will pass through the wilderness and there will, eventually, be in green pastures. Amen.

John 10.1-10

‘Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.’ Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.

So again Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.