2nd Sunday before Lent Yr A

Don't worry about tomorrow!

If ever there were advice that is hard to follow at this time of transitions, this must be it!

Really, Jesus, you just don't get it, do you?

There's all the preparations for moving house – booking removal firms, telling all the official people that we're changing our address, working out what on earth we're going to do with all the books that can't fit into the new house and when we'll manage to get up there to paint the study....

There are all the preparations for the new job – learning about Cathedral ministry, learning more of the story of Coventry, reflecting on all the hopes of others and my own aspirations and inadequacies.

And most of all, there's that longing to leave here well...to do everything I can to ensure that ministry carries on smoothly, that those who might need extra love and care don't feel I've just abandoned them, that wedding couples know who will be taking their service

And just getting on with the everyday stuff -with planning Lent services and Easter celebrations, checking on palm crosses and Lent course books...

I'm beginning to understand why you were the only one who ever managed to say “It is finished”

I don't think I'll manage my final departure that well, if I can't even organise my move from one ministry to another.

So – sorry, Jesus, but it seems to me that pretty much everything I do at the moment is shaped by worries about tomorrow.

And I'm one of the lucky ones.

If I'm honest, my worries are all about my “Wants” rather than my “needs”.

You would all cope perfectly well if I vanished this afternoon...the life and ministry of the church would continue uninterrupted, children would be baptised, the dead commended to God's care, the Sacraments celebrated....

I'm in no way essential – and all the other STUFF that is preoccupying me really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things at all.

So perhaps I can mange to learn “Don't worry about tomorrow”

But some things do need to be worried about – really they do.

This week our bishops, Michael and Martyn, were among 2 dozen who signed a letter that received a great deal of publicity in the national press.

If you didn't see it, there are copies on the table at the back of church.

It draws attention to those whose worry about tomorrow is all too real and pressing.

People, often working as hard as any of us, who don't know whether they will eat at all today....or who have to choose between eating and heating....

Ordinary people – not ne'er do wells or scroungers...people just like us, with the same hopes, fears, longings and dreams....who have been pushed to the bottom of the pile as our welfare system reaches breaking point.

That this should happen at all is a scandal in a western country in the 21^st century – for we have enough for me to have TOO MUCH to fit into our new home – and we eat enough for me to need to sign up to Weight Watchers once again.

There's something very wrong in this situation, isn't there?

How can some of us have so much – and others so very little.

It's a political problem, yes – but it's also a spiritual problem for sure.

It seems to me that we are in danger of forgetting a key truth from our Old Testament lesson – that each and every baby born into this world, each and every human being is MADE IN GOD'S IMAGE.

So – each and every human being has both equal rights – to the basic necessities of life – and equal responsibilities – to ensure those necessities are available for all.

To seek the kingdom of God is to pursue a world founded on the principles of the great Commandments – to love God with heart, soul, mind and strength and to love our neighbours – rich, poor, black, white, straight, gay, ALL our neighbours as ourselves.

There is enough in this world to meet the NEEDS of all

The wants may be rather different – and it's possible that we cannot have all that we want, all that we imagine we need, if we're to be serious in seeking God's kingdom.

But God's kingdom and his righteousness are not optional extras for us...

We can't just sit in comfort while our brothers and sisters, made like us in God's image, struggle with poverty, injustice, oppression.

We can't ignore the struggles of creation, groaning as it awaits redemption – while we exploit and abuse it. 
We may not need to worry but we do need to act for we are called to something different, something greater.

And living that calling will not be achieved by worrying about tomorrow – though the prospect of taking our calling seriously might well encourage worry in the short-term, we know that worry never gets us anywhere.

Instead, we are called to live lives founded on God's righteousness knowing that if that is really and truly our focus we can trust Him to carry us through so we too can play our part in making the Kingdom real in this place at this time.

Lent is coming.

May we use those days to restore our perspective, to recover our sense of what really matters so that with Easter may come resurrection hope for all the world God loves so much.

Homily for 8.00 Proper 2 3rd Sunday before Lent Yr A

We're all partisan sometimes. It seems to be part of the human condition.

We define ourselves over against someone else, from the playground politics that label someone as in or out because of their trainers or the football team they support, and on into the adult world.

When I came here, the first thing I was told about this community was “Cainscross is NOT Stroud”

We define ourselves: “US” and not “THEM” – politically, socially, even in matters of faith

WE are Anglicans – THEY are non-conformist

WE are liberal – THEY are conservative

and – implicitly – WE are right, THEY are wrong

We seem powerless to prevent this – even though we may know instinctively that it's not the way God would have us be. We are a tribal people and we love to squabble, believing every time that our way of being is right.

