To Kill a Mocking Bird - thought for the day for Southwark 18th August 2026

One of the particular pleasures of finding myself back in London at this stage of life is that I feel able to engage with the huge range of culture that is there, just a bus ride away Last time round, in my twenties, I somehow lacked the courage – though I did have 2 memorable years with a season ticket to the Proms. Now, however, I’m doing all that I can to catch up with myself – so last night we went en famille to see  the stage adaptation of To Kill a Mocking Bird.

You’re probably familiar with the story – but just in case…To Kill a Mockingbird is a novel written in the 1960s, amid the struggles of the US Civil Rights movement by Harper Lee, but set in the mid-1930s in the small town of Maycomb, Alabama. It is narrated by Scout Finch, a six-year-old tomboy who lives with her lawyer father Atticus and older brother Jem. 

While the book includes far more about growing up in that context, the play by Aaron Sorkin majors on the second part of Lee's work, and the trial of Tom Robinson,  a black man wrongly accused of raping a white woman, whom Atticus agrees to defend. The inherent racism of small town America at this time means that justice just doesn’t stand a chance. Simply to look at the jury of respectable white citizens is to know the inevitable verdict, regardless of any evidence to the contrary… 

Although Atticus’s defense is strong, Tom is convicted, and he is later killed while trying to escape custody…a death compared to “the senseless slaughter of songbirds,” which echoes Atticus’s comment to his children that it is “a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

Like the book, the play is extremely powerful and equally painful. 

What made last night yet more remarkable, though, was the fact that to reach Wyndham’s Theatre we had to walk through Trafalgar Square, shortly before the vigil for Jason Arday

My friend  Ayla, who was part of the evening described it thus

"30,000 people. Silence, music, words of kindness and solidarity, and so many flowers. Artists, musicians, MPs, activists, friends, colleagues. Every person gathered because we all know that racist cruelty and violence need to end. Pauli Murray said that ‘hope is a song in a weary throat’."

Whether or not the allegations of plagiarism that led to his resignation are founded on  truth, there seems to be no doubt whatsoever that Professor Ardhay was hounded in the media in ways that would be intolerable for anyone, - most of all someone made vulnerable by their neuro divergence. 

When this treatment is compared with that meted out to other academics facing similar allegations, most of whom have continued their careers unscathed, it is impossible not to believe that the media witch hunt arose because Jason Ardhay was not only neuro divergent but black.

I won't labour the point further. Atticus Finch is an optimist, encouraging his children to respect their neighbours however abhorrent their views, to try to empathise by imagining themselves in the skin or those whom they would otherwise fear, tobelieve that there is good in everyone. He's right of course -for each of us is made in the image of  God, so that stepping from the fictional world to that gathering in Trafalgar Square, those many Christians present there, and each of us as we pray, should ask for the grace not to demonise anyone, even those who seem responsible for Ardhays untimely death 

But we need, too, to ask for the strength and courage to speak out against ANYTHING that seems to dehumanize any individual or group. Last nights play ends with a reminder of that verse from ps30

Weeping may endure for the night but joy cometh in the morning...

We need to weep...but we need to work so that these words may be true in our time...despite the gathering shadows of the far right and those who provide fuel for their thinking.

Weeping...

so I'm clinging to the reminder from the Benedictus

In the tender compassion of our God ...

Humble Crumble for Southwar, 16th August, Trinity 11 2026

 It probably wont surprise you that as a Precentor I really love liturgy. In particular I love the Colects, which are strung through the years Sunday bySundsy like a neclace of precious jewels. I'm not sure if I actually have a favourite though Acent Sunday and Lent are string contenders..,but I love how the words contain and support my prayers. 

 

 

When the liturgical revisions that led to Common Worship began, it turned out that there were various prayers that had embedded themselves deep into the hearts and minds of those Anglicans reared on the Book of Common Prayer…Prayers so beloved that they simply HAD to be included in the new liturgies. 

I imagine some of you are already busy scrolling through your mental archives, working out which prayers are on your own non-negotiable list – and you may well have landed in the same place as countless others. 

