"Father against son and son against father" - words for Trinity 12C at St Matthew's

51Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! 52From now on, five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; 53they will be divided:
father against son
   and son against father,
mother against daughter
   and daughter against mother,
mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law
   and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.’

That may sound rather too close to the current state of the Church of England – divided over women bishops, gay priests, fracking and a whole let else besides – and if it does, it probably does not fill you with hope or joy.

We tend to think that to be set against something is always bad – that harmony and unity are goods to be pursued at all cost.

But sometimes, you know, it's worth taking a stand AGAINST something

In India I spent a lot of time singing the sort of Sunday school songs that my own mother learned in childhood – songs that are, for the most part, considered far too old fashioned for the sophisticated children of 21^st century Gloucestershire...One such was “Dare to be a Daniel – dare to stand alone”

and perhaps that's closer to the spirit of today's gospel than the infighting of the institutional church.

Sometimes there are things worth standing up for – whatever the apparent cost.

Let me tell you a story – not from this visit to India, but from my previous adventure there 7 years ago.

I'd spent some time wrestling with the legacy of the British Raj.

Was it something to applaud or mourn?

To be honest, I'm still not sure.

Disturbingly, to be white still seems a passport to instant respect.

A blessing from English hands is valued more than an Indian one, and to the young Indian to be westernised is to be to sophisticated and successful.

That’s a real issue –for westernisation brings as many problems as blessings.

However, nothing is ever quite straightforward in India. Just as soon as you think you've got a handle on something, fresh light shows new perspectives – and I'm still not sure whether the work of the British in India is something to cherish or to lament.

Some of my Indian friends, though, are quite clear about it.

People like Andrew a Sunday school worker with Church of South India.

Like 70% of Indian Christians, Andrew's family is dalit, - the untouchable caste that is still seen in some areas as barely human, the lowest of the low,valued so much less than those beasts that Hindus revere as gods.

But his grandfather converted to Christianity, following what amounted to a miracle – a miracle that both gave him a great deal and cost him a great deal too.

Grandpa was employed by a British tea planter, a Christian who held daily prayers for his household...but grandfather, a devout Hindu, was not convinced.

He liked his employer, valued the kindness that was offered to all the staff, but remained steadfast to the faith of his own ancestors. Then one day he had an accident at work, breaking his hip...hospital treatment was some days journey away, and by the time he arrived gangrene had set in and amputation seemed inevitable. Surgery was planned for the following day, and he lay in great pain and utter desolation. How could he hope to support his family as a cripple? What could he do in in the face of such ruin? Where could he turn.

As he lay there on his hard hospital bed he noticed a picture of Jesus, which the face familiar from pictures in his employer's home...

In some desperation prayed

"I am in too much pain. If you are indeed a god, act."

That night his pain did not keep him awake, and instead he slept deeply and dreamed vividly of two men in white who came to him and assured him that Jesus had indeed healed his leg. In the morning, astounded doctors found that the gangrene had gone, the broken bone was whole and, not surprisingly, grandfather converted to Christianity on the spot.

Wonderful, life changing stuff – but carrying within it the seeds of another change – the sort that sets father against son and mother in law against daughter in law.

His grandfather's conversion meant that he was rejected by his own community, driven from the family home, threatened with violence, subjected to scorn and vitriol.

Even today, when Andrew returns home to his village, he is ostracised, out cast.

But, he says, it is worth it.

For Andrew, Christianity represents an open door, an escape route from the confines of the eternal cycle of karma to freedom and dignity as a child of God.

There are, you see, some things that are more important even than family unity.

You may never find yourself having to stand against those whom you love for the sake of your faith – but today's gospel reminds us that following Christ should never be an easy option. To be honest, if it has never yet cost you anything, you might need to ask yourself whether you're actually living as one of his disciples – or just coming along to a pleasant religious social club.

Think about that.

About what it is in your faith that might inspire you to hold fast no matter what...for Jesus emphatically does not promise an easy ride.

He does, though, promise life everlasting.

In no particular order -reflections on my 2nd visit to India. 1) Multi faith society

I was intrigued when I got home from Bangalore on Wednesday to see that the media was busy reporting Rowan Williams' recent interview in which he suggested that UK Christians claiming persecution should reflect on the true persecution that their brothers and sisters in other lands experience and, not to put too fine a point on it, "grow up".

I'd very much agree with the former ABC...there is a wealth of difference between being asked not to wear a cross at work and facing actual physical violence, and I've come home impressed by the way that different faiths seem to co-exist quite peacefully, even respectfully, in Karnataka.

In India, Christianity is very much a minority faith - owned by just 2% of the population - and of course in some parts of the country it IS under threat. Just google "attacks on Christians in Bihar" to read about the sort of persecution that the early martyrs might have encountered. However, in the diocese of Karnataka Central, and particularly in that great melting pot that is the city of Bangalore, things seem very different. 