And clearly, that's been the experience of the church in Corinth as they split down the middle – into those who supported Paul and those who preferred Apollos. I'm sure both camps were sincerely convinced of their own position – and it's quite helpful for us to realise that the matters which divided them so clearly in those early days of the church have quite been completely forgotten now. As the media resounds with cries of joy or despair in response to the latest decisions at General Synod, the current proclamations from the House of Bishops, it might help to remember that. The struggles which dominate our landscape today will probably, by the grace of God, be as thoroughly lost and forgotten as those which split the Corinthian church.

We have NO idea how Paul's teachings differed from Apollos...and today, it just doesn't matter.

What DOES matter is the point that Paul makes loud and clear – which the Church needs to hear again and again at every stage of her life.

The church is not MY church – or your church –

It doesn't belong to any one faction – New Wine, Inclusive Church, Forward in Faith, Reform – it belongs, and has always and only belonged, to GOD.

None of us, however passionate we are in our beliefs, however committed to sharing them, has the last word or the monopoly on truth...

That truth is God's alone – and his vision is always larger, his love more inclusive.

One plants, another waters - in other words, we all have a part to play - but it is God who gives the growth.

Last week we thought a lot about growth – about the need for us to move on, during the green and growing season, from being infants in Christ to reaching the maturity that we need in order to share our faith with others. This doesn't mean that we have to set aside “simple faith” - but we do need to be honest in dealing with any complexities we may encounter. God gave us minds as well as hearts and souls...and we need to do all we can to ensure that our faith is not just a matter of childish loyalty or unthinking love...

Sometimes fear prevents us from engaging with the hard stuff – so we try to gloss over the questions and challenges that we meet – but to do that means that we're never really honest with ourselves – or with God.

Growing in Christ we can dare to take the challenges head on – to acknowledge that neither life nor faith is a simple matter....We need to explore the issues that divide our church – asking God to help us to open our minds and our hearts. That's what growth is all about....

And if we are rooted deeply in Christ, secure in our own relationship with him, then we can reach out to others – so that the Church too can flourish and grow....for if WE do not take responsibility for sharing our faith, we can't be surprised if the Church that we love shrinks, withers, dies...

So – growth is good – but it can be challenging in itself. Listen to Jesus...constantly pushing the boundaries so that what his hearers assumed were the foundations of faith were expanded, changed

You have heard it said....but I say

Faith is never static...each generation learns from the traditions it received, but interprets those traditions afresh as God speaks into the current age, the current situation. If you doubt me, think of the way the Church once defended slavery – then reflected, listened and changed to become central in the movement to abolish it.

God's underlying truths are eternal – but the way we are to live them out is shaped by our context as surely today as it was for those who listened aghast as Jesus kept moving the goalposts, repeatedly putting love above law, people before rules. Here, the demands are almost overwhelming. We're not just to avoid murder – I can confidently confirm that I've managed that one so far...but we are also to turn away from jealousy, hatred, - all those negative forces that inspire acts of violence or cruelty.

Equally, we're not just to love our nearest and dearest – but also those whom we would quite cheerfully send to the other side of the world on a one-way ticket.

We're to model our faltering human love on God's boundless, all-embracing love...

We're to stop thinking in terms of them and us – and simply open our arms.

It's REALLY hard – all of it....but growing pains are another one of those things we can expect to encounter in our lives and our work as we look towards Lent is to BE growing people, responsive to God's call to live the truth of his love in this generation as we listen to the challenges he offers, to grow in faith, and hope and love.

So what? A rather bumpy sermon for Epiphany 5A

On Monday, a friend emailed me a picture of Kermit the frog...captioned

“Ordinary Time: it's not easy being green”

Just a bit of internet nonsense – but maybe Kermit has a point!

Ordinary time is described by the American theologian Jerome Berryman, as the “green and growing season” and, right enough, after the high celebrations of Christmas and Epiphany, with their conscious focus on the Christ-child in our midst, the spot-light now falls on us, as we are challenged to do some growing in faith ourselves.

No, it's not easy.

Not easy at all.

You see, there aren't any formulas or short cuts, no quick fix solutions in discipleship.

But discipleship is what we're about.

The process of learning from and growing more like Jesus, of living those baptism promises that we recalled as we stood by the font last Sunday.

It sometimes seems that we're content to stand still in our faith – as if faith was simply something to grasp with both hands and not a daily adventure.

We relapse into saying “I was baptised” instead of remembering every single day “I AM baptised” - with all the challenges and excitement that this involves.

Does that make sense to you?

Let's re-wind briefly.

Think for a moment about your own early experiences of life in the Church...about how it all began for you.

