Leap Day

Every four years, when this predictable but somehow unexpected gift of a day comes round, I determine to use it well. 
Perhaps this year I'll write a poem, or visit a long lost friend.
Maybe I should hold a party, or send letters to everyone I love, explaining just how important they are to me.
Whatever I do, surely the day can't be just ordinary. 

And yet, when it arrives, that's exactly what it is.
Tempting, then, to be disappointed.
I haven't done anything amazing.
I've just lived.

Except - isn't THAT extraordinary? 
I'm already almost three years older than my mother was when she died. 
That's a gift in itself.
And I've seen places and met people I would never have expected to.

More, I've had the delight of watching one of my children become a parent, and discovered just how overwhelming the joy of grand-babies can be.

According to my calculations I've been given 15 of these bonus Leap Days so far...and yes, that's fun but actually it's no more amazing than the fact that I woke up this morning and have done so reliably through almost 60 years. 

So, today has simply reminded me that all time is a gift. I am particularly good at squandering it, but at least today has reminded me to be thankful.

Ash Wednesday

"Lord, let me know mine end, and the number of my days" sang the visiting singers tonight's Ash Wednesday Eucharist.
Choir half term, so no Allegri for us in Coventry, but as the voices wove around one another, in the courtly dance that is the middle section of Maurice Greene''s setting of the psalm 39, it didn't much matter.
The graceful interchange of voices belied the words
"Man walketh as a vain shadow"
Not a hint of futility here, but rather gently ordered beauty, soothing the soul.

The paradox of the setting is a good one for today, ostensibly  heavy with foreboding,  the intimations inescapable of mortality.
"Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return", I say, over and over again, tracing the cross as best I can on faces known and unfamiliar.
It ought to feel portentous, is certainly solemn, but is redeemed both by the inescapable intimacy that connects us all in our fragile, time-limited physicality , and by the second sentence I get to share.
"Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ".
Diagnosis and cure delivered in two short sentences.
"Let me know mine end"

At the lunchtime Eucharist we gather under the gaze of saints and angels on the West Screen, the leaden skies supporting the message of the death that is the inescapable lot of each and every person there. Yes, even that delightful baby, and the little girl who watches,  warily, from the front row.
"You are dust...."
But then,  as the people come to me one by one, something wonderful happens.
It's an ordinary, every day event: the sun comes out from behind the clouds.
Suddenly I can no longer see the faces of those I'm ashing.
They are invisible, concealed by the pool of golden glory, the black ash crosses completely lost in the transfiguring brightness of this holy moment.
Again and again I reach forward into this enveloping blaze, declaring the truth of the moment even as I look ahead to offer sure and certain hope for the future.
"Let me know mine end".
This, this is what we can look forward to as we turn to Christ and follow in his steps on the way that leads to everlasting life.

"Rejoice oh dust and ashes,  the Lord shall be thy part."
That is the end, which opens us up to a new beginning, as during Lent even we are allowed to try on Easter hope. 

Salt and Light - a sermon for Proper 1, 9th February 2020 at Coventry Cathedral.

Welcome to Ordinary Time.

After the high celebrations of the past weeks we are back again in the green and growing season, with a focus on very ordinary things.

Salt and light.

No abstruse theological concepts but everyday things we encounter without thought....but for all that, also quite extraordinary, since in different ways they impact on everything around them.

 

Salt, of course, works in a way that is hidden. When you add it to a recipe, you don’t SEE the salt at work...and you can’t remove it again no matter how hard you try Used well it enhances other natural flavours, changing everything for the better.

Just think of salt and shake crisps!

 

When we describe someone as the salt of the earth, we’re saying something particular about them.

Yes, they are people of good principles, people of absolute integrity– but they may not always be that easy to spend time with precisely because they are people who don’t compromise…who carry on holding the line no matter what. Wholesome but unmissable.

Jesus is very clear about how he feels about those who don’t stay true to themselves – who become like salt that has lost its flavour, through exposure to damp so that it is no longer really salt at all. Roman roads were often coated with such unsalty salt, as a sealant to dry things out – trampled under foot daily as it is no use for flavouring any more.

So Jesus isn’t mincing his words. If we’re no use in flavouring things, we’re out…

If we adapt so completely to the secular word that there’s no way to distinguish us from our neighbours we’ve lost something essential.