 

The prayer in question is the one that refers directly to this morning’s gospel 

“We do not presume to come to this thy table O merciful Lord 

Trusting in our righteousness but in thy manifold and great mercies. 

We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table 

But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy….” 

 

There it is. Humble crumble. A beautiful prayer, reminding us that when it comes to the life of faith, there’s nothing we can do to earn the invitation that God freely offers. It’s all about God’s own nature….ALWAYS to have mercy… 

 

And yet, as we reflect on this morning’s gospel, it seems for a devastating moment or two that things might have turned out very differently…that the invitation would be not so much freely given as entirely exclusive. 

 

Which makes this morning’s reading pretty uncomfortable I think.  

Its very essence is a series of contradictions, which unsettle us repeatedly, so that we don't honestly know what to expect...any more than the disciples did as they lived through these events. 

 

The longer version of this morning’s gospel presents a contradiction between Jesus's challenge to the established boundaries of Judaism, represented by the dietary laws, as he asserts that it is not what goes in but what comes out of the mouth that renders anyone unclean – shortly followed by his insistence that he is “sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”. 

 

Worse, his harsh words to a desperate mother who only wants help for her child seem in themselves to contradict all we thought we knew about a loving, compassionate Jesus... 

He seems to step right out of character and, instead of welcoming the Canaanite woman with his customary grace, he not only rebuffs her but actually refers to her as a DOG. 

 

As many of you know, I’m very much a dog lover - indeed my children used to comment that actually, I probably WOULD take their food and offer it to the dogs if push came to shove – but I'm afraid Jesus is really NOT talking about a much loved pet...any dogs about the place in 1st century Palestine would be street dogs, pariahs whose mangy descendants gather in packs to this day...Its those dogs whom the psalmist This really isn't a term of endearment.  

 

Hard though it is to hear this, Jesus is pretty much calling that anxious mother a bitch,  saying without compunction that as Gentiles, she and her daughter are not fully human, that they’re therefore beyond the scope of his love and his healing. 

“It’s not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs” 

 

Ooof. It’s so hard to hear this.  

 

I want to retain my soft focus image of Jesus, the source of endless compassion – and I expect you do too. But instead there is this abrasive stranger, snapping at a woman who is only doing what she can for her beloved child. 

 

However, the Canaanite woman is made of stern stuff, and refuses to go away quietly. 

Driven by that strongest of all emotions, parental love, she responds in kind, picking up Jesus’s words and turning them back on him. 

We may be dogs, but surely you’re not so mean that you begrudge us even the left-overs. 

She refuses to take No for an answer… 

And in doing so, she stops Jesus in his tracks. 

Against his own expectations, he is forced into really seeing her, - another human being, a child of God…and what he sees makes him change his mind in a radical way. 

 

What, - Jesus change his mind? 

 

Surely not!  

As God’s Son, Jesus must be perfect…the unmoved mover, no shadow of turning, right? 

Or have we just hit another contradiction. 

I rather think we have..  

The Jesus who is fully human must – MUST – have learned...and to learn is to be changed by your growing knowledge. 

He learned, he grew, and sometimes he changed his mind.  

There’s so much more going on here than just an exchange of banter, for surely Jesus is forced to rethink the scope of his mission. 

 

Jesus changed his mind. 

 

Think about it. 

Think about it if you are tempted, ever, to assert that your own understanding of faith or of Scripture means that you need not to listen to the views of others. 

There is always room for another point of view… 

 

It’s hard not to sympathise with the Jews, who believe themselves to be the insiders, on a fast track to Salvation, - their destiny secure simply because of who they are – the children of the covenant.  

 

In our society, and in our church, we can surely think of behaviour that matches theirs, of insiders who guard their corners, and cannot believe in a God whose heart and vision are larger than anything we can encompass… 

Those who perceive difference as a threat. 

Those who cling to narrow horizons and view any kind of change as unwelcome. 

 

But if we take Scripture seriously, our limited view is inevitably challenged.  

In Scripture we meet a God who listens and changes his mind, whose unlimited love seem almost to surprise himself. 

In Scripture, we encounter a God who is changed by his relationships, a God who is moved by the prayers of his children, and acts in unexpected ways to answer them.  