Perhaps you came week by week as a child – and gradually realised that something of real significance was happening here.

Perhaps you wandered in as an adult – looking for a solution at a time of trouble, or coming to celebrate a blessing or a joy – and encountered Someone whose love overwhelmed you and compelled you to respond.

That's often the way faith journeys begin.

We meet God and our life is changed.

A seed of faith is planted.

Fantastic!

But – what happens next?

Is our response a single event – an acknowledgement that God is God which is noted, and filed away for future reference?

Or does it lead to more questions, fresh discoveries.

God is God – so what?

That is, I'd say, the central question for each one of us.

It has implications beyond the way we choose to spend our Sunday mornings – though sometimes that's the way that anyone could tell that we are people of faith.

Of course it does matter that we are here at worship together...

It's important that we come week by week with the specific purpose of encountering God in word and Sacrament – and in one another.

But – there's all the difference in the world between “going to church” and “BEING the church”....and, in this green and growing season, the onus is on us to learn together how we may be the church in obedience to our commission in the Sermon on the Mount.

God is God. So what?

Both Old Testament reading and gospel make it abundantly clear that we are to

“Be doers of the word and not hearers only." and that our faith practice should have one single end – NOT what WE might get out of it, but what it will prompt us to do.

Hence those strong words from God about the fasting that leads nowhere.

It's not that there's anything wrong with fasting...or any other religious practice...but we do have to be clear WHY are we doing it?

Is it all about creating the perfect religious experience for us? If so, it's unlikely to amount to anything much...

“You serve your own interests in the fast day”...or, in other, smugger, words, “Look at me being holy”

That's not just thoroughly unattractive – it's completely pointless.

Worship is NOT ABOUT US!

If our faith began with the awareness of God's love – it will grow and flourish as we reach out to share that love with others.

Is not this the fast that I choose:
   to loose the bonds of injustice,
   to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
   and to break every yoke? 
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
   and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
   and not to hide yourself from your own kin? 
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
   and your healing shall spring up quickly;

It's when we look beyond ourselves that we begin to learn how to be Kingdom people....when we set out to share our blessings with the world that we begin to shine.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus revisits this same challenge...Tom Wright says

“God's purpose for Israel was that through them he would bring his justice and mercy to bear upon the nations”.

It was a challenge that Israel ducked repeatedly...in Isaiah's day, and then again when Jesus set it before them....so instead Jesus lived out that agenda himself.

He became a light to reveal God to the nations – He, rejected by many, became the the one set on the hill, the beacon which could neither be missed nor ignored....Living, dying, rising he fulfills the law and the prophets....Light for the world. Salt of the earth – changing everything by its presence...

Which brings us back to the “so what's” of our own discipleship.

The call is clear and uncompromising – so it's time for us to risk a health check.

I know it's not easy being green and growing – but whether we like it or not, we too are supposed to be light and salt... people who make a difference...

Of course, light and salt have very different kinds of impact.

The whole point about light is that it's unmissable...and the darker the surroundings, the more obvious it becomes. Sometimes I think we would prefer to blend into the background – even if that involves a few compromises with the way we live our lives.

But – that's not how light behaves.

It SHINES – changing the darkness by its presence...

Salt, on the other hand, works another way entirely...add it to a recipe and it will change the taste, bringing out the flavours that might otherwise be missed. Its presence won't necessarily be obvious but it's absence is quite another matter.

But – ARE we distinctively “salty”?

“salt of the earth” is not a label reserved for a favoured few....It's a role for all of us – people blessed by God and handing on that blessing in ways that flavour our homes, our families, our communities with the distinctive taste of the Kingdom.

If there's nothing distinctive about us – if the salt has lost its flavour – then it's time for drastic action. If salt loses it's saltiness is it still salt at all?
If a light is not allowed to shine is it still a light?

If a Christian stops living a visibly different life, is she still a Christian?

If a church is just a Sunday gathering – is it a Church at all?

Big questions...too important to gloss over.

Our distinctive Kingdom flavour comes from being close to Jesus...from spending time with Him in prayer, in study and in action too.

We can't and won't change the world ourselves...but God's Spirit at work in us can enable us to be agents of change for the Kingdom.

We are to be both salt and light...not for our own benefit but to give glory to God and for the transformation of our community.

We, who have been blessed, are commissioned to pass on that blessing...that's what it means to be Kingdom people....the answer to the “so what” question that lies at the heart of discipleship.

It's not easy – not in any way! But though the demands may be great – the rewards are immeasurable.

Candlemass

As I said in my homily for All Saints, Uplands, I really love this feast.

