Last year, her majesty the Queen, became the longest serving British Monarch. Overtaking Queen Victoria’s record of 63 years and 254 days – Queen Elizabeth has now notched up 64 years and 126 days. That’s quite some term of office.

It may surprise you, therefore, to note that in the worldwide league of longest serving monarchs she ranks only 44^th.

The gold medal goes to King Sobhuza II of Swaziland – who ruled from 1899 – 1982 – a reign of 82 years and 254 days. To be fair, he did have an advantage – ascending to the throne when he was only 4 months old!

Among his other notable achievements were the fact that he had 70 wives and 210 children. Given that fact, I think HE did rather well to survive to the age of 83!

For size of family, then, I don’t think our Queen is going to come even near the top of the list –  so let’s park that thought to one side and begin again on another tack!

A report published this week, in Science Advances, revealed that some four fifths of the world’s population live beneath light-polluted skies. And some 60%of Western European are unable to see the night sky as it really is – such is the level of artificial light that we produce.

And so many of us are deprived of the sense of wonder and timelessness that comes from finding ourselves beneath a clear night sky – entranced by the brilliance of the stars and appreciating, perhaps the sheer vastness of the universe beyond – still expanding, way beyond the limits of our imaginations.

Instead, what 80% of the world’s population see is the murky glow from street lighting and neon signs – blotting out the natural wonders that lie beyond.

And it seemed to me that, in our industrialised nations, there is something of a paradox there: our developing technologies now enable us to see in ever greater detail the realities of life in other parts of the globe – whether it be the horrors of war in Syria or the drama of some sporting event thousands of miles away.

And yet, it now appears, one side-effect result of that technological development is to blot out the worlds beyond – to make our perspective smaller – not bigger.

Our attention is rarely deflected from an obsession with ourselves – with what people are doing – rather than with the changing backdrop beyond us.

There is nothing intrinsically good or evil about advancing technology – it makes possible many things that were unimaginable when our queen came to the throne. And yet, if we allow it, it may distract us from the timeless truths that underpin our very existence.

And so, as with anything else, it’s important to keep it all in proper perspective.

Without wishing to stir up a hornets’ nest, or to steer you in either direction, I want to suggest that the matter of perspective has also dogged much of the recent debate around our membership of the European Union.

Rather like those poor people who never see beyond the orange glow of the street lamp, almost all of the arguments being made seem to focus on this tiny island – what will make keep US safe, what will protect OUR jobs and OUR incomes.

Precious little has been said about what impact our membership of the EU has on the stability of Europe as a whole, or the wider family of nations. Almost nothing has been said about the greater vision of global development.

It’s almost as if we’re so obsessed with defending our own way of life that we are blind to the bigger, long-term questions of how we can sustain life on earth against the backdrop of global warming and rising populations.

I am very much afraid that we have NOT got all things in proper perspective – and, with a referendum looming, that concerns me.

IF we are going to make an enlightened choice on 23^rd June – we do need to consider both the global perspective and the perspective of history.

One of the terms we HAVE heard within the debate is “sovereignty” – by which those using it have meant our right to national self-determination… choosing our own laws, for example without interference from others.

And yet, for us, national sovereignty is inextricably linked with the sovereign – with the Queen. Our national self-determination is rooted in the monarch – who symbolises for us a way of life that is bigger than any political system.

Our unelected Head of State is a living, breathing reminder – that there are always bigger issues at stake than the latest whim of politicians and bureaucrats – on either side of the English Channel.

And that perspective I think is too easily ignored.

Our present Queen has been a constant – and a model of duty and service – throughout her 62 years’ reign. During that time Britain has moved from Imperial power, to “lead nation” among the Commonwealth, to a more equal partner among those nations AND to membership of the European Union (amongst other groupings).

Our own population has grown and changed, almost beyond recognition – we are far more aware of other cultures, other ways of doing things, than we were. Our food is probably more exciting that it was! At the same time we have become less good at keeping a healthy sense of community – especially in our bigger cities and conurbations.

All of those developments, all of the advantages and the challenges, need to be borne in mind as we attempt to map the future – for our own nation and for our relationship with others.

Within the British constitution – which emerged from a backdrop of political tensions and religious intolerance – Church, Parliament and Monarch are locked in balance and so, at least in theory, all are kept in check.

And it seems to me that, in an age of rising nationalism and religious fanaticism, that model of mutual accountability has something valid to offer.

The Queen provides both an element of continuity and also a reminder of the bigger picture – of the politicians’ accountability BEYOND their own party, of faith communities’ accountability to the population as a whole, and the accountability of all of us to God, not JUST our neighbours or our families.

That, I think, is a very valid perspective and one which can sustain our sense on national identity – whether that be within a reformed European Union as some of our leaders hope, or as a newly independent nation as do others.