We have a calling, you and I….a calling to make a difference by living in a different kind of way.

We should stand out from the crowd in ways that make others long to be like us. You can decide for yourselves whether the recent appearances of the Church of England in the media serve that purpose or not…Certainly we’ve made our presence known – but not, perhaps, in ways that make our secular neighbours long to join us. Salt in the wrong place can wreck a recipe.

 

Light, on the other hand, works quite differently. Nothing subtle about it.

You are the light of the world

If it is dark and you light a lamp – everything changes.

That’s the whole point of a lamp - to make a visible difference….(and of course, if you put a basket over a naked flame, you can expect a fire)

We need light in order to make sense of our surroundings, to stay safe, to do our work, to recognise our friends.

Again, Jesus is anything but obscure in his teaching – and is not preaching obscurity to his disciples either.

“You must be like a city on a hill, like a lamp in full view” - outstanding, unmissable.

Illuminating everything through our confidence in God’s love, and our obedience to his law in ever aspect of our lives.

 

In other words, we have a God-given responsibility to BE different and to MAKE a difference –

This week our city is dealing with the tragedy of another teenager lost to knife crime and gang violence. Babakar was 15. Let that sink in for a minute. FIFTEEN. Anyone who has ever been a teenager will remember that this is above all the age of poor choices and impulsive decisions. I’m pretty confident that I am not the only one in the building who did some fairly stupid things at that point, though mine were pretty low key, involving fashion sense, dreadful haircuts and the way I chose to spend Saturday nights – but I’ve been given the gift of time to redeem them, to make better choices, to direct my energies in ways that might add to the sum of human happiness, not its reverse.

And, what’s more, that gift of time is still current – for each and every one of us here. A gift to be used.

 

So – what are you going to do?

What are WE going to do?

How might you demonstrate the love of Christ, as Jesus weeps over our city, where some young people go in fear of their lives, knowing that to step into the wrong post-code is to risk real violence, even death…?

The calling to make a difference is not an optional extra, so what next?

You might make a difference as salt – quietly changing the flavour of your own neighbourhood step by step by step with random acts of kindness, befriending the stranger, defending the weak, advocating for the voiceless, welcoming the homeless stranger into your house

If that appeals, you might enjoy signing up to one of the generosity challenges, Love Life, Care for God’s Creation, or 40 Acts where you are set a different challenge for each day of Lent, to lead you on a journey to transform your small corner of the world.

I’m sure you’ll find ways to achieve that – and it WILL change the flavour of your community...bringing out the best in others just as salt brings out the true flavour of food.

 

 

Or you might prefer to commit to big, visible projects that light up the whole city.

We’ve certainly got a building that lends itself to that, here on Hill Top. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden...and nor can a cathedral. Indeed, the night that St Michael’s burned it truly shone for all to see, far and wide – and the work that stemmed from that night continues to shine, visible yet further afield, drawing others from across the world so that, like a mirror, we can reflect the light of God’s reconciling love.

But that doesn’t mean we can sit back here in the cathedral and rest on our historic laurels.

If we’re keen to make a difference together perhaps there are things we can do as a community right here and now.                                                                                            What about joining in Bishop Christopher’s initiative against youth violence? 

Or committing ourselves to better stewardship of the earth’s resources by aspiring to become an eco congregation, taking our part in handing on the planet more or less intact to the generations to come?

Or – you may well have other ideas – so do please share them, and start a revolution based on love...for the point is that even if we feel weary, inadequate or defeated by the scale of the world’s need, we are called to act.

That’s as much part of our faith as daily prayer and Sunday worship.

Indeed, it’s very much part of that worship – a way in which we affirm God’s rule over every aspect of our lives.

Indeed, if our worship ends as we walk out of the door then it’s sadly incomplete…

 

When we are sent “to love and serve the Lord” those are not just words.                                                                                                                                    We serve him in proportion to our service to those who are struggling.                                To be salt that gives flavour to lives devoid of joy. To be light that illuminates dark places where violence and fear seem to have the upper hand…We should go out alert to signs of God at work in our world, and eager to join in that work beside Him.