I love that we get one more visit to the crib, one more chance to cradle the baby Jesus in our own arms before he leaves us behind and begins his journey to the cross.
I love the way the liturgy takes us from the crib to the cross by way of our own baptism
And, as someone who loves, loves, LOVES candles - I love the way the service overflows with images of light and darkness.
This morning, the resourceful Herring of Christ produced a truly splendid all age talk based on making a lantern out of an orange, some olive oil & a blow torch...and the resulting lantern burned cheerfully on the altar for the rest of the service.
Of course, there was a bit of effort, some fiddly removal of the pulp of the fruit to be done before it really lit up - and I couldn't resist the reminder that there's often a LOT of effort and clearing away of our own stuff before we can begin to shine...but after a while, shine it did - and so do we.

After Communion, as we've done every year, we moved with our lighted candles to stand by the crib. 
The light there has burned non-stop since Christmas Eve - and I've often come in to church to find a visitor lingering there.Last week I met a mum with a toddler, sheltering from the downpour, the child shrieking excitedly
"It's NOT over Mum...It's NOT! it's NOT"
but today Evie & her mum finally flicked the switch - and that was that.

Christmas finished for another year.

It felt specially odd, as I reflected that whoever unpacks and arranges the crib next Advent - it won't be me...but as we processed to the font, reciting the Nunc Dimittis as I do at the end of each and every funeral, I realised that I wasn't leaving Christmas behind me but taking it with me - in every single one of the lovely people there. 

They stood around me, each one carrying their candle but bearing so much greater light than just those little flames. For a few moments as I looked at them, I seemed to be experiencing an answer to the prayer that I use before worship so often
"Loving God, as we gather in worship today help us to recognise you in your word, in one another and in the breaking of bread"
That little group of children and adults shone so brightly with the love of God that I viewed them through a rainbow of tears.

Moving on isn't going to be easy - but given such light along the way, I'm sure we will all arrive safely.

Candlemass homily for 8.00 at All Saints, Uplands.

I love Candlemass.

I love the echoes of the lost medieval church, the remembrance of past generations gathering with candles to be blessed – to light their homes and their worship through the year ahead.

I love the way this feast is a hinge point, between the crib and the cross.

As worship ends today, the light that has shone in the crib since Christmas Eve will finally be extinguished and our focus will move to the font – the place where each of us was, at baptism, marked by the cross, and commissioned to lead lives cross-shaped lives, - modelled on the pattern of Christ.

After today, we will not carry candles into our churches til the Easter Vigil, when the deacon will proclaim “The light of Christ” as the Paschal candle is brought in to transform the darkness of Holy Saturday – and we reaffirm those baptism vows once again.

Because, we are called to be people of light...

“It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness” says the proverb

Whenever we choose hope, whenever we proclaim salvation, however vague and uncertain it seems, we each of us light a candle.

We light a candle for others – quite literally, as a sign of prayers.

The Lady Chapel at St Matthew's is often bright with candle flames, each a visible reminder that someone has visited and asked God to shine his light into dark or troubling situations.

We light candles for others, too, whenever we live as children of light...opting for what is good and true...showing by the way we live that we take seriously our commission to shine as a light in the world.

When our school Eucharist ended on Friday, I gave each class a candle to take away with them. For a few moments 7 flames burned brightly, drawing the eyes of all of us...then we counted down and blew them out – and I told the children, as I so often do, that the flame goes from the candle into their hearts.

And surely that's the message of today.

Through the high celebrations of Christmas and Epiphany we have rejoiced in glimpses of God's glory...revealed to shepherds and Magi, to Simeon and Anna, to the crowds on the banks of the Jordan and the wedding guests at Cana of Galilee.

Now we have to make sure that the world knows that the light still shines.

Sometimes it may feel as if the hope of Israel – and our own hopes too – have been lost, extinguished by the harshness of the world...

but the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out.

Think again of Simeon holding that tiny child...defenceless, vulnerable...how RIDICULOUS of God, to place his rescue plan for the world in such a fragile vessel.

Remember, though it's true that a sudden draft can blow out a candle flame and leave us in darkness – all the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of even a single candle.

Each of us bears the light of Christ in our hearts and minds..Each of us can stand as a sign of hope in a world that needs hope so badly.

I wonder whether our ancestors in faith remembered, when they lit their candles at home, the blessing they had received...I wonder if for them, each candle flame was a sign of God's presence...of Emmanuel, God with us in the joy of the Birth day but with us too in the darkest hours of the cross, and the pain of the world.

I wonder more if they recognised Emmanuel in their friends and neighbours...

and above all, I wonder if OUR friends and neighbours recognise Emmanuel in us.

Shine as a light in the world to the glory of God the Father.