In Scripture, above all, we meet a God who is love, and cannot remain unmoved by the beloved. 

 

 

 

So let's rejoice at the contradictions – because in this passage Jesus comes to realise that his mission – and his love – are for all humanity – not just for the chosen race. God chooses EVERYONE and welcomes them, not to gather crumbs under the table but to sit and feast with the whole household of God, where we all have a place, forever.. 

 

 probably wont surprise you that as a Precentor I really love liturgy. In particular I love the Colects, which are strung through the years Sunday bySundsy like a neclace of precious jewels. I'm not sure if I actually have a favourite though Acent Sunday and Lent are string contenders..,but I love how the words contain and support my prayers.

When the liturgical revisions that led to Common Worship began, it turned out that there were various prayers that had embedded themselves deep into the hearts and minds of those Anglicans reared on the Book of Common Prayer…Prayers so beloved that they simply HAD to be included in the new liturgies.

I imagine some of you are already busy scrolling through your mental archives, working out which prayers are on your own non-negotiable list – and you may well have landed in the same place as countless others.

The prayer in question is the one that refers directly to this morning’s gospel

“We do not presume to come to this thy table O merciful Lord

Trusting in our righteousness but in thy manifold and great mercies.

We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table

But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy….”

There it is. Humble crumble. A beautiful prayer, reminding us that when it comes to the life of faith, there’s nothing we can do to earn the invitation that God freely offers. It’s all about God’s own nature….ALWAYS to have mercy…

And yet, as we reflect on this morning’s gospel, it seems for a devastating moment or two that things might have turned out very differently…that the invitation would be not so much freely given as entirely exclusive.

Which makes this morning’s reading pretty uncomfortable I think. 

Its very essence is a series of contradictions, which unsettle us repeatedly, so that we don't honestly know what to expect...any more than the disciples did as they lived through these events.

The longer version of this morning’s gospel presents a contradiction between Jesus's challenge to the established boundaries of Judaism, represented by the dietary laws, as he asserts that it is not what goes in but what comes out of the mouth that renders anyone unclean shortly followed by his insistence that he is sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

Worse, his harsh words to a desperate mother who only wants help for her child seem in themselves to contradict all we thought we knew about a loving, compassionate Jesus...

He seems to step right out of character and, instead of welcoming the Canaanite woman with his customary grace, he not only rebuffs her but actually refers to her as a DOG.

As many of you know, I’m very much a dog lover - indeed my children used to comment that actually, I probably WOULD take their food and offer it to the dogs if push came to shove – but I'm afraid Jesus is really NOT talking about a much loved pet...any dogs about the place in 1st century Palestine would be street dogs, pariahs whose mangy descendants gather in packs to this day...Its those dogs whom the psalmist This really isn't a term of endearment. 

Hard though it is to hear this, Jesus is pretty much calling that anxious mother a bitch, saying without compunction that as Gentiles, she and her daughter are not fully human, that theyre therefore beyond the scope of his love and his healing.

“Its not right to take the childrens bread and throw it to the dogs

Ooof. Its so hard to hear this. 

I want to retain my soft focus image of Jesus, the source of endless compassion and I expect you do too. But instead there is this abrasive stranger, snapping at a woman who is only doing what she can for her beloved child.

However, the Canaanite woman is made of stern stuff, and refuses to go away quietly.

Driven by that strongest of all emotions, parental love, she responds in kind, picking up Jesuss words and turning them back on him.

We may be dogs, but surely youre not so mean that you begrudge us even the left-overs.

She refuses to take No for an answer

And in doing so, she stops Jesus in his tracks.

Against his own expectations, he is forced into really seeing her, - another human being, a child of Godand what he sees makes him change his mind in a radical way.

What, - Jesus change his mind?

Surely not! 

As Gods Son, Jesus must be perfectthe unmoved mover, no shadow of turning, right?

Or have we just hit another contradiction.

I rather think we have.. 

The Jesus who is fully human must MUST have learned...and to learn is to be changed by your growing knowledge.

He learned, he grew, and sometimes he changed his mind. 