It’s far too easy to leave Sunday worship as salty as winter road grit, and as bright as a child’s torch left on overnight. You’ll know that each year in our NCD survey we have had outstanding scores for our inspiring worship...but the question is, what does that worship inspire us to do? If it just makes us feel content, refreshed by a morning of beautiful liturgy and great music, then I’m rather afraid we’re standing beside the Israelites to whom Isaiah spoke. They attended worship, practised fasting and felt pretty good about it. They hoped to win God’s favour , and were quite indignant when God did not seem to be impressed. God’s diagnosis of their condition is brutal in its clarity. Listen to how it reads in The Message “Because your worship and fasting are all about YOU says God...You’ve missed the point. .This is the kind of [worship] I’m after: to break the chains of injustice, get rid of exploitation in the workplace, free the oppressed, cancel debts. What I’m interested in seeing you do is: sharing your food with the hungry, inviting the homeless poor into your homes, putting clothes on the shivering ill-clad, being available to your own families. Do this and the lights will turn on, and your lives will turn around. Your righteousness will pave your way...If you get rid of unfair practices, quit blaming victims, quit gossiping about other people’s sins, if you are generous with the hungry and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out, your lives will begin to glow in the darkness, your shadowed lives be bathed in sunlight.”

That really is inspiring...Christianity is not a club where we gather but a movement of people going forward to change the world as we collaborate with God in making the Kingdom real – even here, even now. True worship extends beyond the doors of our cathedral into our city and beyond, and is realised through acts of generosity and faithfulness. You’ll see it wherever you look, if you keep your eyes open. You’ll see people pausing to chat to homeless strangers, affirming their dignity as children of God. You’ll see it when people of faith stand up and challenge injustice, when they set their personal or institutional safety aside for the sake of the downtrodden, the excluded, the victims. God is constantly at work – and invites us to join in...It might not win us friends, but then Jesus didn’t call us to be popular, didn’t promise us an easy ride, or invite us to stand under the radar. If you’re shining with the light of God’s truth, you can’t really hope that no-one will notice…

I’ve heard of one church where, above the door going out a large sign proclaims

“Worship has ended. Our service has begun”

I would love that to be our motto too. Lent is near, with a fresh opportunity to recalibrate our lives and recover our calling. Let’s step out together and let our light so shine before all that they may see our good works and glorify our heavenly Father.

 

We stand together, a sermon for Cathedralv Evensong approaching the 75th Anniversary of the Liberation of Auschwitz

Almost exactly a year ago, I was privileged to pray at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. Amid many profound experiences in an extraordinary pilgrimage, this one touched my heart in unexpected ways. You see, we’d spent all our time til then immersed in Christian heritage – but as kind Jewish women made space for me among the Friday night crowds so that I could whisper my own prayers, leave my own folded petition in a crack between the stones at the Western Wall I was newly conscious of my own affinity with those who worship there week on week. Why else do we read the Hebrew Scriptures, pray the psalms each day, if not to help us to remember our shared heritage? Jesus was, among so much else, a Jew...We "People of the Book" – Jews, Muslims, Christians, - are united by so much – but as we look towards Holocaust Memorial day, it is our shared humanity that matters above all.

Our Old Testament reading tells us that there is a time for every purpose under heaven...and in its sequence of paired opposites seems to lull us into a sense that all things are inevitable, that there is no more to celebrate in the good times than to mourn in the bad. The preacher presents human experience like a great pendulum held by God and swinging back and forth from one extreme to the other...each activity balanced by its opposite, each taking centre stage for a season, and the seasons themselves taking their place amid the ever-circling years.

BUT we know that some activities, some times are NOT inevitable, that they arise because of human choices. We know.that what happened under the Nazi regime to 6 million Jews and countless other victims of persecution, is in no way part of the natural rhythm of life. We cannot look at those events and then imagine that an equal and opposite reaction, an out pouring of colossal, sacrificial kindness, would somehow redress the balance. All we can do is lament the inhumanity which still holds sway and refuse to allow any group– any nation, race, faith, sexuality, - to be othered – set apart as somehow different, less important than ourselves, somehow less human.
                                                                 That’s the message of our Litany, of course, where the power of the missing word – not “Father forgive THEM” but simply “Father forgive” unites us all in our need of forgiveness. Whenever we pray it, we are invited to recognise our own potential to do good, to be people of good will, or the reverse, to change the world for better or worse in our lifetimes.
That’s our responsibility, one which we cannot lightly set down, for our action or inaction may shape the life of others in unforeseen and terrible ways.