The role of the monarchy has changed enormously since the Queen’s coronation in 1953. And yet, despite some tricky moments and an annus horribilis or two, the institution of the monarchy has not only survived but flourished.

This particular monarch has allowed her role to flex and evolve as the world has changed, but never lost touch with the promises she made at the outset.

And I think that there is something valuable in that: Our queen’s example is a reminder – to our politicians and to all of us perhaps – that we can’t go back to past, and neither can we pretend that the past didn’t happen.

It’s unrealistic to suppose that an exit from the European Union would allow us to go back to the way things “used to be”. It’s equally unrealistic to pretend that life has always been like this – that there is no alternative.

Life CAN always get better – within Europe or outside – IF sufficient people are determined that it should and are prepared to work at making it happen.

Like the Queen, we as a nation, are challenged to reflect on what is fundamental to our identity – to preserve those things and to learn how to apply them in the new and changing circumstances in which we live.  We are challenged to remember our mistakes – and the mistakes of others – and to avoid repeating them whenever possible!

It is as a broadly Christian, but instinctively inclusive society – which doesn’t take either its political or religious leaders TOO seriously – that we can best hope to forge a useful future among the nations of the world. And if our monarchy can play a role in preserving and encouraging that national spirit – long may it continue!

Sermon preached on Trinity Sunday, 22nd May, 2016.

Readings: Proverbs 8: 1-4, 22-31  and John 16. 12-15

Last weekend, I managed to dip into two very different TV programmes – both allegedly about music!

On Saturday evening, it was the Eurovision Song contest – which for some reason now includes Australia!! And I very quickly found myself missing the acerbic wit of Terry Wogan – who always helped us not to take it all too seriously. No outlandish costume or pedestrian lyrics were safe from his gentle sarcasm.

Secondly, I began to miss any real sense of musical performance: – special effects seemed to be more important that the actual songs – and the music so digitally altered that you really can’t tell what the performers actually sound like.

And after ten minutes or so, I heard myself saying: “Oh, can we just have something with a proper tune in it? This just sounds like noise!” And, even as I was speaking,  I  heard my grandmother saying pretty the same thing in about 1976! So maybe it’s just that I’m just getting older!!

There was an altogether more rewarding experience on Sunday evening with the Finals of               “Young Musician of the Year”. Three very different musicians took to the stage and, in stark contrast, we could see and hear every detail of their performance. There was a real sense that they were involved in communicating something worthwhile to their audience.

Summing up, just before announcing the winner, the judges’ spokesperson thanked all the competitors for their dedication to their art and, in her own words,  “for shutting the door on the mediocrity that pervades our society”.  And that comment drew almost as much applause as the performances themselves.

But was it a fair comment? Was she right in suggesting that mediocrity is too often accepted as the norm? I have to say that after watching the Eurovision Song I think she might have had a point!

Certainly, the level of debate and the lack of proper, detailed information – ahead of the EU referendum – do rather suggest that our political leaders don’t expect very much from us in terms of intellectual rigour.

And perhaps we are naturally suspicious, or jealous even, of those who stand out as exceptional in their field:         the media love to brand things as “elitist” if only a few manage to achieve them. Although I do think it’s funny that the stars of the Royal Ballet are seen as elitist but the overpaid “prima-donnas” of the football pitch are not! –  a certain cultural bias I think..

But actually, there’s nothing new in all that: it does seem to be part of our human nature that we prefer things to be straightforward – prefer people to blend in with the crowd,  prefer ideas to be comforting rather than challenging.

We only have to look back to the Old Testament to see the lonely walk that the Prophets endured, for daring to stir things up and speak some new vision.

And yet, in today’s very short Gospel reading, Jesus turns that on its head.

God’s wisdom, he suggests, IS too great for us to comprehend – and yet we are to keep striving for grasp it more fully. “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth.”

Jesus urges his closest friends to expect more – to keep on searching for God’s truth. And he calls us, his Church, to that same expectation – to spiritual growth in its purest sense.

In our faith, just as much as any other aspect of our lives, we may well shy away from what seems complex, or obscure.

But sometimes we need to stick with things – patiently chipping away – until some truth, some insight, is revealed to us.

Today on, Trinity Sunday, we’re reminded that the Doctrine of the Trinity is fundamental to our faith: It sets Christianity apart from all other belief systems and philosophies.

But how many of us have a clear understanding of what it means to speak of “one God in three persons”?

And if we throw in a few theological definitions such as “co-eternal and consubstantial”, it probably doesn’t make the picture any clearer!

Like all our attempts to understand and to define God, the doctrine of the Trinity is limited by our own imperfect knowledge. But it is an attempt to reflect something of that complexity, that all-embracing reality which is the mystery of the living God – who is so much greater than any of us can express.