Theres so much more going on here than just an exchange of banter, for surely Jesus is forced to rethink the scope of his mission.

Jesus changed his mind.

Think about it.

Think about it if you are tempted, ever, to assert that your own understanding of faith or of Scripture means that you need not to listen to the views of others.

There is always room for another point of view…

Its hard not to sympathise with the Jews, who believe themselves to be the insiders, on a fast track to Salvation, - their destiny secure simply because of who they are – the children of the covenant. 

In our society, and in our church, we can surely think of behaviour that matches theirs, of insiders who guard their corners, and cannot believe in a God whose heart and vision are larger than anything we can encompass…

Those who perceive difference as a threat.

Those who cling to narrow horizons and view any kind of change as unwelcome.

But if we take Scripture seriously, our limited view is inevitably challenged. 

In Scripture we meet a God who listens and changes his mind, whose unlimited love seem almost to surprise himself.

In Scripture, we encounter a God who is changed by his relationships, a God who is moved by the prayers of his children, and acts in unexpected ways to answer them. 

In Scripture, above all, we meet a God who is love, and cannot remain unmoved by the beloved.

So let's rejoice at the contradictions because in this passage Jesus comes to realise that his mission and his love are for all humanity not just for the chosen race. God chooses EVERYONE and welcomes them, not to gather crumbs under the table but to sit and feast with the whole household of God, where we all have a place, forever..

 

Sermon for Southwark Cathedral, 1st Sunday after Trinity, 7th June 2026

How are you feeling this morning?

Did you arrive Bright eyed and bushy tailed, counting your blessings and fired up to say thank you?

Or have you had one of those weeks that leaves you feeling a tad battered, crawling in to lick your wounds and trusting that God understands exactly how you feel and will sit quietly holding you until you feel better?

Or are you, like me, somewhere in the middle...limping a little but always conscious of the love that holds me steady, more or less, no matter what.

I suspect however you feel, it won't be hard to place yourself somewhere in this mornings gospel. Let's journey through it together, in search of occasions of hope and joy...

My first incumbency was in a church dedicated to S Matthew so over my years there I've spent  alot of time engaging with the story of his call.

As Jesus went on from there, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax collector's booth. "Follow me," he told him, and Matthew got up and followed him.

You’d imagine that the next few verses would involve an intent theological discussion about just where Matthew has gone wrong, where he thinks he is going now or possibly Jesus unrolling his credentials as the Messiah, and inviting the assembled company to rejoice.

But it's never that simple is it.

Some of you might be able to identify with Matthew, in that instant obedience to a call to follow…in the radical departure from everything that has been familiar…everything that has provided the backdrop to your life so far…but for many of us faith has more in common with evolution than sudden conversion, so perhaps you'd prefer to join me among the guests at this disturbingly edgy, uncomfortable party.

That’s always the problem when mixing with Jesus – he will invite his friends along, and too often they just aren’t desirable types.

It’s not enough that he picks up Matthew from the tax collector’s booth…once back at Matthew’s house, the company gets even worse.

Where do you think you might fit in that crowd? Are you partying with Jesus, or looking on anxiously with the Pharisees?

You know, they really did have a point...It’s a truth that has been known and passed on by parents for millennia...Bad company can corrupt good character.

As gatekeepers preserving the integrity of the traditions of Israel, the Pharisees are terrified of anything that might dilute the purity of God’s chosen people. There's lots in Scripture to support them. How come Jesus is so happy to consort with those who so are obviously identifiable as sinners. Why does Jesus care so little.? There are all these nice people waiting politely for a chat, yet he prefers  the bad company at the edge of the room.

 Maybe that's where you'd place yourself, if youre unsure of your welcome, feel more like an onlooker than a participant....Perhaps you prefer to stand among the outsiders, the barely tolerated, those whom respectable society prefers to scapegoat.  Its not the safest place to be but actually, that's where you'll most likely find Jesus....hunkering down, talking, listening, drying tears

Last night the Fourth Choir sang a Requiem for such as them: the LGBTQ souls put to death across the world and,yes,  in our own country as recently as 1835 ...No mercy for them from state or community...simply exclusion and hatred...from their neighbours at least, but never from God.