The German pastor Martin Niemöller recognised this in the well known confession which might give us all pause
“
First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.]

When Jesus was asked to summarise the Law, he was very clear. Love God and love your neighbour...And, in case you’re in any doubt, your neighbour means anyone with whom you share this planet…
Love might not mean warm fuzzy feelings – but it does mean seeking the best for that neighbour, again and again and again, no matter their race, creed, colour, sexuality or politics. Our job is to love and care for one another. That's why we are here.

So at this season we stand together, remembering that we are all God’s children, and that our God has no favourites. The striking Echo Eternal exhibition in the north aisle includes young people's responses to the stories of holocaust survivors. They are sobering reading, and I'd encourage you to engage with them later.
One writer began “They took away my name and gave me a number. I no longer existed. I had no name”.
In that appalling season of mass-murder, humanity went missing along with the millions of lives that were lost in the death camps.
But each life mattered then and still matters today.
400 years before the Holocaust, John Donne wrote “Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind”. We don’t have a choice about that. We are all involved in mankind, all human. But we do have a choice to live into our humanity or to settle for something meaner, smaller, that focuses on our own well-being, or that of our family, no matter what the cost to others.

For centuries the Jewish people, strangers in the midst of countries across the world, bore the brunt of so much fear and hatred, which reached its climax in the unspeakable events of the Holocaust. Today that spectre of anti-semitism casts a shadow over some parts of society – but remember, we still have choices. There is a time for many purposes under heaven but there is never a right time to hate, to exclude, to persecute.
And remember, too, that we live our lives in the light of eternity…
”God has set eternity in the hearts of man” so that we might remember that we’re here for a season but will need to account to God for the way in which we’ve used his gift of time.

Let us ask for his help that our time may be a blessing – that we may be kind to one another, tender hearted…rejoicing in our shared humanity. 

Sermon for Epiphany 2A, 19th January 2020 at Coventry Cathedral

Why are you here?
No, I'm not indulging in a little existential angst on a Sunday morning.
I genuinely wonder why you are HERE.
I wonder, when you first came to church, what brought you through the doors.
Perhaps Sunday worship was part of family life from your earliest years, or perhaps you found yourself walking in almost by accident, one day in adult life.
Perhaps today is your first day.
If it is, do PLEASE come and chat to one of the clergy afterwards.
We’d love the chance to meet you and hear your story.
Whatever your original impetus, of course we’re delighted you hav got here.

I suspect though, that once you’d arrived you might not have kept on returning for long if you hadn’t had your own personal moment of epiphany, a glimpse of truth as everything fell into place, - however briefly – and you could say to  yourself
“Ah hah! Eureka! I’ve got it!”...or, as John the Baptist put it
“HERE is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world”.

John, of course, was on the look-out.
He was alert for signs of God’s kingdom from the word go, and quick to share when they were revealed  “I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God”
He’d known all along that he wasn’t the one for whom Israel was waiting and, though he did acquire his own disciples, he wasn’t intent on keeping them.
He understood his own role as a sign-post so when the moment came he didn’t hesitate
“Look, here is the lamb of God”

I’m hoping you have had a moment or two when suddenly everything made sense but if not don’t panic.The search really matters.
John’s two disciples had been looking for a while, following the Baptist, listening to his words, they were fired up by his proclamation
"Here is the Lamb of God !"
Imagine yourself hearing those words for the first time...not in the expected formality of Sunday liturgy but as breaking news.
He’s here.
Yes. HERE.

Wouldn’t you want to find out more?
So those disciples set off...lacking the confidence to approach Jesus directly, walking behind him in a face-saving game of follow-my-leader that turned lamb of God into shepherd…Sooner or later, he spotted them, turned, held their gaze.
They were stopped in their tracks as he asks
“What are you looking for?"
I imagine them shuffling, looking at each other, looking at the ground, embarrassed, til they come up with what could only be an interim answer, presented to fill an awkward silence
“Where are you staying?”