Speaking about the Holy Trinity – of God the “three-in-one”, is hard: it’s not easy to make sense of and it still doesn’t say all that could be said about God. And yet, if we can get past our initial bafflement, the Doctrine of the Trinity can point us towards important truths about the nature of God, and about ourselves.

Firstly, a Trinitarian God is clearly neither “Superman”, nor our “imaginary friend”.

A being made up of three persons cannot simply be represented as one of us writ large.         The God who inspires our human thoughts – but is far beyond our understanding, who makes himself known to us – but is infinitely more than our own experiences of him, is so much more complex than that.

Secondly, God’s own nature is defined in terms of relationships – the three persons of the Trinity supporting one another, totally dependent on each other –  each unique, but incomplete without the others.  And so we learn that that is how we, who are made in his image, are also meant to be.

As Christians we are called to cherish and learn from each other – to value not only our own reason and experiences, but also those of the whole Communion of Saints throughout the ages.

Thirdly, and lastly, each of the persons of the Trinity  is given different attributes.

The Father is often seen as the Creator of all life, Jesus as its Redeemer and the Holy Spirit as its sustainer.

While all three persons are inseparable, and all involved in the whole process, each person of the Trinity is seen as making a particular contribution to God’s work of salvation. They are not all the same – and none is more important than the others.

And surely, that is how the Church is meant to be.

We are not all the same: we have many and varied gifts among us and it is only when all those gifts are allowed to flourish that the life of the Church truly mirrors the life of God, the Holy Trinity.

Within the fellowship of Christ, none of us is more important than any other. We need to value and support each other, with the same generosity that we perceive in the three persons of the Trinity that make up the one God.

And if the reality of the Church doesn’t always quite feel like that, then perhaps we need to spend more time grappling with the vision of God the Holy Trinity, complicated and imperfect though it may be, until it really does shape who we are and how we behave towards one another.

I started by comparing the twin musical experiences of Eurovision and Young Musician of the year – the one glitzy but pedestrian, the other intense and compelling.

Our own faith, and the vision of God that we hold on to and communicate to other people, will only be compelling if we can muster the Young musicians’ dedication and willingness to face up to the things we find difficult and complex.

The alternative would be the “Church of Eurovision” – and that is a “vision” I think we can all live without!

For the second time in 8 years it feels, to me, that we are undergoing something of a sea-change in personnel. Some of those who, 18 months ago, were pretty key in getting things done are either no longer here OR are needing now to step back.
At the same time, within the past few months, we’ve seen a number of new faces here – some frequently, some trying us out more gently.

That sense of change is often unsettling and sometimes alarming – not least if we don’t really feel that we understand the way things are going or why. But while change may be inevitable, that unease about is not: things DO sometimes change for the better!
It’s against that shifting backdrop that I asked many of you, a few weeks ago, to prepare for this meeting by asking yourself, “what would help you to feel confident about who YOU are as a Christian, and what you are about?” – and to consider “how we can encourage and support each other throughout the year – so that we all feel that we know what is going on, what we’re trying to achieve, and so that we can communicate that to other people”.

With that thought in mind, a small group from the PCC met recently to review the various means we have of communicating information – the Weekly Sheet, Parish News, our Parish Website (and others), our Facebook page and various email contacts – as well as the “Valley News”. Each of those strands reaches a subtly different target group – and we are learning to shape the content appropriately.
The group’s major concern was the Parish News. Firstly, we need it to stop losing money – our advertising revenue needs at least to cover the cost of printing. More fundamentally we have currently no editor.
There IS a willing support group – able to help with anything from advertising to proof-reading – but no one has come forward with the time and computer skills to put it all together. As it stands, then, there will be no magazine next month.
If any of you sitting here is thinking that you might be able to take this on, or that you know just the person, please do act on that impulse sooner rather than later!
Of course it IS possible that we won’t find anyone to take this on – in which case, we can adapt to life without a magazine, and go on to find another way to reach those who would miss it. There is always more than one possible solution!

In any case feeling that we know what’s going on is about far more than just passing on information. It’s also about confidence in our own place within the congregation, and it’s about developing ways to encourage and to challenge each other.
It’s in that exchange of ideas and mutual support that we can begin to assess the way in which things are changing, to grow through that change and not to fear it, and to shape our future direction with a greater clarity and sense of purpose.
And, of course that takes time – and it really needs us deliberately to MAKE time to meet – beyond the controlled environment of our Sunday worship.
So what I hope we might explore, now, is whether we can reinvigorate some of the smaller groups we have – or have had – and whether there are other groups we might form. Ideally these need to be “low maintenance” – in terms of planning and running them – and inexpensive for those taking part. Ideally we need a richer menu of activities that will enable groups of us to spend time together – and that will “feed” us – will energise us to deal with the other things we do.
So, hold onto your seats, and I’ll rattle through my list for starters!