Follow me - Epiphany 3A 2014 at St Matthew's

 This morning’s story is one of the most familiar of all the gospel scenes, and one of the most familiar of all gospel challenges.

When I was a child, I remember singing the action song “I will make you fishers of men” - and I'm willing to bet we could do a reasonable job of it here and now.

We all know the idea.

We, who have heard and responded to the call of Jesus, must in our turn share that call that invitation with others.

We’ve been fished – and now we are sent to fish in our turn.

But maybe it’s not the best metaphor for us as we consider our calling.

A fish, after all, doesn’t exactly thrive after it has been caught.

Think of a net full of fish, floundering and gasping on the quayside. It's a death sentence

…but when Jesus invited those men on the shore of Lake Galilee to “Follow me”, he was calling them to a more abundant life.

That call, to which they responded, apparently without a backward glance, was going to change everything.

That's how it is with God.

The world turns upside down.

They left home that morning as ordinary Palestinian fishermen – hoping for a good catch and a good return on their day's work.

But by bedtime, everything was different.

So, let’s think for a moment about all they left behind, the good things and the bad.

Most obviously, they left their boats – the way that they had earned their livings, the hall-mark of the people they were.

They had been independent, self-reliant - but no longer.

Suddenly they had to trust that they’d get by without the wherewithal for a day’s catch.

They left the damage of a day’s work behind, too – torn and tangled nets.

No time to sort things out, set their houses in order…they just had to go!

AND, they left their families. That's a hard one.

Zebedee, the father of James and John gets a special mention as we imagine him staring after his sons, wondering how he’s going to get the work done, whether his boys will be back in time to go out on the evening run – or every be back at all.

We know that Simon had a wife at home, AND a mother in law, and he certainly didn’t run home to tell them he’d be a little while.

He just went…in instant obedience to Jesus…he turned away from his undoubted ties and responsibilities and simply followed. How rash! How inconsiderate! How irresponsbile.

He just upped and offed and so found a wider world, a place of hopes fulfilled and wonders unfolding…a world in which the limitations of life as a lakeside fisherman simply had no meaning.

But it can't have been easy...for not one of those men knew exactly what, or who, they were getting involved with.

There was no small print to read, no consultation period in which to weigh their options.

They had to decide in an instant.

Jesus or not?

Their safe familiar present or an unknown future?

I guess the story has added punch for me at the moment – and I'm thankful that I'm preaching to you now that you know our news. The process of exploring an invitation to apply for the Coventry job, of crafting an application and spending 2 days in interviews seems a far cry from that moment on the sea shore – and yet, as I wrestled with God during that December night, trying to decide what to say to the bishop next morning, it seemed clear that it was the same call.

“Follow me.

Are you coming, Kathryn?

Follow me...”

I didn't want to leave this community, the dear people I've been with for almost 6 years...

I didn't feel qualified for the job ahead...I wanted to cling to my safely familiar routines and my lovely vicarage as well...but God reminded me repeatedly that we were on a journey together , that if I was serious about the promises I had made to Him along the way, then the next step was not really optional.

“Follow me. And trust me to take you safely where I need you to go”

And I realised that I had to leave some other things behind too....particularly the burden of insecurity and self-doubt that might stop me believing in God's future at all.

I needed to travel light – just like those fishermen.

They left not just their past career – but a host of other things...things we should all abandon when we turn to follow Christ.

Selfishness, insecurity, prejudice, fear of those who are different, apathy, inertia…things that inhibit our relationships with one another as much as with God.

They left those things behind, - though once or twice in the gospels we hear that they’d returned to claim them (think of the great debate about who would be the right-hand men in the Kingdom!), and needed some help from Jesus in order to lay them aside decisively.

As one who has to relearn the same faith lessons, who often returns to pick up the self-same baggage that I know I should lay down, that's quite encouraging. I'm not alone. Those first disciples made most of the same mistakes that every other disciple has made since...but they never doubted the value of their journey.

You see, it wasn't just about leaving things behind – it was – and is – about heading into a new future.

A change of role – for them (and for me)

Fishers of men?

It’s a great image in its original context – but don't be misled.

At our baptism, we are commissioned to work for God's kingdom, and that is far more than an invitation to a fishing trip.

We hear so much about the mission imperative in the wider church today, and rightly so...

It's part of the Great Commission, the last words that Jesus spoke to his disciples – no longer by the lake but on a mountain top.

“Go and make disciples of all nations...Keep on fishing for people”

The drive to bring others to join us, to draw them into relationship with Christ so that they too may know the joy of his love, - well, that is HUGELY important.

The Church is here today because through the centuries ordinary women and men have shared and lived their faith in ways that made their neighbours, colleagues, family, friends long to live that way as well..