We were there during Ramadan, at a time when you might have expected tensions to escalate. After all, nobody is at their best when trying to function on an empty stomach - but we encountered neither sight nor sound of religious tension. Instead, wherever we went we heard stories of co-operation between neighbours that reminded me of the idealised community we imagine was the English village of yesteryear.

Out at Kannapura, Revd Shilpa told how her Hindu neighbours were great supporters of the tiny church that meets in her home, how they always attended harvest and Christmas celebrations and would work alongside her congregation to raise funds for the new church building that will soon become a reality.

In Bangalore, almost every school we visited welcomed children of all faiths, many had special arrangements in place for Ramadan but not one of them compromised their Christian identity even for a second. Thus it was that at the CSI Zenana Mission School one morning we found ourselves singing Sunday school choruses my mother learned at the feet of CIM missionaries in Chefoo before WW2 with a congregation of 100% Muslim children - in the shadow of a Hindu Temple arch. 

The whole multi faith situation in microcosm.

I asked repeatedly if there were any problems, any tensions - and was assured that no, the Church was respected and appreciated. When I pushed a senior cleric as to why this should be so he summed it up very neatly

"For you in the west, the cross is seen as a sign of victory. Here in India it is a sign of service. Our neighbours respect us because they know that we will work tirelessly for the well-being of the community. If we do that because of our faith, then our faith is worth reverence..."

Perhaps that's the issue which should concern those Christians who feel that that they are being oppressed in 21st century Britain. Have we done anything to EARN the respect and love of our neighbours - or do we, by treating them with suspicion and alarm, pave the way ourselves for misunderstanding and division? 

Perhaps we should focus rather more on love in action and less on imagined slights.Who knows, perhaps if we visibly loved our neighbours, they might feel more inclined to love us!

New York Living in Bangalore

...That was the proud announcement of an advertising hoarding as we arrived, bedraggled and exhausted, just a week ago. No amount of inflight entertainment can make the journey from Heathrow to Mumbai a delight - but we survived, landed and found ourselves instantly confronted with the contrasts that are always part of modern India. As we walked to the baggage claim down a clean, modern walkway - polished floor tiles and gleaming chrome in all directions, I spotted an open door - into the parallel service corridor, just behind that shining tiled wall...Bare concrete on the floor, peeling plaster - and yes - that was surely a cockroach skuttling to safety!
Those same contrasts were obvious as we drove to the other terminal...On one side were the trappings of any international airport..., the plate glass office blocks, the advertisements inviting us to fly anywhere without more ado. But on the other side of the perimeter fence were the blue polythene walls and ramshackle structures of the slums...the irony completed by the presence of satellite dishes on some of those buildings that looked unlikely to survive the next downpour.

Landing in Bangalore, I thought for some anxious moments that the the restless buzzing city I had loved had a new personality. The road from the brand new terminal was undamaged, free from traffic...but once we were through the gates India reasserted itself in all its energetic chaos and complexity. Yes, perhaps more motorbike drivers wore helmets than before - but they still carried any number of passengers riding a precarious unprotected pillion. Yes, we passed a huge car showroom filled with the ultimate status symbol, row on row of gleaming Mercedes...but outside cows rootled in the garbage. A Hindu temple seemed to have a sideline in supplying idols elsewhere - for there was an adjoining yard filled with giant figures of gods and goddesses, shrouded in polythene for safe transit - who knows where?

It seems that "New York Living in Bangalore" is the ultimate aspiration...but for all the gloss provided by the booming IT industry, for all the city's dramatic growth (200 new families arrive within the perimeter every day of the year)...this is still my India...the place that makes me smile with its warmth and thrills me with its energy...that blend of ancient and modern...of delightfully dated signs (Rashly driven? Call 875342 - so ironic, because to drive here at ALL is surely the height of rashness!)...and endless optimism (a tiny corner estate agents named Mighty Properties. In this city of endless contrasts it seems that anything could happen...that the world crowds the streets...and every piece of graffiti shouts at the top of its voice
"Alert, alert, ALERT! Robberies here....Beware of cycle lifters! Use the stands provided. You are FORBIDDEN to urinate here. No nuisancing, by order"
This city teems with energy - even the slum dogs roaming the streets might, with the help of good karma, make it one day to the top.

Return Passage to India

7 years ago I was privileged to spend time working alongside some of the clergy in our link diocese of Karnataka Central in the Church of South India. I went in fear and trembling, for it seemed a huge and brave thing for me to leave my family and fly across the world - specially as they were then very much of the age that I'd been when my own parents died.
Going to Bangalore on that occasion was very much a rite of passage...enabling me to grasp that my children were and are now independent young adults who can manage for weeks on end without sight or sound of me. It helped me to grow up as a parent - and in other ways too, as I fell in love with India, - sights, sound, smells but above all people, and learned more than I'd have deemed possible about the strength of the human spirit and the ways in which God is at work amid wretched poverty and blighted futures.