Those of you who like to feed your faith through study – or reflection, might like to spend some time simply reading the Bible together – without any particular theme or expectation – just for the experience of hearing Scripture read aloud and having time to really take it in and perhaps to share your reactions to it.
We might develop further some form of “Reading Group” – picking up on the Life Stories group that met in Lent – reflecting on particular authors or books.
Or how about a “Prayer school” – meeting perhaps once a month to explore different traditions of prayer – allowing individuals to discover what “works” well for them, and conversely allowing the group to hold others in prayer.
I’m already planning to find time for a 10 week course – designed for those who lead worship, – involving a little history, a look at how other people do things, and what are we ALL trying to in our worship. That could easily be turned into a Study course for anyone else interested, without creating much extra work.
We’ve been through a couple of cycles of the Aldhelm Course now – and perhaps that has now reached the end of its shelf-life – but we could look again at short modules from the Emmaus Course or something similar.
There is certainly room for a more informal discussion group – where we can simply grapple with live issues in relation to our Faith – what I’d call “Life Matters”. We could do that over supper, as Salon used to – or perhaps in the pub as the Harnham churches do!

For those who already have enough of “words” in their ordinary lives, but might enjoy something more physical – we might spend time Walking together – somethings we have tried, and enjoyed – whether as formal pilgrimage or just enjoying God’s creation and each other’s company.
Something we haven’t tried, but which has been mentioned by a few of you, is the idea of a Men’s Breakfast Club – whether self-catered or not! Again, that could be the trigger for more discussion, something more active, or just “time out”!
(And if the women here are feeling left out, you could have one too!)

We already have Coffee Corner that serves well in nurturing young mums and tots, but perhaps we might explore a tea time slot – quite possibly for a different age range. Several of the Chalke churches do just that – with Tea at 3, Tea in the church and even “Knit and natter” – all good ways of getting to know each other better AND of gently encouraging in newcomers.
I’ve been toying with the idea of a Film Club – either for our young people or more generally. That’s a bit more complicated, but certainly not impossible.
I’m now running the School Choir as an after-school club – and we previosuly had an after school singing group which successfully brought together a mix of young people and adults for a time – perhaps you might like to help or get involved in something like that?

We’re gradually getting to know a bit more about what our Deanery projects in Sudan are achieving – is there any mileage in a Cueibet group – who might keep up with those things and pray for them?

Or, if your heart is really in just bringing people together, could you plot occasionally as part of a Social group – nudging us into arranging the odd quiz evening or invited tea, or whatever seems fruitful?

Of course we already have other groups – and a whole list of roles – by which you can contribute to the life of our churches and hopefully feel affirmed by them. None of what I’ve just said is meant to detract from those things.
But I’m very much aware that our congregations include artists and musicians, scientists and health professionals, keen gardeners and sporty people – people from a variety of backgrounds and with a wealth of experience – some of which remains hidden from the rest of us.
And the reason I’m dwelling on this subject is NOT because I want to heap yet more expectations on any of you – but that I want to be sure that our churches provide each of us with something in which we WANT to be involved – something that inspires us, which makes us feel that we belong – and that we are recognised and appreciated for the things that matter to us, AND for the gifts we bring into the mix.
There are almost certainly many other and better ideas than those that I’ve just come up with – let’s think about the possibilities and see what we can develop in the coming months.

We are going to need both the vision, to see what we COULD do, in ideal circumstances, and also the realism to know what we actually CAN do, now, with the resources we have.

On that note, I need to bounce on to our Summer Festival and to reflect that it has become something of a chore over the past few years – and positively stressful at times for those pulling it all together. Clearly that’s not quite the fulfilling involvement that I just described!
What was intended as a chance to engage the community and to showcase the life of our church – can easily backfire – if those running it are demoralised and our visitors on the day see only a pale shadow of what actually goes on here normally!
As a general rule, our aim should be to do things really well – or not at all. And I think we have reached another point of decision.
Do we still think that a major summer event on the second Saturday of June IS something we want to do – and so pull together and make it a success – OR we find other ways of engaging our neighbours and raising money. It may in fact be easier to arrange a few smaller events across the year, perhaps with the Christmas Market as the major event. Something for honest reflection and discussion.
We are committed this year to Royal weekend on 11th and 12th June – which provides a significant opportunity for our parish Church to figure prominently in more general community celebrations.
The organisers do still need help – we need volunteers for the refreshment stalls, we need muscle power to set up on the Friday evening and to tidy away on the Sunday evening – and various other tasks along the way. Please do check what’s needed and do whatever you can manage to help. Again, I’m certainly not trying to bounce the pressure onto a different set of people – just to spread the load a bit!
We have another planning meeting on Thursday 28th – if you are able to be there, or can let us know before then something of any way in which you can help with – that would ease the burden considerably on the current organisers.
On my right, then, against the wall are two boards – one with details of St. Peter’s and also the Summer Festival, the other with the various small groups I’ve outlined.
Please do have a look at all of them TODAY – before you leave – and if there IS something there that you think might help you to feel confident about who YOU are as a Christian, and what you are about – sign up. That won’t commit you to anything – it’s just to give an indication of what light be viable and to get things started.
And if there are other things that you know you’d like, but which aren’t there – or if you can think of other ways we COULD encourage and support each other throughout the year – please do add them to the suggestions sheet.