God in Christ sees past their wounds and bitterness of their current state, and connects not with the distortions and handicaps of damaged lives but with the precious children of God beneath…embraces their potential, meets them in their longing

Not what thou art, nor what thou hast been but what thou wouldst be beholdest God in God's mercy

For Jesus that day, Matthew is not a hated symbol of Roman oppression and personal greed – he’s a lonely man in need of a purpose and a community, ready to change and be changed by his encounter.

Mercy, notv acrifice

But before we can hear more of this,the party is crashed by a distraught father, introduced first in terms of his status...“a leader of the synagogue” – one of the great and good, an insider– one who, according to the pharisaic approach, should be sure of God’s favour worked out in an easy life of blessing.

But something has gone wrong. He’s dealing with that worst of all parental nightmares, the death of a child.

I guess that many of us will ally ourselves with him if we set out to pray this passage…will offer to God our own urgent entreaties for the continued safety of those we hold most dear, or lament the suffering of innocent children across the world today.

Dear God, why don't you DO something, This can't be right.

It’s to this urgency that Jesus responds. In an echo of the opening verses, we hear now that it’s Jesus who gets up and follows – responding not to the man’s importance but to his need, which trumps identity as surely here as for Matthew.

Let's follow in his wake. Perhaps we can help...

But there’s yet another interruption to the flow of the story, another change of gear and direction.

Another outsider – a woman, and one with a haemorrhage at that….Someone who has waited for 12 years on the margins of society…weakened by the constant bleeding that leaves her all but invisible to observant Jews…

She is doubly outcast – but her need cries out to Jesus with all the power that she herself lacks.

She may not have the courage to ask, but, like Matthew and the tax collectors and sinners at the table, she receives freely the healing she most needs. Ti's mercy all...

At this point in the story, things become alarmingly apposite for me…One of the struggles of ministry, as of any job without firm boundaries, is the way that the urgent so often drives out the important. Jesus is on a life and death mission to a child…surely a case of blue light and loud sirens, of the utmost urgency…BUT here is a woman who no longer dares to voice her own troubles, yet who has the courage to act to address them.

She has waited 12 years, - so this is scarcely urgent – but it is hugely important – for her and for us.

This is what Jesus recognises…

So he stops. He takes the time, even amid his headlong mercy dash, not only to heal her but to relate to her and restore her to community

“Take heart, daughter…Your faith has made you well”

She is given a new identity – no longer the woman with no name, but an adopted child.

She, who has nothing, is given credit for her own healing

“Your faith has made you well”

The important takes priority over the urgent…The outsider is given precedence over the pillar of society…and as Jesus delays, a child lies dead.

Terrifying.

Do you even WANT to be in this story now?

Maybe this is one morning when we could comfortably turn over the page…

And yet, and yet, the truth is that we are all in this story, like it or not., for here in microcosm is Gods great love story in which we all belong,

 Dare you lift your gaze beyond the moment of tragedy to see another miracle of restoration...

Restoration of life to the child, of hope andcjoy to her father

Restoration for those with needs that are glaringly obvious to the world…or so deeply hidden that we have yet to acknowledge them to ourselves…

Each of us is dependent on God’s grace and mercy…

Each of us would be lost if Jesus didn’t call us…

When Jesus mixed with the tax collectors and sinners, the Pharisees feared that someone might be changed by the encounter.

Jesus was sure that they would be

Because our transformation is the heart of his mission, then as now…

“I come not to call the righteous but sinners to repentence”

Have you found yourself in the story yet?

I promise you have a place

So....take a moment to thank the One who calls you from sin to salvation, from the margins to the centre, from exclusion to welcome , from death to life as he makes all things new

 

 

TH“Thinking aloud...

 Goodness  - I knew I'd not been here for a while, but really had not appreciated how long. Since Meta decided that linking to blogs on FB was a subversive and dangerous activity, I've tended to just paste preaches there...but I'm kind of fond of this space, that has been somewhere to think aloud in company for more than 20 years now, so I'm reluctant to abandon it entirely.