They have been magnetic Christians, drawing others to follow their Leader...and we should be inspired and encouraged by their example.

BUT we need to beware the danger of seeing people as simply targets for our evangelism, to be caught and dragged into the kingdom (or the Church), regardless of how they feel. There are some Christians for whom this calling to mission is so central that they only spend time with people outside the church in an effort to convert them.

That seems very risky – for it dehumanizes people and devalues relationships, turning the world into “them” and “us”…insiders and outsiders…trappers and prey.

Fishers of men - as if we planned to haul people in and serve them up with a side order of chips!

That couldn't be less like Jesus, could it?

Jesus, then and now, meets us where we are, spends time with us so that we are in no doubt at all that we are loved and valued – then challenges us to become our very best selves.

He sees potential where we'd never dream of it – and with His help we can dare to live so that our hidden potential is realised -and invite others to do the same.

You see, though all fish look very similar, there's an endless variety of people for us to introduce to God's love.

Old and young, chatty and quiet, thinkers and doers, the highly successful and the defeated and struggling...

One size, one style of church will NEVER fit all exactly – but we need to be ready to make all welcome even if that sometimes means setting aside things we ourselves have loved.

The church was never intended to be like a pack of fish fingers – processed so that everyone is identical...

Let me say again, this journey we're on leads us to become our best selves...to experience life in all its fulness...and that's worth a bit of risk.

So, as we travel together through these weeks of endings and new beginnings, the central call remains the same “Follow me”...

Follow from the place where we now stand into a future that we can neither fully predict nor wholly control.

Follow believing that the One who called those ordinary blokes from their working day has work for us as well

Follow knowing that all that we have, all that we are, can be given in service to God’s kingdom of justice, peace and love.

We'll sing this later, but let's pray it now:

Lord your summons echoes true when you but call my name.

Let me turn and follow you and never be the same.

In Your company I'll go where Your love and footsteps show.

Thus I'll move and live and grow in you and you in me.

The Secret Something

Since just before Christmas I've been carrying a secret.

Not a very dark and sinister one, it's true, but nonetheless, it has been a struggle.

I'm very definitely extrovert - so keeping something important to myself is completely against my natural inclinations and I'm very relieved to be able to come out at last!

The Bishop of Coventry has invited me to become Canon Pastor of Coventry Cathedral - and after some very intense prayer and reflection, I was delighted to accept.

This means that I will be moving on from St Matthew's at the end of April, - something that is quite hard to contemplate, as I love and value that community greatly and have gained so much from our journey together.

Nevertheless, I'm absolutely confident that God has called me to Coventry - and though I feel decidedly inadequate when I consider the work ahead, I know that "He who calls is faithful".

I'll be installed on 31st May - and very much hope that there will be a good number of friends in the Cathedral that afternoon. I know I'll need all the support I can get!

It feels very strange to be preparing to leave Gloucester diocese, where I've ministered as a Reader, Deacon and Priest for the past 20 years, but I was made so very welcome in Coventry, even amid the pressures and alarms of the interview process, and I'm excited that I will be part of the story of that amazing Cathedral for a little while.

In the weeks ahead, please do pray for me, for the people of St Matthew's and the wider Cainscross community, and for my new colleagues in Coventry too. I've never really understood the story of Abram/Abraham til now!

And if you want to know more about Coventry Cathedral and its great work of reconciliation - the website is here - with a really good video too.

8.00 homily for Epiphany 2A "What are you looking for?"

“What are you looking for?”

If that was the way the sides-people greeted you as you crossed the threshold on a Sunday morning, it might seem rather abrupt - indeed, it might just make you turn tail and flee - but nevertheless it's not a bad beginning.

Indeed, in John's gospel it's the beginning of everything for these first of Christ's disciples.

They've been looking for something for a while. Following John, listening to his words - and when he speaks about Jesus with such confidence, 

 "Here is the Lamb of God !" -- something excites their curiosity. 

They set off to find out more.

Lacking the confidence to approach him directly, they walk a few paces behind him, going where Jesus leads…

Already it seems that he is not so much lamb as shepherd.

Sooner or later, he spots them, turns, holds their gaze.

“What are you looking for?" he asks.

It’s a straightforward question, perfectly reasonable.

If two complete strangers were dogging your every step, you'd want to know why. 

But, of course it is also a question with a host of deeper meanings.

What are they looking for?

There's a song by the rock group U2 that might have been written for today's gospel. It's the story of a quest - climbing the highest mountains, scaling city walls - only to conclude "But I still haven't found  what I’m looking for”

These men have been with John for long enough to be classified as his disciples.

They have responded to his fiery message of repentance – it has touched something in them. 