By this time next year, things will have changed again – in our churches and in the communities we serve. If we are ready to accept that fact, and to work together to embrace it, we can make that change a positive experience for us all.

Sermon preached on 13^th March, 2016

Readings: Isaiah 43: 16-21 and John 12: 1-8

Today is what we used to call “Passion Sunday” – but, before any of you get the wrong idea, let’s be clear, that’s Passion with a capital “P” and refers to Christ’s Passion – the events leading up to his arrest and execution.

Today’s readings are already starting to hint at what lies ahead – there’s the optimism of Isaiah – of new things “springing forth” – the power of God to create and re-create – to bring new life out of death.

And then, in our Gospel reading, there’s a series of contrasts:

the contrast between this meal shared, as if in gratitude for Lazarus whom Jesus has raised from the dead, and the Last Supper that Jesus will soon share with his disciples, on the eve of his own death.

There’s the contrast between Mary’s loving, generous act in anointing Jesus’ feet – and Judas’ hostile reaction, sewing the seeds perhaps for the betrayal to come.

And of course, there is the contrast between two sisters – dutiful Martha, serving food, and dreamy Mary –  giving her full attention to Jesus, rather than lending a hand.

And it’s that difference, between siblings, that I want to pick up on now. We can, I’m sure, think of families where we find those same dynamics – a serious minded sibling alongside a more playful one.

And I suspect that we can also recognise both personality types in our churches too. It’s been suggested that most congregations conform to a 20/80 rule, where 20% of the people do 80% of the work involved. And clearly, that can sometimes lead the 20% to feel frustrated and unsupported – just as Martha did.

But one thing we learn from Jesus’ attitude to these two sisters is that “work” comes in different guises.  And there may well be people in our churches who do very firmly resist joining any committee or working party – but whose faith is so clear and generous that they serve the rest of us by rooting us firmly in God’s service.  And we need those individuals – just as much as the grafters  – to remind us all WHY we stick at it – and  what all those meetings are actually FOR!

In short – our churches need BOTH our “Marthas” and our “Marys” – of both sexes!

And if we see those differences in the way we get things done, the same is surely true when it comes to the business of worshipping together.

Some of us are liturgical Marthas – who need to feel actively involved, and get fidgety if too much is left to others. Some of us are more akin to Mary, preferring to let the service wash over us, to be caught up in the general flow, and for our own adoration to flow just as freely in return.

And those two approaches don’t always mesh together.

It was partly for that reason that, last year, we undertook a thorough review of our Easter services – to make sure that each of us could immerse ourselves in worship somewhere within the mix.

This year, we’ve kept things pretty much the same – but since it is 11 months since we thought through it all, it might be good just to remind ourselves, before Holy Week begins, of what we were trying to do.

We begin, on Palm Sunday, with a sense of optimism and jubilation.  The Procession of Palms and Eucharist recall Christ’s entry into Jerusalem and the joyful response of the crowds. And – weather permitting – WE will gather in the Market Square, together with our Baptist friends, and members of the band, to begin Holy Week together with that same sense of joyful expectation.

On the Monday, there’s the more reflective experience of the Stations of the Cross –  at 6pm – with a short act of devotion at each of the stations around the walls here, preparing for the events of Good Friday.

Since most schools don’t finish term until Maundy Thursday, this year, we won’t have chance to prepare the larger “Experience Easter” stations.

And so our Family Activities slot will move to Good Friday at 10 am, and will be in the Community Centre – so that the silence here is undisturbed.

We will, I HOPE, produce something to display here on Easter Sunday.

We re-designed our service on Maundy Thursday evening, with a shared meal, incorporating elements of the Last Supper and leading to a simple Eucharist and a final reading, to recall Jesus’ praying in Gethsemane before his arrest and the scattering of his disciples.

Last year that all worked very well – APART from the fact that we were serenaded by the Town Band one side, and had the Weightwatchers group on the other! SO – the only change this year is that we will hold the meal here, at the back of church.

For those of you who don’t like to come out in the evenings, and anyone who would find the quiet, solemnity helpful, Good Friday in church begins at 9.00am — with the “Mass of the pre-sanctified” – a shortened form of Holy Communion, using bread and wine which has been blessed the previous evening.