When I came home, I knew I'd left a bit of my heart behind - and for a good couple of years would find myself abruptly missing India, and struggling with the knowledge that I was unlikely to return there. You see, it was a privilege enough to be allowed to spend time there at all - and call it work! - and I knew that particular route would not be open again. But I couldn't bear the thought of returning as a tourist where once I'd belonged as a friend - so it seemed that I was doomed to remain homesick for somewhere I'd only belonged for a few short weeks. Then, last autumn, came the invitation to visit again - this time as one of the leaders of the South India Youth Trip - taking a small group of teenagers from across Gloucestershire to visit many of the same projects and schools I'd visited before....and so I'm off tomorrow, with a joy in my heart in marked contrast to the alarm that I felt before.

It will be quite different visiting with the young people...and I'm looking forward to seeing India through their eyes too. I'll write here if I can - but in the meantime here are some reflections from last time round, - back in the days when this blog was a regular piece of reflective writing that I might have been proud of.


It's me, Kathryn! In India!

A Question of Priorities

Travelling hopefully - remembering gratefully

What the papers say

The Prince and the Pauper

Girl Child Sunday

Flying Pastors

Still thinking

Of missionaries and their ways

Surprise!

Yesterday was one of those days when it is extremely evident that, warts and all, this is still GOD'S Church - something I forget far too easily in the comings and goings of life at the vicarage.
8.00 is a service for those who want peace, quiet & (on a bad day) minimal challenge...which means that the service itself is often a challenge for me, even without the added joys of an earlier start for one who has never been a lark...
I tend to approach it with minimal expectations. The congregation is small and reserved, a response to the sermon is pretty much unheard of, and while I know that they value this space with God on a Sunday morning, the service rarely makes my heart sing.

Yesterday, though, was quite different.
I'd begun the service by suggesting that as our intention of the day we pray for the Church's ministry of hospitality in all its many forms, and mentioned the hostels for street-children I will be visiting in Bangalore as an example of Christian hospitality literally saving lives. I'd reminded the congregation of the wonderful words of John Chrysostom
"If you cannot find Christ in the beggar the door, you won't find him in the chalice."
Then we went on with the service as usual...the familiar pattern of words almost, but not quite, washing over me...Time for the homily - where the theme of welcoming the stranger was loud and clear.
And then, the church door opened.
And 2 unfamiliar figures made the laborious journey up the aisle to where our small group clustered in the choir stalls for this early celebration.
Christy & his wife.
Sri Lankan Christians visiting their daughter in Stroud and anxious to find a church home for their stay.
Maybe not quite angels unawares - but strangers for us to welcome into friendship, reminders that the Church is always bigger than we think - and maybe a sign that even when I think that NOBODY is listening to my words, God is nonetheless involved in the process.
To see the reserved regulars, who normally depart at top speed, coming over to shake hands and say "Welcome" after the final blessing made me giggle with delight...

The wonders weren't over, either.
At "Together at Ten" we had decided to mark the end of the school year by inviting our Messy Church families to worship with the 10.00, and explore the Experience Eucharist stations we piloted in school back in February.
Clare the curate had done a brilliant job of adapting them so that our less mobile regulars could still be involved - and in the event, though few Messy Church friends came, there were enough children and more than enough engaged adults to make the whole thing a success. 
I explained what we were about before the service started - and was thrilled when a positive stream of people encroached on the font, intent on floating their own prayer flower, its petals folded in on those things which need forgiveness - but opening out in the water as a symbol of sins forgiven.

They coped, too, with scattering confetti over maps of the parish and of the world, as we bathed them in prayer...with thinking about the different kinds of remembering "Your keys....Clare's birthday...When I was a child....." as a prelude to remembering all that Jesus did in the Eucharistic Prayer...and they positively thrived on the thought of taking away a small heart as a reminder of God's love and blessing to carry with them through the week.

Then the nucleus of the Messy Church family shared a picnic together. It wasn't the all-singing, all-dancing family fun day we might have envisaged when we first mooted the idea - but there was food in generous profusion, some lovely care of little ones by much bigger boys, and time to chat and nurture the friendships at the heart of our Messy Church.

I love St Matthew's dearly - but sometimes undersell them to myself - so it was wonderful to see the generosity and openness that shone through yesterday. I am blessed to serve this community.

Rescued by a hoodie - the Good Samaritan for Trinity 7C

It's all about rescue today, isn't it?

One of the most familiar of all parables – so very familiar that I'd guess that at least some of us zoned out as I began to read the Gospel.

We know the story of the Good Samaritan so very well...with its message of a wider love, a more inclusive compassion, the kindness of stranger...and because of the way the story is framed – in response to the ultimate BIG question

“What should I do to inherit eternal life?” - we tend to cast ourselves as the Samaritan.

Clearly that unexpected hero is to be our role model. We are to set aside all other duties and concerns in favour of constant readiness to respond to others in distress, whatever their circumstance – and whatever cost to us. Well and good. That's the message that I hope and expect the children of St Matthew's school to take away whenever the parable comes up in assembly – and it's a good one too.