But it isn’t enough. 

They still haven't found what they're looking for.

John himself has pointed them towards Jesus. 

They are hungry, like so many others, - but hungry for what? 

Hungry for healing?

Hungry for reassurance?

Hungry for change? 

Hungry for justice…? 

Who knows - they certainly don’t.

 All they know is that something is wrong with their world and it needs to be set right, that they still haven’t found what they seek.

“What are you looking for?” asks Jesus, and to this crucial question they really have no answer.

So often the questions of our faith are not the obvious tidy ones…the ones that can be addressed by a catechism or an Alpha course.

We find ourselves here - drawn to church, to faith, by an unnameable, inexplicable longing….the restlessness that Augustine noted when he wrote

“God, you have made us for yourself and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in you”

We wrestle with doubts.

We will not always like the church, or feel certain of our faith. 

We may go through patches when, like T S Eliot’s Magi, we are convinced that “this was all folly”, but somehow we keep coming back, almost despite ourselves.

“What are you looking for?”

It’s a question that could open the door onto all sorts of undreamed of worlds…a question that just might force us to confront the needs and longings that we try to stifle…a question worth asking yourself, I'm sure.

As a priest, it’s a question I don't think I ask enough - though I often try to explore it when parents come to discuss their child's baptism. 

In my anxiety to welcome all comers, I sometimes miss out on the need to challenge them. 

I may know in the depths of my heart that in Christ every human need and longing is met, every anxious question answered - but if I don't explore exactly what it is that brings people through our doors, how can I help to serve them?

I'm very conscious that I've never asked each of you this question...

What brings you here, week after week?

What are your hopes and expectations?

“What are you looking for?”

I'd really love to know.

And the way the disciples respond - isn't it classic! The sort of trivial remark I too tend to blurt out when confronted by a situation that suddenly seems to be rather more intense, more serious that I had bargained for…

I need something to fill the gap, to cover my embarrassment, so I witter away…

“Ummm….(Thinking wildly) .......Where are you staying?”

Jesus’ answer is a simple but wonderful invitation. 

“Come and see!”

Some years ago, I was given this passage to pray with on retreat.

I was asked to place myself somewhere in the story, and so in my imagination, I found myself accompanying the disciples along the river bank , never letting Jesus out of my sight…

Like them I blushed and stuttered as he turned and spoke to me directly…and like them I was unable to resist the invitation to “Come and see”

And that day, as I imagined a small dark room in a sugar cube house (based in my mind’s eye entirely on the line drawings that illustrated the Good News Bible), Jesus invited me to spend the day with him…and at lunch time he took bread, broke it and placed some in my hand.

And then I realised that what I was looking for, the place where he was staying was right there…right here…Jesus in you…Jesus in me…Jesus in bread and wine….

Come and see

Sermon for the Baptism of Christ Year A - 12th January 2014

The liturgical year is a strange and wonderful thing. It's not even 3 weeks since we celebrated the birth of Jesus: today we fast forward 30 years to the start of his adult ministry. It’s as if the Gospel writers were focussing on a series of snapshots from the family album. The opening pages show us the new baby and his first visitors; now we have another family photo frozen in time. When we say the Creed, we’d almost be forgiven for thinking that nothing of note happened between the stable and the cross, but today is a moment of no less public importance, and it’s appropriate that we celebrate it just one week after the Epiphany. Last Sunday, after all, we rejoiced that the glory of God in Jesus Christ was made clear, shown forth, to all the nations…for that is what “epiphany” means. Today is another celebration of the public revelation of Christ’s nature

“this is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased”.

It’s a dramatic scene. John the Baptiser, who has so confidently proclaimed the coming of the Messiah, is confronted by the living reality….but…oh goodness!…it turns out to be his cousin. I wonder how that felt – though John seems to grasp straight away just who stands before him – hence his shock at the idea that he, John, with all his human faults and failings, should presume to baptise the longed-for Messiah. You have to sympathise with his reservations…the baptism he has offered is one of repentance…a washing away of the sins we all struggle with….yet now, Jesus, the sinless one, is seeking baptism for himself. Why??

How can you Christen the Christ – the source of all baptism? How do you graft him into a Church that has yet to be born?

It just doesn't make sense – and his response to John's query is not much help either.

“It’s necessary to fulfil all righteousness”

Actually, on second thoughts, that response is oddly similar to that which so many parents give when they are asked why they seek baptism for their baby

“It’s the right thing to do….”

Hmm

But surely, you say, the baptism of Jesus must be a very different thing from that of a baby in Cainscross in 2014?

I thought that too when I started work on this sermon, but now I’m less convinced.

When Jesus was baptised, nothing essential changed in his relationship with God.