That being so, and in no particular order, here are a few recent meanderings. This one from last week...

“Not even in Israel have I found such faith”

My late and much-loved father in law, Mark- who had retired from a distinguished career as a senior army officer used to insist that this line in Luke’s narrative was positive proof that Jesus had a sense of humour.

His thinking was that when the centurion insisted that his staff were always obedient “I am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me…and I say to one “Go” and he goes and to another “Come” and he comes, Jesus felt that he was being comically naïve. Mark, with his experience of commanding soldiers, felt that the sub-text to Jesus’s words was something along the lines of “If you’ll believe that, you’ll believe anything”

I’m not sure - though I love that whenever I hear this story it makes me remember Mark and smile. It does, though, encourage me to think about the nature of faith as it is presented here. If we take Jesus’s words as a simple statement of fact, why is it that the centurion displays faith greater than Jesus has encountered within the Jewish community? Community leaders have vouched for the man, for he has excellent inter-faith credentials which encourage Jesus to head towards his house, - but before they can even meet, he sends his messengers with that extraordinary protestation

Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof but only say the word and let my servant be healed

This man is a senior officer in the occupying army – yet based purely on what he has heard of Jesus, he recognises a greater authority than the might of Rome. While others might have questioned his wisdom in inviting the itinerant rabbi to his home, the centurion feels that his home is not fit to welcome Jesus at all…that he himself is not fit…

So his extraordinary faith emerges as part of his clear vision – he knows exactly where to turn.

That faith gains power from the urgency of his need: the centuion cares about his servant deeply. He longs for him to be well….And that longing fuels his belief that in Jesus all our deepest needs can be met.

I’m intrigued by his phrasing “LET my servant be healed”. It suggests to me that the broad sweep of everything is towards wholeness and healing…that sometimes there are short term barriers, but that Jesus can intervene to clear those barriers with only a word, so that the destiny of the centurion’s servant, the destiny of all those for whom we pray, is caught up in that tendency to a final restoration. Often, regardless of our faith, we don’t get to see that healing instantly…Sometimes, that's not enough for us, especially when death over-takes us or those for whom we pray before those prayers are answered….but  nonetheless, I believe that the over-arching narrative gives us a clear path. It's outlined in the Good Friday prayer

let the whole world see and know that things which were being cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord;

Ye Holy Angels Bright - Sermon for 9.00 Michaelmas Sunday at Southwark

As you may know, for some 9 years I served as the Canon Pastor, Precentor and Sub-Dean at the Cathedral Church or St Michael, Coventry…9 years of celebrating a Michaelmas Patronal and listening with all my power to rumours of angels, near and far. When I stood behind the altar there I viewed the world outside through the etched glass of the great West Screen, which makes, in effect, the fourth wall of Basil Spence’s cathedra…so as I celebrated Eucharist, the madly dancing company of John Hutton angels were always part of the equation. Here they are rather more dignified, though in all their gilded splendour they are certainly never understated as they take their places around our altars.

Angels are beings of poetry and wonder…they point to something far greater than we can comprehend…keep us learning the lesson that Jacob learned, that “Surely the Lord is in this place”

Angels remind us of the overwhelming mystery at the heart of God.though we often try to domesticate them, just as we try to domesticate God.

 

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John

Bless the bed that I lie on

Four corners to my bed

Four angels there be spread

One to watch and one to pray

And two to bear my soul away

 

In the bedtime prayers of my childhood there seemed little difference between the evangelists – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – and the shining guardian angels whom I was certain were my overnight companions....

I loved those angels, believed in them implicitly – and still at this Michaelmas season, I find myself dreaming happily of wondrous golden beings whose presence reassures me that all is well with the world.

In that I guess I'm in good company. Angels are hugely popular today. Gift shops can rely on selling any number of angel trinkets...books of angel stories walk off the shelves at a time when public interest in more mainstream expressions of faith seems at a very low ebb. People LIKE the idea of heavenly beings charged with taking care of us....a reassurance that we are not on our own in a hostile universe.

But, you know, the Biblical experience of angels is very very different.