They DID  need to know where they could find him – of course they did – but the question he asked has many many answers
What WERE they looking for? What are you looking for? Are you hungy for healing? for justice? For change? for acceptance? for love?
Some of the many motivations that continue to drive humanity to seek something beyond ourselves.
We may not know which is uppermost at any given moment, but we know that we’re not at peace in the world….
This is the discomfort 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”
But to know that is to be at a different stage of the journey...and sometimes God seems intent on playing hide and seek with us, even as we set out determined to engage.

Where are you staying indeed, Lord?
There are many today who would say that Jesus cannot, must not, be staying in the Church. If you’ve been watching Panorama this week, you may be among those wondering how the institution can claim to be the Body of Christ when so much that is flawed, broken, even toxic, has been allowed to hide at the heart of the institution’s life.

And yet – and yet – Jesus has never kept the best of company. He is gloriously indiscriminate in his choice of friends, finding room in his heart for us all. Tax collectors and sinners, faint-hearted followers and penitent thieves and maybe even rogue bishops. While in the here and now we need a huge work of uncovering, of naming and accepting the harm we have done, and offering heartfelt contrition, I remain thankful that the final judgement does not rest with us, that by the grace of God eternity may offer a different perspective.
The celestial banquet is not, I think, going to be black tie and silver service but a glorious mess of love and laughter, tears and forgiveness, with Jesus always at the centre, the host with open arms.

But in the meantime, where ARE you staying, Lord?
Where can we find you today?

Jesus’ answer is a simple but wonderful invitation.
“Come and see!”
So – let’s go, let’s set out together and expect to find him round and about our city, remembering his bias to the poor, his fondness for the outcast…
Let's expect to discover him amid our brothers and sisters of other denominations as together we dare to dream of a Church united and made whole.
Perhaps he might even surprise us right here and right now, if we invite him to join us.

Some of you will have heard me share the experience of praying with this passage many years ago, on my very first retreat,
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 I had found what I was looking for, that 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.

Epiphany sermon for Coventry Cathedral, 5th January 2020

I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year 'Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.

Familiar words, I’m sure,- enshrined in our national consciousness after George VI used them in his Christmas broadcast in 1939, just a year before Provost Howard spoke into a world where the unknown had become real and very frightening…

Words that my high school headteacher loved to share in the 1^st assembly of the Lent term.

For the moment, let’s not rush ahead and remember how the verse continues but rather reflect on the journey that each new year represents. I suspect I’m not alone in feeling that things are more precarious, more challenging in our national life than they’ve been, pretty much in my lifetime. And though you may feel your own circumstances are pretty stable, there are bound to be some surprises ahead, both welcome and more problematic. The fifty two weeks that it takes our planet to complete its orbit around the sun offer time enough for all sorts of things to happen.

So that plea “Give me a light” is real, and immediate, specially if you know there are decisions to make this year.

I’m not great at that. I often wish that God would decide for me, say, only half jokingly, that I long for a sign, “some sky writing would be good, Lord, telling me exactly where I should go and what I should be doing.”

Give me a light.

Of course, Matthew’s wise men seem to have had exactly that privilege, light and to spare for their journey.

An Epiphany.

A moment of clarity when God is revealed, when we can say with no doubt that God is here

So- for the wise men, perhaps their epiphany came with the rising of the star…their very own sky-writing, telling them where to go, what to seek.

“Arise, shine for your light is come”

Certainly, they seem to start out on their journey confident that they know where they are heading…all they have to do is to follow their star. Though I'd guess that the Christmas card scenes that present it as obviously the one and only REAL star in the heavens might be distorting the truth slightly…Step outside on a clear night and the sky tells a different story, even here in Coventry.

Look up.

See for yourself.

Of course, looking up might be quite a challenge if you’re feeling overwhelmed personally or politically as the year begins. Looking down and feeling sad may seem more natural – but you’ll miss so much if you stay that way.

Look up and yes, the sky will be dark but in the darkness are countless stars...stars that are always there, of course, but only visible when night falls.

So, our wise travellers looked up -and saw something that others missed.

More, they chose to focus on that light, rather than the surrounding darkness and so they set the tone for their journey.

To focus on light rather than darkness is always, in every circumstance, an act of faith.

It’s not blind optimism but hope rooted in experience.

But – that doesnt guarantee plain sailing.