I’ve mentioned the families slot at 10.00am – and so to the ecumenical procession of witness (from the Parish Church to St Peter’s churchyard), beginning at 11 o’clock.

This is our opportunity to step out in faith – to risk whatever reaction we may provoke and so, in some small way, to identify ourselves with both the loyalty of those who stood by Jesus and also the inadequacy of those who fled.

And then, between 2 and 3 o’clock our Choir will lead a special service  in which we’ll reflect on the “Seven Last Words” –   Jesus’ final utterances from the Cross.

That’s a time to be still, to appreciate the full enormity of the crucifixion and the desolation of those who’d given everything to follow Jesus.  And after that service, the church falls silent.

SO, no church services on Holy Saturday, as we preserve that sense of emptiness and desolation.

There will be a short vigil – readings and meditation in preparation for Easter – just for one hour before midnight, and held in the community centre so as not to disturb the emptiness here too soon.

Then, at midnight, we great the Easter Dawn – as the beacon (giant bonfire) is lit and the “new flame” is taken in procession, through the candlelit churchyard, to light the Paschal Candle at the main entrance to the church. Then into the darkened church with just the one candle flame – then many – and the light spreads until the darkness IS overcome, and onto the traditional Easter liturgy – blessing the Altar with incense, renewing the promises made at our baptism and celebrating the first Eucharist of Easter.

In the morning proper – and not forgetting the Clock change this year! – there’s the calm of the 8 o’clock service at St. John’s and the Parish Eucharist at 10.45 – where we aim to welcome and involve all our visitors and families in particular.

That’s the briefest summary I could manage!

And if all that feels a bit like navel gazing – obsessing over things that in the bigger picture are not really that important – then I’d want I’d want to suggest that this IS one time in the year when we SHOULD obsess over our religious observance.

Over the next 2 weeks – the real heart of our faith is laid bare and examined, as we’re invited to walk through the last few days of Jesus’ earthly life.

And, whether you can make it to many of those things, or a few – whether you will be a 20% or an 80% person –  let’s aim to immerse ourselves as fully as we can in the story of Christ’s Passion and resurrection.

Committing ourselves whole-heartedly to our Easter worship –  and being clear and unapologetic that that is what we are doing – enables us to get to grips with both the meaning and the power of the Gospel.

It’s from that springboard that we are able to see where, in the real world of our day, new shoots are already “springing forth“ and where God is calling us to do our bit to renew and transform what has gone wrong.

And that means first imitating Mary – in her unrestrained adoration of Christ – and then imitating tireless, practical Martha in caring for others.

All of us will find one of those two things more natural than the other – but in striving to achieve both, we are serving Christ as BOTH Martha and Mary did.

Sermon preached on The Baptism of Christ 

 I’ve sometimes referred to Epiphany as “the season of revelation” – a time when  we gradually learn more about Christ’s identity. And this first week of Epiphany has seen revelations of a different kind, however, and not always welcome ones.

I suspect that for many people Friday evening was rather spoiled by the publication of a report by the Government’s Chief Medical Officer, Dame Sally Davies, – which stated that, after all,  Red wine is NOT particularly good for our health.

Presumably now we can wait for a u-turn on dark chocolate too!

But then, almost at the same time, there was some surprisingly good news for some of us. Other voices this week have been proclaiming the health benefits of the next superfood.

And what was it they were celebrating? –  well, naturally, it was the Black Pudding.

Speaking as someone who grew up only a few miles from Bury Market, in Lancashire – the true home of the Black Pudding – I have to say that I was rather surprised to hear this particular revelation!   I do actually like the taste of black pudding, and I have been known to enjoy the odd Full English breakfast when it’s on offer – but I’d certainly never thought of either  of those things as  health food!

Apparently, however, black pudding is a valuable source of iron, of potassium, of calcium and magnesium – while not posing the same health risks recently attributed to processed meats such as bacon and ham.

But then, of course, even before we’ve had chance to digest that information let alone some actual black pudding,  someone else has to come along to spoil it all:  a spokesman for the Institute of Food Research pointed out that black pudding is also around 15 – 20% fat, high in calories and in salt.  Possibly NOT quite so good for us after all!

It may be then, that if you wanted to assess whether or not this particular northern delicacy is for you,  your gut reaction to the list of ingredients may be at least as good as test as a list of the chemical traces found in them.

As so often – it’s a matter of perspective – what you “see” depends on what you were looking for in the first place.

So, before I either start to make you feel hungry OR put you off your lunch completely, let’s turn to the particular “revelation” of this morning’s Gospel.

Here again there is a question of perspective.