Often their arrival seems to be anything but reassuring – and perhaps that's why every angelic appearance in the New Testament opens with the words

“Don't be afraid”

Annunciation, Resurrection, Ascension...

Heaven in all its dazzling splendour breaks into our world. Time is interrupted by eternity

It's alarming stuff right enough – even before we've discovered quite what it is that the angel has to say.

Just think of the most famous angelic appearance of all.....Gabriel's mission to Mary.

Imagine yourself as that teenage girl, minding her own business in an obscure corner of the Roman Empire.

Hear those words spoken to you.

“Do not be afraid Mary – for you have found favour with God. You will bear a son”

BEAR A SON!

Me?!?!

No wonder Gabriel feels the need to begin the conversation by speaking reassurance.

“Do not be afraid...”

Words that suggest that he knows he has already lost that particular battle!

And só often that's how it seems.

Angels break into our world as messengers of heaven – and their tidings turn the world upside down. Like a stone dropped into a pond, their messages ripple outwards, touching and changing many lives in ways we could never imagine. 

Well, at least that’s what they did in Bible times.

But what of that persistent belief that God STILL sends messengers into this world, to remind us of God’s continuing commitment to humanity. I’ve never seen a shining being clothed in white, with maybe the hint of wings in the brightness around them – but I have had two experiences of angels. Or at least, I think I have.

One was on Low Sunday in a little Cotswold church, part of the benefice where we lived when my children were small, the place that fostered my vocation to ordained ministry. It was a happy church, a church that understood community – but it was also a very elderly church. I and my children were generally the only ones present who were not well into retirement – and the last thing that would EVER happen there was dance…

Except, on this one day, the recessional hymn was, wonderfully, Lord of the dance…and still more wonderfully as we reached the chorus at the end of the first verse, 2 strangers stepped out of the pew behind us, took my older children by the hand and pulled them into a wonderful, joyous circle dance in which, somehow, we were all caught up without knowing how or why…so that when we reached the final verse “they cut me down but I leapt up high, I am the life that will never never die I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me, I am the Lord of the dance said he”…there was not a vestige of doubt anywhere in that church.

It was, as I say, the Cotswolds…We were used to people appearing at the parish Eucharist while they were staying in the village – except that afterwards, these particular people seemed to have disappeared. Did they just slip out before the final Blessing. Probably…but…I’ll always wonder, because they rekindled the resurrection hope so very powerfully that day.

Surely, the Lord is in this place…

Ten years later I was in my 2^nd year of curacy, loving so much of parish ministry but sometimes frustrated at the way the Church seemed to get in the way of simply introducing people to God’s love. My title parish was at the friendly catholic end of the spectrum – liturgy mattered, the Eucharist was absolutely central, and if was very important that we prayed the Daily Office no matter what…But Morning Prayer was always an insiders service – not something  to which I could ever imagine inviting one of the young mums from Toddler Church…I enjoyed praying the office with my training incumbent but really struggled with it when I had to pray alone…That morning my TI was away so I went up to church somewhat reluctantly, rang the bell as custom dictated, and then wandered into the Lady Chapel for the Office. To my surprise there was a young man there. We chatted for a bit, and he asked if it would be alright if he stayed for Morning Prayer. "Alright?" I was delighted…We prayed together, and I offered many and repeated apologies for the need to dart back and forth, to follow the leadings of the multi coloured ribbons, to engage with a lectionary that seemed set, that day, to offer absolutely NOTHING to inspire or comfort at all. To my delight, he stayed to the end, and afterwards he told me that just a few months before he, an atheist with no grounding in faith at all, had had such a powerful experience of God that he had been checking out churches ever since. He told me of his various visits around the diocese…and my heart sank as I imagined how we might compare with some of the more dynamic congregations he had encountered.

They are all SO DIFFERENT  he marvelled …itsn’t it wonderful….and I have met God in every single one of them. EVERY SINGLE ONE

He was absolutely clear “Surely, the Lord is in this place…and that one…and there too and yes…even THERE”

If ever a message, a dose of unexpected good news was needed, it was that morning…And the angel departed from me – having sowed seeds of encouragement that I have returned to time and again in the years that followed. Once again, the angel (a very ordinary, if unexpected young man) brought good news…

Perhaps my childhood self wasn't that far out in confusing the saints and the angels of that poem!