The best – in terms of getting through life with as much love as possible.

But – the Samaritan is not the only character in the story.

There are the other by-passers – the ones who are too busy, preoccupied or fearful to stop. We often hear reasons why it was beyond them – the priest, for example, was anxious to avoid defilement, for it wasn't clear whether the solitary traveller lived or died...

And the Jericho road was a hostile place – lonely, best avoided...to linger there would be rash.

Preaching on the parable once, Martin Luther King imagined those bypassers saying to themselves

“If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me.......”

A natural question.

A human question.

We are all programmed to a degree of self preservation, after all.

But – this is the story of a rescue – and as King goes on to say

““But then the Good Samaritan came by, and he reversed the question: ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?’”

For the Samaritan, his own needs, his own agenda came second to the task of saving someone in dire need.

Remember I said that our readings today were all about rescue, dare I say salvation?

In our epistle Paul writes of God's mission, enacted by Jesus

“He has rescued us from the Kingdom of darkness.....”

So, on these terms, you and I are that benighted traveller.

WE are the ones in need of salvation...lying by the roadside, powerless to help ourselves.

That's where we are, isn't it....really?

We set out on our journey through life with high hopes and great expectations – but we find along the way that we are not only not as invincible and immortal as our younger selves believed – we're also more faltering frail and fallible than we would ever have imagined.

We go on and on disappointing ourselves – as Paul puts it, writing to the Romans

“ For I don't do the good I want to do, but instead do the evil that I don't want to do.”

And what's more – this is a recurring pattern.

We can't somehow make the transition to “good enough”... - We need rescuing.

Enter Jesus....reaching out to those who might seem to be excluded – Samaritans are automatically aliens – and unfriendly aliens at that...There was a story circulating in 1^st Century Palestine about a rabbi who was so holy that he was even prepared to help a Samaritan..

But now we go one step forward.

The Samaritan, the outsider, is the one who is willing to help those who've been so knocked about by life that they can no longer keep going....those who don't even have enough about them to pay for a room for the night.

He reaches out to them – to us – picks us up, sees us to safety and bears the cost of that himself.

We are rescued by someone who is Not One of Us – someone infinitely greater, who will go to any lengths, put Himself at any risk, for our sake.

Grace in action – here as wherever he intervenes in our lives.

But – goodness, our world makes it hard for him sometimes.

We hedge ourselves and other people around with artificial barriers, designed, it seems, to curb any outpouring of his outrageous, excessive love.

Perhaps we're scared.

Perhaps we just don't recognise our need of rescue – or are unwilling to accept that it comes in through the unlikely person of an itinerant preacher with a following of undesirables

We can't be rescued on our own terms – who knows how the traveller felt about Samaritans before that fateful day?...

It's only when we are able to admit our helplessness and let go of all our hard won protective strategies that we can share in the rescue plan God offers to all his people.

So – finally – a story. A familiar story – THIS story – as retold by a colleague of mine, Sallie Basham, and published on the "Preaching the RCL" lists this week. 

As you listen, consider where you recognise yourself today

Once upon a time, a certain man went to visit his mother in Gloucester hospital.

She was critically ill, so although it was late on a Saturday night, he went without delay, catching the last bus, which left him with a short walk from the bus station.....

He took with him presents for his mother and money so she could use the hospital telephone.  As he journeyed through the city centre some youths, who'd just been chucked out of a nightclub set upon him and beat him up and robbed him of all the presents for his mother and all his money and left him by the side of the road.

Along came a Christian minister, a Jewish rabbi, a Muslim imam, a Hindu priest, … ; but they all hurried past because they were going to a religious conference about how to resolve differences and live in harmony in a multi-cultural society. Next came a mini-bus with a social-worker and a doctor and a health worker and a counsellor: they stopped to look at the man groaning at the road-side, made some notes for a case study and drove on.

Finally, a hoodie wandered past. He did a double-take when he saw the man at the side of the road. He went to see if he could help; but he didn’t have any transport and one dirty handkerchief was not much use in dealing with the man’s wounds. So he ran along to the nearest all night chemist, explained what had happened and asked for some bandages and the use of a ‘phone to call an ambulance. The pharmacist was very polite; but he couldn’t let the hoodie use the ‘phone – it’s more than my jobs worth! The hoodie wondered if he was joking as he’d only ever heard the word “jobsworth” used sarcastically. It seemed that the pharmacist was serious and the hoodie knew that if he tried to have a serious discussion with people, he was usually misunderstood and always got into trouble.
The chemist went on to say that if the hoodie didn’t have any money, he didn’t see how he could let him have any bandages. Particularly if the hoodie didn’t have a First Aid Certificate to prove he knew how to use them. After all, it’s no longer permitted to give someone a painkiller, or to touch them – which means no bandages or antiseptics. These things can be regarded as assault. The hoodie wondered about the meaning of assault in this situation; but was unable to persuade the chemist. Although, if he came back with money, the chemist would sell him bandages, provided he didn’t mention he was going to use them on someone else.