This particular event – the Baptism of Christ – is recorded in all four gospels, but with a slightly different focus. It’s not always clear, for example, whether the voice from heaven is addressed to the reader, to the crowds gathered by the Jordan or – as seems the case with the version from Luke’s gospel that we’ve just heard – to Jesus himself.

“YOU are my Son, the beloved, in YOU I am well pleased.”

In other Gospels we read “This is my Son” and “He is my Son” – slightly less direct and a slightly more theatrical presentation of God the Father, perhaps.

We simply can’t know which if these accounts, if any, is factually correct. Taken together, the four gospels encourage us to ponder what effect this event had on all those who were there – and whether it’s possible that this was the point where Christ first realised the full implications of his own identity  –  the human Jesus grasping at his Father’s divine revelation as we do.

The common factor in all four gospels however is the Father’s expression of love for Jesus – it is that which is reveals to US the true nature of God and which, in context, gives Jesus the strength to face what lies ahead.

And that revelation, I think, IS for the reader of the gospels –  IS for the crowd gathered around Jesus and IS for Jesus himself. What we learn here is that the Father loves the Son NOT because of what he has done – but because of who he is.

Jesus’ real ministry has yet to begin – and it’s that bedrock of divine love that will enable him to see it through.

It’s because Jesus is loved from before the foundation of the world, that he can withstand the isolation of the desert wilderness, that he dares to console the outcasts, to challenge the religious authorities, to endure the shame and agony of the Cross.

He knows who he is and that he is precious in God’s eyes –  and that no matter how hostile the stares of others, nothing will change that fact. “You are my Son, the beloved.”

I’ve hinted that the same reassurance is intended for us, the readers of the Gospels, as well – and if we’re not so sure about that – perhaps Isaiah’s perspective on God can help us: the God who says “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you: I have called you by name, you are mine. You are precious in my sight, and honoured, and I love you. Do not fear for I am with you.”

Just as at the Baptism of Christ, then, Isaiah presents to us a vision of God, who loves us – NOT because of the wonderful deeds we may have done, NOT even because of the quality of our faith – but because He has formed us and knows exactly who we are – has always known us – and, even so, yearns for us to be his.

We don’t have to earn his forgiveness – He has redeemed us.

We don’t have to earn his love – just to accept it.

That unbidden, undeserved love does not give us license just to do whatever we choose, nor is it an excuse just to do nothing with our lives.

God calls us by name – he has plans for us.

For our families – for all whom we love – we find strength and patience to bear many things, to risk many things, that are not obviously in our own interests, but which, instinctively, we know are the right things to do. That same instinct, that same resilience, is part of our proper response to God’s love.

As we continue to step into this new year, then,  with all the possibilities and uncertainties that it will bring, may we do so trusting that it is US whom God calls “beloved” – and that he will journey with us through whatever lies ahead.

From a Sermon preached at a shared Eucharist with Wilton Baptist Church – during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity 

It is remarkably easy for our messages to get mangled somewhere in transmission.

One of the curses of email is that’s it very easy to write a message, meaning one thing, only for the person or persons receiving it to miss the nuance and read something completely different.

And if messages are being passed from person to person to person – there’s plenty of scope for subtle re-workings, so that by the end of the chain, the message is barely recognisable.

So, what about the message of the Gospel – what about the story of our faith? How on earth do we know that our version hasn’t been tweaked beyond all recognition since the time of the first Disciples of Christ?

Well, in short we don’t! That IS one of our biggest challenges – and we shouldn’t be surprised that there are so many different versions – so many different opinions with the Church.  Christian people have different perspectives, different backgrounds and different personalities – they instinctively react in different ways and are naturally attracted to different aspects of the Faith, and turned off by others.

So we are left with a mixture of messages, all overlapping but not always agreeing.

As a result, all of us have to engage with the process of sifting the evidence, always trying to detect human error and, by God’s grace, seeing beyond it the truth of the Gospel.

But, of course, the way we set about doing that depends on just the same things – the same personality traits – that have led to the disagreements in the first place.

When I was studying for ordination there was a mix of students from the Anglicans, Methodist and United Reform Churches – and it was always fascinating watching the way that other trainee ministers went about things.

Among that mix, there were those – sporting bracelets with “What Would Jesus Do?”  – who liked to pronounce that “If Jesus was here with us now, he’d be telling us to do this”

– and there were others who’d answer “Actually, Jesus IS here with us now, and I firmly believe he’s telling us THIS.”

And naturally the “this” that Jesus was allegedly saying was wildly different.

There were some who knew their Scriptures forwards, backwards and inside out – who would turn to the Epistles of Paul and the Acts of the Apostles to demonstrate how early Christians lived, arguing that we should model our lives on theirs.

Then there were others who liked to read the works of the early Church Fathers, and the traditions and teaching of the early, institutional Church – arguing that their teaching was timeless and we really ought to be living like THEM.