This journey of faith was not, is not, for the fainthearted. The wise men needed took courage and conviction to stay the distance and wisdom to discern when the journey was really over. It seemed only common sense that the royal palace should be their first port of call...A star presaging the birth of a king must surely point to a kingly place – except that this new king confounds expectations at every turn. Our travellers have drifted off course, followed their own assumptions and so come face to face with someone for whom the gospel is anything but good news. Herod responds with the anger born of frightened self interest when the wise men ask to see the one born “King of the Jews”.

You might remember that the next time Jesus is hailed as “King of the Jews” is as he confronts worldly authority once again, in the events leading up to the crucifixion, and the shedding of innocent blood. It’s the same here, of course. God's arrival in our world is quite unlike the sweet and gentle scenes of our Christmas cards and carols. It ushers in mass murder and a young family forced to flee for their lives. But for all the violence and fear,nothing in all creation will be able to escape the touch of God's mighty act of salvation. Not Herod, not Rome. Nothing.

Meanwhile, though, our travellers have still not had their real epiphany. They have seen a king but not THE king. Perhaps they'd made a mistake in setting out? Wasted time, energy…

“The voices ringing in their ears that this was all folly”

Should they admit defeat? Head for home?

But they were determined to go the distance and followed the directions provided, directions that sent them away from the seat of power, from splendid palaces to an obscure village – yet still not least among the princes of Judah, perhaps.

As the wise men left Herod’s presence, they saw the star ahead of them once again.

“Your light has come...”

Yet this was still not their true epiphany. The star-light led them on to a very ordinary house – where all their expectations were subverted.

Your light has come

God a toddler, cuddled up in his mother’s arms…

Emmanuel. God with us.

It might have seemed an anticlimax.

No angel choirs or fiery messengers, no earthquakes or thundering voice but an everyday scene repeated in countless homes across the world.

Already, in this epiphany, if they were truly wise, our travellers could discern the signs of the times, could recognise the nature of the kingdom. It was, and it is, a kingdom that included the little and the least, the poor and the weak. A kingdom that welcomes those who were searching, those who have wandered in the wrong direction for a little while. A kingdom for insiders and people from beyond the edges of society, Jews and Gentiles, those already at home and sojournors in a strange land

The magi had come far to worship a new king, yet found themselves somehow at home and welcome in his kingdom.

The Franciscan writer Richard Rohr says this

An epiphany is an experience that transforms everything, and before you can do anything with it, it does something to you... it always seems to demand a change in people‘s lives. To live with a faith that makes room for Epiphany leaves us on our heels, ready to step out to wherever it is that God may be revealed

The paradox, of course, is that we may not have to travel far at all.

We don’t really need to go looking for God in rare and particular places. Instead, in the child born in Bethlehem, God has sought us out and come to dwell with us in the midst of all of our humanity.

Emmanuel.

God with us as we begin our journey into the year ahead.

Your light has come

We can seek that light in other places that carry the promise of epiphany - in the company of those who are hungry and thirsty, the sick and the imprisoned, the lonely and those stripped of their dignity; - among people who turn from the destructive powers in their life and in this world, to discover new strength from God; among those called to leave the familiar behind and step out in new directions; - wherever people experiences healing and new life or moments of forgiveness and new love.

Truth is, as Richard Rohr continues “if God can be manifest in a baby [born] in a poor stable for the unwanted, then we better be ready for God just about anywhere and in anybody.”

“Anywhere and in anybody”…..

Arise, shine, for your light has come.

The arrival of the Light of the World in our midst enables us to shine with reflected glory. As the moon has no light of its own, but reflects so beautifully the flaming radiance of the sun, so we, in all our mundane humanity, can and should shine…

The light that drew the magi to the house in Bethlehem, that showed them God in the ordinary, should shine through us as well and we should expect to see it in other places and other people too.…

That’s why I’m an enthusiast for the old European tradition of chalking the doors – a visual prayer on the lintel that Christ will bless the home with his presence – a reminder to me and a sign to others that I WANT mine to be the sort of home where his presence can be felt, his love shared. I’ve a pocket full of chalk if you want to mark your home too…to remember as you come and go that the Lord is here. There really is no need to travel far to seek him.