All this took some time.

By now it was early on Sunday morning...and there were a couple of churches nearby.

The hoodie knew that churches were supposed to help people. So he went to the first church; but they were busy preparing for a Family Fun Day.They told the hoodie there would be games, a bouncy castle and a time of worship. The hoodie wasn't on speaking terms with his family, - he'd left home some time ago - so he just asked again if he could have some bandages out of the First Aid box. But the people knew the regulations about not handing out painkillers or bandages or touching anyone to clean up their wounds and said they couldn’t help him.
So the hoodie went to the second church, where they were setting up for the 8.00 service.

“Come back later and the vicar might help you. I think she has a fund for desperate cases”.

Back on the street, the hoodie found someone selling The Big Issue and he gave him money to ‘phone for an ambulance and to buy bandages.  So the hoodie rushed back to the chemist and bought some bandages and some antiseptic cream.  Then he ran back to the man who had been beaten up. He had stopped groaning; but when the hoodie asked how he was there was no answer. For the man who had been beaten up had now died. So the hoodie sat down beside him at the roadside and put his head in his hands and wept. He thought of how he would have been neighbour to the man who had been mugged; but there was no-one willing to be neighbour with him. He put his head in his hands and wept.
He put his head in his nail-scarred hands and wept.

Trinity 6C Proper 9 The Kingdom of God has come near to you - a homily for Uplands

In a fortnight's time, if the Indian Embassy sees fit to grant me a visa, I should be flying off to Bangalore as one of the leaders of this year's diocesan youth trip to our partners in the Church of South India.

This is very exciting for all sorts of reasons – and just 2 weeks ago the whole group of teenagers & leaders met together for a final briefing.

It was then that we were given The Kit List.

It's several pages long and VERY detailed.

We've been told not only what injections we need and what to wear, and what medicines to take but also which electrical items may prove too much for the Bangalore grid and a host of other things beside. There's a definite feeling abroad that we need to be prepared for all eventualities – and as I'll be responsible for 8 other people's daughters, I'm quite glad of that.

However, when I was 1^st in India 6 years ago, I couldn't help but contrast the meticulous planning of our trip with the lot of the earlier missionaries who set out with no clear idea of where they were heading...no language courses...no immunisations...with very little but their love of God and a determination to share the gospel with brothers and sisters whose lives were immeasurably different from their own.

They might, I imagine, have taken some quinine with them in their medicine chests– but not alot besides...and they died, by the dozen, and are buried far from home in a land that perhaps they could never fully understand.

And before them, of course, was St Thomas.

The mists of time hide all the details of his arrival in Kerala...though legend is very insistent that arrive there he did...and surely, as one of the 12, he must have set out as Jesus had told him to...empty handed...no bag, purse or sandals...armed only with his mission to  

Heal the sick who are there and announce, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’

And from that beginning came thousands and thousands of Indian Christians...

The kingdom of God has come near to you.

The kingdom of God has come near to US.

Can we see the signs?

Because, you see, that's part of the work of the Church today.

Yes, we are called to BE signs of the Kingdom – places of healing, of transformation and good news...but we are also called to spot and celebrate the Kingdom in all its joyous variety as it unfolds in our own communities.

Isn't that wonderful?

We are to go about our daily lives expecting to see God at work and celebrating whenever we do só.

We are to act as signposts, só that others too may begin to recognise the signs, glinting like precious gems amid the mundane, broken reality of our world.

Sometimes those signs will be big and obvious – last weekend's ordinations & Clare's 1^st Mass spring to mind – or a pet service in another place where an Archdeacon spent hours lovingly blessing each and every pet and their owner – reminding them by her infinite care that each of them is infinitely precious to God.

Sometimes they will be easy to overlook...things that might seem too small and insignificant to be worth celebrating.

Celebrate anyway.

The Kingdom of God has come near to us.....see.....

Someone who has been a beneficiary of the Food bank arrives there with a small bag of groceries to help another family on the edge...

Sweet peas transform an urban landscape with their pastel beauty and heavenly scent.

Laughter erupts between those see eye to eye on nothing much EXCEPT that joke...

A small child smiles and waves at the lonely old man who sits on the park bench

The Kingdom of God has come near to us

Signs of the Kingdom are signs of hope...evidence that God is at work each and every day in Uplands and Slad, in Stroud and Cainscross....and further afield, in every corner of the world God loves so much.

And we don't need special equipment or special training to equip us to notice or to celebrate.

All we need is a longing to be PART of the Kingdom in all its transforming joy and an openness to the God who will give us all that we need and more, if we can only bring ourselves to trust him.

RGBP Blog Carnival - Galship!!