And perhaps that's where we come in. We are not, surely, to be content to be passive recipients of the Good News the angels bring...Like them, we have a calling to point out those surprising places where God is at work in our world só that others too may see and celebrate

Surely the Lord IS in this place

And, for ourselves, having noted God at work we are to join in the ceaseless chorus of praise that resounds throughout creation

“Therefore with angels and archangels and with all the company of heaven we laud and magnify thy holy name

Evermore praising thee and saying “Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of hosts. Heaven and earth are full of thy glory. Glory be to thee O Lord most high”

Thought for the day, 7th October 2025. What large stones!

 Last month I was privileged to spend 3 days in Rome with the Precentors’ conference – and was struck once again by a city built to impress, - from the Coliseum’s celebration of Imperial power and imperial cruelty, through the majesty of St Peter’s Basilica and Square to the wild excess of the wedding cake, the Victor Emmanuel II monument, celebrating Italy’s graduation from a “geographical expression” to a fully fledged country in its own right. Through the ages, Roman architects have understood the power of their projects to wow pilgrims and citizens alike. To walk through St Peter’s, in all its baroque splendour is to find yourself bombarded on every side by a supreme confidence that is frankly enviable…Here the Church militant seems to have confused itself with the church triumphant – built to impress, yes of course – but also built to last.

I’m sure that through the centuries the walls have heard many many variations on “What large stones and what large buildings…” and even in this age of growing secularism when the kind of unshakeable faith represented in marble and mosaic seems to be in short supply, we can’t help but wonder. Did they have it right, those whom we have largely forgotten, but whose visions and endeavours still stand for all to see? Were they on the right track, and we with our doubts and questionings simply rather feeble in our lack of confidence.

Not, I think, if we read this morning’s gospel. Yesterday Dean Mark reminded us that his namesake evangelist places Jesus “opposite the treasury” – in opposition to its demands and practices in every way. Today Jesus is sitting opposite the Temple, his presence outside the sacred space presenting a challenge to all that it represents. More, he speaks into the uncertainty of an age that was every bit as troubled and troubling as our own, keying into the apocalyptic tradition in his anticipation of wars and rumours of wars, alarm and despondency. That’s the whole point of apocalyptic. As Nadia BW puts it

Apocalyptic literature existed to proclaim a big, hope-filled idea that dominant powers are not ultimate powers. Empires fall. Tyrants fade. Systems die. God is still around.” You get that? Jesus says, “Do not be alarmed.”

God is still around. Those who endure to the end will be saved…saved, no matter what happens to them physically, because they understand at the core of their beings that the large stones and large buildings are ultimately as transient as our own brief lives. I found it easy to preach on these words when I was working in Coventry Cathedral, with its graphic reminder that even the most splendid buildings are liable to be thrown down, victims of their own success in representing a power that is rooted in the physical world . The ruined medieval cathedral of St Michael prevented us from ever putting too much faith in the solidity of any human construction> It reminded us, too, of the scars that we all gather as we travel through life…and encourages us, always, to place our faith and our security somewhere else.

Listen, then, to Richard Rohr: “The necessary detachment from this ugly and injurious present political climate depends upon our inner attachment to the mystery of God’s unbounded grace and divine, creative love. That is the foundation from which we can witness to truth, nurture community, and build essential bonds of solidarity with those who suffer.

As we look into the eye of a political and philosophical storm in which we are encouraged to put our faith in a distorted version of national solidarity, and to confuse strength and integrity with bluster and deceit, that’s a good reminder for all of us. Yes, it’s going to be a truly ungodly mess…but our God has always been willing to wade into the thick of those messes we create by our own sinful intransigence, and it is from there, in the midst of our broken lives and broken dreams, that God’s power is most actively at work.So hold on. It’s not about large stones and large buildings. It never has been.

All our hope on God is founded.

Hold on to that, remembering that there, and there alone, is the door to salvation.