He did nothing extra to deserve that approval which is made explicit here…this was, after all, the start of his adult ministry. God was not applauding his teaching of multitudes, his healings, signs and wonders, for these still lay ahead. At the moment, there is seems nothing remarkable to report, except, perhaps, for obedience.

“to fulfil all righteousness” means, above all, to exist in a right relationship to God, a relationship based on loving humility.

Just as Jesus began his life by emptying himself of his heavenly glory, so he now begins his ministry by submitting humbly to baptism.

And as he does so he is proclaimed

“my Son..the beloved..”

Here a pre-existing truth is made clear – a truth which holds good for each one of us…we too are beloved of God, without any need to earn that love.

Though baptism is an initiation, it is not an initiation into a relationship with our heavenly Father, as if, when the baptismal water flows over us, God should suddenly exclaim

“Oh look! It’s Kathryn. Now I recognise her!”

Baptism changes nothing on God’s side. Rather it clarifies for our benefit something that has always, incredibly, been there, beyond our wildest dreams or deserts.

We are, each of us, God’s beloved, with whom he is well pleased.

Yes…but….surely Baptism demands something of us too?? After all, Jesus came to baptism immediately before he began his public ministry…it acted as a kind of commissioning, almost an ordination. A friend told me about a church in America where a new priest arrived and, wishing to make his parish office his own, positioned his ordination certificate prominently over the desk. The parish secretary, seeing this, said proudly “I have one of those too” and produced from her own desk her baptism certificate. She recognised the truth that baptism, far from being a one-off event is part of a process by which we each become more Christ-like. Not “I was baptised” but “I AM baptised”

the ordination of each of us into the royal priesthood of all believers…

That's our fundamental, lifelong calling. For us, baptism is the beginning of a journey with and towards God…Though it doesn’t depend in any way upon us and our fitness for the task, it does lay obligations upon us : to live the lives of those who have been baptised into Christ’s death so that we may share in his resurrection.

There's been a lot of water in the news in the past couple of weeks...dangerous, destructive, sweeping sea walls away, covering low lying ground, even claiming lives...I'm sure many would currently sympathise with the ancient Israelites, for whom the sea was the emblem of chaos, and who looked forward to the time when it would have no more influence on their world. We know that water is essential to life – but we know too that all waters can be dangerous, and those of baptism perhaps most of all.

Baptism is, truly, a kind of death…of self…of the old order…of anything that rebels against God’s rule of love. We cannot expect to go down into those waters and emerge unchanged…

When we are baptised, the cross is traced on our foreheads…it remains there as an invisible sign of the event that has taken place and a reminder of the shape that our lives should take from then on. Each of us is commissioned to make that sign visible once more, in the way that we live out our baptism. The way in which Jesus lived his life from this defining moment of initiation into his ministry led him inexorably to the cross….but beyond the cross, for him as for us, the Resurrection beckons.

“this is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased”

That is the stupendous message of grace that is available to each of us…

A son, for the Biblical writers, is one who inherits not just the family name and estate, but all the honour due to the father. Sharing his father's name, a good son can act in that name and with that authority. The family honour -- or the family shame -- is his. The family business is his business.

Thus, when we say that Jesus is God's son, we are making a claim for and about Jesus. We're asserting that Jesus has authority to act in God's name, that God is honoured when we honour Jesus, that all that Jesus did represents him simply going about the family business.

"Like father, like son,".

It works both ways,too.

When we say that Jesus is God's son, going about the family business, we're not just saying that Jesus is like God; we are saying that God is like Jesus. We are saying that what Jesus did – his championship of those on the edge, his refusal to play by the world's rules, his overwhelming sacrificial love -- was God's business on earth. Indeed, we're saying that the best framework through which we can interpret what God's business on earth looks like is Jesus' behaviour.

In other words, God's business on earth is "Yahweh and Sons" (and daughters, of course!). As God's children, we are co-heirs with Christ. God's business is our business, and carrying out that business in the style of our elder brother Jesus is what we are FOR. As God's children, God's compassion and God's mission are at the core of our identity. It is this to which we are commissioned at baptism…this which makes baptism not a one off…a snap shot in the album of our lives…but the very centre of our beings as Christians.

“this is my beloved Son…”

God’s words are heard by the crowd, so that their impact is unmissable.

From now on, there is to be no doubt about the primary relationship in Jesus’ life.

He is to be seen, supremely, as God’s Son and his whole life is defined in terms of that relationship.

That is our calling too...as we seek to live out our baptism vows so that

the invisible sign of the cross becomes clear, and we too can be recognised by our family likeness “this is my beloved child, with whom I am well pleased”