Once upon a time I was a very new curate feeling my way into public ministry in the Church of England. Every day was different. I missed the regular contact and ready-made community of my friends from vicar-school, who had been my sounding-boards as I thought aloud about all that was going on and what God was up to...so I started blogging.
Just for myself.
I had no IDEA that there were blogging communities out there, that I might find like-minded souls, that anyone would actually read my blog at all.
Thinking aloud is what ENFPs do all the time - so typing into an apparent void was no problem whatsoever.
Blogging wasn't big in my circle...though one or two Greenbelt friends had blogs and I enjoyed reading them and was happy when they sometimes posted a comment on my early posts. 
I began to explore - but I was such a novice I didn't really know how to search, or what I might hope to find.
I could so easily have missed the whole thing!

I'm not sure how I first discovered Martha's blog...I'm not even sure which title she was using at that stage - but suddenly I seemed to be reading the words of a kindred spirit.
I'm that strange creature, a shy extrovert - so even on-line it took me a little while but one day I posted a comment - she responded....and we were off!
Her blog roll led me to other women in ministry and their friends...who gradually became my friends too.
I was part of the conversation that summer when someone suggested a "blog ring"....I rather think I asked what one of those might be....
Then came Katrina - and in the wake of that our friendships became ever closer, as we responded in love to a disaster that seemed very close to home, even in Cheltenham, England, because someone I cared about was so deeply affected.
We wrote books together - 2 collections of reflections that I'm still delighted to have on my shelves
We talked about maybe, just maybe, meeting face to face one day - but most of my friends were the far side of the Pond and trans Atlantic trips are not part of the stuff of life for 40 something clergywomen with 3 children and a mortgage...

But, amazingly,it happened!
Martha and her family were coming to England - and would be able to spend a night in Cheltenham if I liked. IF I LIKED?!? I've seldom been so excited...and the minute they got off the train I knew that we really WERE friends....that the internet was not a snare and a delusion but a place where real, lasting and life-giving connections could be forged. 
We talked and talked and laughed and talked and talked some more and it was very good.

Later I crossed the Atlantic myself to share with these special people in the very first Big Event.
Scared of flying, never having stayed in an hotel on my own, I somehow found the courage - because of the strength of our friendship and because I wanted to somehow testify by my presence to this wonderful network that we had made out of nothing as we sat at our computers.
Again it was good. I will never, til the day I die, forget an evening spent at the Midnight Buffet

I'm a vicar now. I blog much less - for the freedom of curacy is only a memory, many of the stories I hold are not mine to tell and in any case the online world has moved on.
But it was RevGals who showed me the way in which internet friendships can transform lives...My soul-sisters for whom I thank God whenever I think of you.

Sermon for the 1st Mass of Revd Clare Welham, St Matthew's Cainscross, 30th June 2013

Almighty and everlasting God,

by whose Spirit the whole body of the Church

is governed and sanctified:

hear our prayer which we offer for all your faithful people,

that in their vocation and ministry

they may serve you in holiness and truth

to the glory of your name;

through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,

Clare prayed these words earlier, on behalf of each one of us...

They come from the Collect - that prayer that gathers all our different needs, longings and joys into a sort of basket of prayer which the President then offers to God as we begin to change our way of being, from the disparate individuals that arrived in church into a congregation, gathered with the common purpose of worship.

And today Clare prays the Collect for the 1^st time – for, as a priest, she carries the Church's authority to preside at the Eucharist, to take the jumbled mess, the tangled threads of our lives and to offer them to God in this service that is both a celebration meal and a process of transformation.

We are all so full of joy and excitement at her priesting.

That wonderful service in our Cathedral yesterday, in which 8 men and women were ordained by God's Church to preside, to reconcile and to bless will surely leave all of us on a high for some time to come...

And here, in the church which is her spiritual home for now we are, quite simply, delighted for Clare. Not just A new priest but OUR new priest, someone whom we love, called to live out her ministry of prayer and preaching, of presiding, reconciliation and blessing HERE in THIS place.

That is a huge and wonderful gift to us – for which, I hope, we are properly thankful.

But – it would be a real shame if, in this weekend when we celebrate the ordination of new priests and deacons, we went home with the idea that vocation and ministry are just for the holy few.

“Vocation”, of course, means “Calling”......and it does not matter who you are, what your unique blend of gifts, strengths and weaknesses might be...It doesn't matter whether you have a firm sense of the presence of God, or are completely bemused by watching otherwise intelligent people sign their lives away to something that seems to you an extraordinary fable....you are nonetheless called to something.

Vocation, said someone far wiser than I, is the place where your gifts and the worlds needs meet.

And, of course, the world has many many needs.

Yes – it needs priests and deacons....but it needs teachers, doctors, and nurses too.

It needs musicians and painters, architects and actors, writers and sculptors.

And for the most part we've been good at recognising that sort of calling.

But, you know, your vocation may not actually be realised in your daily work.

It's an added bonus when it is – but it may be that there is something quite different which lies at the heart of what makes you YOU...something that brings you to life in a deeper way...and that nobody has ever turned into a job at all.