So, as you go forward into this new year, be alert to celebrate epiphany wherever you encounter God. It won't be just in this building, that's for sure...nor simply at the the high moments of life In all times and places and people, even the most pedestrian and apparently uninspiring...because, after all, what good is it if we only see God on high days an holidays…

Most of life is quite difficult, even dull...it can seem dreary, dark – but remember – the magi looked UP and saw the beauty of the night sky...revealed only because of the darkness.

So, even in our own lives, and even in our own times of gathering gloom, we may come to experience the glory of God through Jesus Christ

Your light has come – so, as Minnie Haskins wrote long ago

“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

For Midnight Mass at Alderminster 2019

I wonder which you prefer – travelling or arriving? Hope or fulfillment?Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?

I’m very much a Christmas Eve person. I love this blend of candles and stars, of gentle music sounding across the years, connecting me with the long-gone celebrations of my childhood (when, it seemed to me, Christmas really only began on Christmas Eve so that all that fervour of expectant longing was crammed into one day, and one holy night)..The thrill of being old enough to stay up for Midnight Mass...Of going out into the darkness knowing it was finally Christmas Day

Alright. That suggests that maybe I just love both.

I’m a Christmas junkie – and there is nowhere I’d rather be tonight than right here at this moment.

But I wonder if there’s anything to learn from how we feel about those two states of being.

IS travelling hopefully always better than arriving?

I’m sure it didn’t feel that way for Mary, on that dark night in a crowded city.

She will have longed to arrive – and for her baby to arrive too.

And I wonder, too, how it felt to God then.

The moment of Christ’s birth, the climax of history... the fulfillment of the plan which St John unfolds for us

In the beginning was the Word

God waiting for the right moment to become flesh and step into human history to transform it by his presence forever.

It was a messy place to be, that world God loved.

It still is.

A place of violence, poverty and oppression.

A place where cold rejection is part of the deal, both for exiles in an unfriendly world and still, each day, for God’s Son

“He came to his own and his own people would not receive him”

A hostile landscape

A place where despite all our best intentions, we won’t manage the “perfect” Christmas…

I’m struck by how many clergy are battling with huge issues in the lives of their families, or facing serious illness in this week of all weeks when they were planning to share in joyous Christmas worship...and I know too many families where an empty chair at the Christmas table will leave this season overshadowed by grief.

Perfection just doesn’t happen because we live in a real world that is light years away from that offered by the media – or even by our Christmas carols.

“Away in a manger” we sing – and in four words consign the Christ-child to a place of stained-glass unreality, safely at arms’ length from our own everyday experience. This baby is not even allowed to cry! Nothing must spoil the photo-shopped illusion of the moment.

Small wonder, if that’s what we offer, that people struggle to make a connection between that baby and their own mundane, often messy, lives.

Truthfully, if all we have to offer as a faith is those moments, it is unsurprising that many people feel they can do quite nicely without it, thank you.

So, let me direct you to another carol (one we’ve sung tonight?) which sees things a bit differently.

“Oh holy child of Bethlehem, descend on us we pray

Cast out our sin and enter in BE BORN IN US TODAY”

In the first century of the church, a theologian named Irenaeas put the same message very well

“He became what we are, to make us what he is”

God became one of us, the Word made flesh in our broken grieving word, so that we can see what God’s life of perfect love is like, and seeing it, join in.

HERE is the destination to which tonight’s hopeful travelling must bring us . Here and nowhere else..

“We have seen his glory” - and, glimpsing that, are transformed into a new humanity.

“children born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.”

Imagine that made good in our lives.

The light of God’s love shining in even the saddest, darkest places.

Imagine Jesus born in us, and living among us daily.

Imagine a community transformed...and little by little, reaching out to change the world.

In a few minutes he will come to us in the Sacrament of bread and wine,- a gift that is part of the process of transformation as we pray

“O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel”

May the light of his presence shine in and through us, this Christmas and always.

Advent 4 A at Coventry Cathedral, 22nd December 2019

Are you a rule-keeper or a rule breaker?

I find myself irritatingly set on being a rule keeper on the whole. I will walk dutifully around 3 sides of a lawn if there’s a “keep off” notice, and get dreadfully anxious if I think that I might have accidentally infringed a rule I somehow didn’t know about…

I really don’t want to be a nuisance in any way, stepping over the line is a definite “No”, so – it’s just as well that I wasn’t involved in those early weeks of Mary’s pregnancy. I would probably have wanted to hide because, you see, anyone could tell things weren’t as they should be.

Matthew starts the story in such a calm, matter-of-fact way

“Now the birth of Jesus took place in this way...” Engagement preceding marriage. Utterly respectable until – WHAM -

“Mary was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit”

WHAT?

Let me read that again.

It sounds so undramatic, even ordinary – and because we’ve probably heard these words a thousand times, they may not have much impact.

But for Joseph – they rocked his world.

How on earth could he, how could anyone muster up enough faith to trust Mary’s outrageous claim?

A child from the Holy Spirit?

It beggars belief.

And it’s definitely not the right way to do things, is it…Not in accordance with the laws of Israel, which would have Mary AND her lover stoned to death without further ado.

Joseph is righteous. He wants to do things properly – but with compassion too.

Clearly, his hopes and dreams for the future are in tatters, but he isn’t one to be vindictive.

You can imagine the turmoil.

It’s scarcely surprising that he has difficulty sleeping, or that his sleep is troubled by extraordinary dreams.

Dreams that rekindle hope – if only he can have faith and courage.

This beginning of the Jesus story is not being played by the rules…

it’s an almighty mess, frankly (and of course, we know that worse is to come)

What should Joseph do?

He doesn’t have to be a part of this mess. He could save himself a lot of trouble by steering well clear – but somehow, faith triumphs, giving him strength to accept the scandal, the gossip, the risk that he too will be seen as a troublemaker, refusing to play by the rules.

Actually, he may be engaging deeply with the rules, the truth, of how things actually ARE, rather than the perfect pictures of how they ought to be.

Yes, there is mess...There is disappointment...but that’s the world into which God will soon be born to an unwed teenage mother.

Born into scandal and shame.

Born into risk and fear.

Just the way that God has always planned it.

“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son and they shall name him Emmanuel. God with us”

Too often we seek to deny the messiness of our very human lives.

The shiny Christmas decorations, the myriad lights that seek to drive back or distract us from the darkness of poverty and distress here in our city and beyond can be part of that denial, like all those ads encouraging a perfect family Christmas, a world away from tetchy, exhausted parents, and over-excited children greedy for the next present.

But, you know, Immanuel, God with us, is there in the reality.

In the frantic preparations that never quite seem to be enough

In the anxiety over family gatherings where not all the family is really that thrilled to find themselves together.

In the disappointment and the loneliness of those who had never imagined it would turn out like this.

God with us -

I’m going to date myself now by admitting a fondness for the 90s track by Joan Osborne, “What if God was one of us”.

In case you don’t know it, let me share the chorus

“What if God was one of us. Just a slob like one of us. Just a stranger on a bus trying to make his way home.”

I have never dared to investiigate whether the song was written in faith or in irony – and if you know, please don’t tell me.

Because, of course, this is the heart of everything.

God IS one of us...whatever that might look like.

Immanuel.

God with us in the endless business of the Cathedral at this time of year..in the hard-won beauty of the choir singing away the dark on Advent Sunday...in the weary scraping of candlewax from the floor...in the stickiness of a thousand Christingle oranges…and the starling-chatter of school-children filling the nave for their end of term celebration.

God with us in the patient preparations and proof reading for service after service after service...

God with us no less in the barely suppressed grumpiness of overtired staff and of volunteers who’ve agreed to do just one more event, because “we know you’re stretched at this season”

God with you, Paul and Sheila, in what must surely be an emotional roller-coaster as you prepare to bring so many years of loving service here to an end.

God with you in the next adventure as surely as God has been with you shining through all that you have brought to the life of this place.

God with us in our hopes and our fears, for ourselves and for our country.

God who has NEVER played by our rules, but turns them upside down in every way….living his manifesto, Mary’s Magnificat..

God the rule-breaker stepping down from the throne of glory that we would surely cling to...setting aside everything but love to be with us in our triumphs and disasters, our moments of faith and our days of doubt…

When Joseph broke the rules and joined Mary on the side of God’s wild subversion, he can’t have known what the future might hold.

I wonder how often he comforted his wife, comforted himself, by repeating Isaiah’s words

“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a Son and they shall name him Immanuel”...how often he fell asleep, using that name as a prayer as he tumbled into darkness

“Immanuel”...God with us…

Here, now and always.