It may be two things – carer and writer – teacher and musician...or even three – priest, wife, mother

Those are all equal vocations – I wonder when we got hold of the idea that for something to be truly valuable to God, or to God's world, it needed to be a full-time occupation – ideally with a salary?

If you pause to think, you'll realise that it's far FAR wider.

There are those with a vocation to listen...those with a vocation to make houses into homes...those with a vocation to turn a patch of scrubby ground into a productive, even a beautiful garden.

There are those with a vocation to parent or grand-parent...and, if you're old enough to remember seeing “Chariots of Fire” in the 80s you might remember the runner Eric Liddell saying “God made me FAST and when I run I feel his pleasure”

Vocation may be public and obvious, or hidden, behind the scenes.

You may always have known what it is – or you may not yet be certain.

Vocation is, I would say, what you are left with when you take away all the “oughts” and “shoulds”...

It's the thing you keep coming back to, that will never quite leave you alone.

It won't always feel “good” - but it will always feel true...something that you just HAVE to do in order to be truly yourself, something that helps you to be fully alive

It has, in fact, a kind of inevitability to it. It is what you are FOR.

Nobody else can sing your song in the world if you remain silent.

For Jesus – his vocation was who he was...God's love lived out in a human life...

But it didn't always feel good for him either

“He set his face towards Jerusalem” - says Luke, writing in today's gospel

There's surely something there of the struggle to screw yourself up to do something that you know will be hard but that only you can do...a sense of resolution, of determined focus on the needful task, no matter what the cost.

And for Jesus, as for those ordained this weekend, vocation – who he is – and ministry – how he shows it – are close to being the same thing.

Every minute of his journey towards Jerusalem, each conversation along the way, reveals more of the truth of his identity and his calling.

And at the heart of it, as for all Christian people, is the call to loving service.

That is what ministry is...just another word for “service”....the placing of your gifts, the essence of your vocation, at the disposal of others.

Sometimes, as for Clare today, those others will welcome and celebrate your gifting.

Sometimes being true to your vocation will force you to stand outside the walls – to speak uncomfortable truths that few want to hear or simply to move on.

Even Jesus had to do this. He didn't hang around trying to persuade the Samaritan villagers to change their minds, nor did he compromise his message and ministry to make it easier for them.

He could not both please everyone and stay true to his calling (and, though sometimes it seems that clergy are expected to stand as universal nice-guys, that situation remains true today)

If there was a choice to be made, he kept on keeping on.

He had set his face towards Jerusalem and was not to be distracted from his journey.

And he has laid that on us, his would-be disciples, too.

We are to be tireless, single-minded in following -whether we're called to live out our vocation as priests or painters, flower-arrangers or treasurers

I know very little about ploughing – but I'm told that if you look back over your shoulder when you are trying to plough, you will inevitably end up making a mess of the task, and leave the field with wiggly furrows.

The trick is to keep looking forward...focussing on the goal.

If you want to do the job properly, you simply can't look back – no matter how attractive the landscape behind you.

But we do have a choice in this journey of vocation.

We are all called, but we are never constrained.

The hymns that Clare has chosen for us to sing today reflect this...

First we heard God's invitation “I heard the voice of Jesus say Come unto me.....”

Then came our response “I choose to be holy, - set apart for you Lord”

Later we will affirm that each of us comes “Just as I am” - a jumble of hopes and dreams, fears and failures, doubts and certainties

We come as we are – because that's what it's all about.

God calls us as we are – to use the gifts that He has given us.

He calls us into relationship with Him

He calls us to make his love known

God will never force us – but as you ponder your own vocation today, remember that all our individual vocations contribute to the over-arching purpose God has for God's Church and God's world, which Paul wrote of to the Galatians

“ use your freedom to serve one another in love”

This is what each of us, ordained or lay, believer or sceptic, is invited to today.

Use your freedom to serve one another in love

May God bless us as we try to live that calling – for his sake, and the sake of his world.

Clothed and in our right mind - a homily for 8.00 Proper 7C

As I'm sure you know, MARAH – the charity that offers food and support to homeless and vulnerable adults in and around Stroud – offers open house for lunch at “Fresh Ground” twice a week. I've recently been invited to spend some time there, as a kind of unofficial chaplain “loitering with intent”, hearing stories and offering support where I can. It's a privilege to be there, seeing those whom we might struggle to engage with because of their challenging behaviour welcomed in as friends and served as honoured guests. It's a joy to realise that some of the volunteer staff first visited as clients...and to hear their stories of transformation and hope. It is a constant reminder that new starts are always possible by God's grace, no matter how messed up we are – and that once transformed, even we can become agents of God's love for others.

The demoniac in our gospel takes the phrase “challenging behaviour” to a whole new level. Small wonder that he is excluded from normal society. He's as frightening as he is frightened - not simply because of the shouting, the antisocial behaviour, the unnatural strength. His vulnerability is alarming too – a brutal reminder of our own frailty (“unaccomodated man is no more than such a poor bare forked animal as thou” says the Fool to Lear) Naked among the tombs, he is prey to the elements, and to other forces beyond his control, beyond OUR control.

Apparently beyond help he is cast out by his community,cut off, left to a living death. Isn't it always easier to turn away from those who challenge us, who make us uncomfortable because they don't fit into our patterns of acceptable behaviour? We might not speak of demonic possession today – but many people find themselves at the mercy of feelings, thoughts and patterns of behaviour that they would never have chosen...driven by addictions beyond their control..And we are still wary – disguise our own lurches off the tightrope of acceptable behaviour – urge wobbling friends to seek help – cross the road to avoid direct contact with those who make us nervous.

But in this place of fear and fragmentation we meet Jesus. We shouldn't be surprised to find him there. Others may have written the demoniac off – but not Jesus. He always pays particular attention to those shut out, literally and metaphorically -- those with nothing, beggars at the gate, lepers, loose women and dead children.

He thinks nothing of engaging with the ritually unclean – and here he is in unclean Gentile territory, underlined by the presence of that herd of swine...

Jesus is never choosy about the company he keeps -for he is intent on restoring not just the individual but the community as well....Again and again he confronts everything that stands in the way of wholeness, everything that divides us from one another, everything that prevents us from knowing the love of God in loving community.

Here in this wasteland of death and destructive behaviour Jesus stands – and sees that within the alarming person of the demoniac is one of God's own precious children. The demoniac recognises Jesus too – asking him a crucial question

“What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the most high God”

Naming is powerful. The demoniac has lost his own name, his own identity. He is at the mercy of fightings and fears, within without...but Jesus speaks into that maelstrom and brings healing – for that is always his purpose as he comes into our lives.

Paul recognised this as he wrote to the Galatians, who modelled a society no less entrammelled by fightings and fears...Like us, they were quick to show suspicion of the stranger, eager to draw lines, to exclude some and approve others. Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female – divisions all the way...some are “in” and others firmly “out”. But that's not Christ's way.

In Him these divisions are overcome – along with all the others that prevent us from living as citizens of the Kingdom. Can we name some of those demons? There's Poverty. Racism. Sexism. Religious Bigotry. There are all too many such powers in this world, a thousand varieties of hardness of heart that shut out some people, and imprison others.

But clothed in Christ we too can recover our right mind, and learn afresh the deep truth that we are all children of God through faith -- none less worthy of good food and clean water, shelter, medicine, or education, of love and hope.

Clothed and in our right mind, we have a new purpose...to share in Christ's ministry of healing and reconciliation in our turn and, like the demoniac before us, to declare how much God has done for us.

Take my love, oh Lord, I pour at your feet its treasure store - meditation for Trinity 2C at St Matthew's

Very much a risk - I'm offering this as a guided meditation for both 8.00 and 10.00. Hard to imagine more differing congregations but....

This morning we're going to tell the gospel story together...

I don't mean by this that we're going to join in with the words in the same way that we do on Palm Sunday....but we are going to work at making it OUR story.....at bringing the events of the past into our present.

So come with me to Jerusalem...to the house of Simon the Pharisee.

It's quite a grand place – and today it is full of important people.

Look around you

How do you feel about being there?

Are you comfortable and at home – or do you feel a bit of an outsider?

You are there because it's a special occasion.

Jesus, the wandering teacher and prophet, has been invited for a meal.

Simon is anxious to see for himself just how dangerous the man may be

Perhaps you share his suspicions.

Perhaps you are waiting to see him for yourself before drawing any conclusions.

He's here – taking his place at the table.

You join those who crowd around him – for you want to hear what he has to say.

But then – there's a commotion – his words drowned out by another voice entirely.

Someone is pushing through the crowd – hair loose – dishevelled – weeping - wailing

What an embarrassment!

Nobody wants that sort of scene at a dinner party

Is she drunk?

She's certainly wildly emotional – bending over Jesus, kissing his feet, swamping them with her tears – and now she's using that free-flowing hair like a towel.

And what's that smell?

Perfume....not cheap by the smell of it.......but very pervasive

It's everywhere.

You can't get away from it.

Listen – Jesus is speaking to Simon.

Strain your ears to hear him.

“Do you see this woman?”

We've all seen her right enough...couldn't miss her if we tried.

But it doesn't seem that Jesus is irritated by her

His voice is full of love as he speaks of the woman.

Amazing!

Listen to his words as he rebukes Simon for his failures of hospitality but commends the woman, in all her messy abandon, for showing great love.

How do you feel now?

Are you irritated that her bad behaviour is being rewarded, indignant that Simon, who has done his best in inviting Jesus to visit, should be publicly humiliated by his guest.

Or is there something here that gives you hope?

“Her sins, which are many, have been forgiven...hence she has shown great love”

Think of those things for which you need forgiveness.

What precious gift would you now bring to Him in gratitude?

Take it and place it in his hands.

It is accepted.

YOU are accepted.

Hear Jesus speak those words for you.

“Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”