On top of all that, there were those who wanted the reassurance of some clear, authoritative teaching from the Church of today.

So some students waded through the encyclicals of Pope John Paul and the incoming Pope Benedict for enlightenment. Whereas some of the  Methodists and URCs – who had no time for bishops, let alone any Pope –  took very seriously the statements of their own church councils.

Two distinct groups of students then, with totally different perspectives, but for all of whom obedience to the teaching of the Church was central to their faith.

So what do we make of all that?

We can’t escape the fact that, even though we’re all trying to work out the real message of the Gospel; even when we use the same methods to do it – somehow we still manage to end up with wildly different conclusions.

And we can either despair of that fact, as an organisational disaster OR we can learn to rejoice in the rich and complex diversity of the human family.

If we, as Christian people, are going to take the message of salvation into all the world – with all the cultural challenges that involves – then perhaps, after all, it is a blessing that the people of God are such a motley crew!

Yes – of course – where there is diversity there is plenty of room for confusion – for more than one message to be in circulation. But perhaps that very diversity can teach us proper humility and respect – for each other and for God. If any of us presume to know the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth –  then I think we presume too much.

There IS only ONE who knows the full truth of the Gospel – the one who spoke the Word – God himself.

From all that I want to make two suggestions: firstly that our ability – as fellow Christians in this place –  to draw people to Christ, or our failure to do so, is more about the attractiveness of our faith – the way we LIVE the Gospel – than it is about the slickness of the message we offer verbally.

There’s nothing more off-putting than watching someone with whom we disagree fervently trying to ram home their own point of view: whereas seeing that same person acting in generous love towards another person is profoundly moving and uplifting.

And we are engaged in that active witness – whether it be Coffee Corner here or Lunch with Friends at the Baptist Church, our combined “Open the Book” team in school, or any of a range of community groups – I think there is a real sense that God’s love IS being shown through us, among us and between us!

Secondly, what do we make of the notion of Christian Unity?

We are all a long way from being one Church – one institution singing from the same hymn sheet – but actually I’m not sure that really matters.

Far more important that we find a unity of purpose –  that we recognise each other as sharing in the same mission – to make Christ known in this place, and throughout the world.

Last weekend we had a glimpse of what that kind of unity might look like.

A group of us, from a wide variety of churches, drew together more than 30 young people – mostly secondary school pupils. Both we, and they, brought with to the gathering a huge variation in belief and preferred worship styles.

But actually none of that mattered – as we all just on with the business of enjoying each other’s company and celebrating the faith which does unite us.

We laughed together, prayed together, reflected together – and, when it came to lighting fires to cook our tea, I think we all prayed again even harder!

It was an utterly exhausting day! And yet, it was also a real sign of hope for the churches of our area. Some of those teenagers are decidedly passionate and, dare I say, inflexible in their beliefs. And so if THEY can just get over it and get on with one another, then surely their elders can do the same.

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon us all, because he has anointed us to bring good news” here and now.

 Let us work together in that common cause where we can, and alongside each other where we can’t. And let us try to keep each other in our prayers – and not just in this one week of the year.

Lord God, we thank you
For calling us into the company
Of those who trust in Christ
And seek to obey his will.
May your Spirit guide and strengthen us
In mission and service to your world;
For we are strangers no longer
But pilgrims together on the way to your Kingdom
Amen.

Sermon preached at Midnight Mass, Christmas Eve 2015

Readings: Hebrews 1: 1-12,    John 1: 1-14

One of the success stories of our time seems to be that of the Christmas Market.  A couple of years ago I stood here (n church) and spoke, rather disparagingly, of Salisbury’s newest shed store – referring to the scatter of stalls in the Market Square. But since then Salisbury’s Christmas Market attracted a growing clientele – and similar markets have sprung up in other towns and retail centres.

It was to one of the larger Markets – just outside Winchester Cathedral – that I went, with my wife, for a pre-Christmas “escape” – a day off well away from the temptations of work emails, cold callers and the burgeoning lists of things “to do”.

The first stall that we stopped at was selling some glorious, citrus-scented Christmas ornaments: a promising start.

And then we moved to one filled with beautifully crafted pewter ornaments and trinkets.  The only thing was, I had a nagging feeling there was something strangely familiar about the stallholder – and after about 5 minutes of skirting round each other we’d finally worked out why: not only was this particular company based in Wilton, but the man in question will be getting married here in 2017!  So much for the escape!

For me, the attraction of the Markets is as much about those incidental, unexpected conversations, as it is about the wares on offer.  And, at Winchester, the most fascinating exchange was with a family of Palestinian Christians, from Bethlehem, who were selling decorations and religious artefacts fashioned from Olive wood.

There were some beautiful things – but what impressed me most was the ease with which they spoke about themselves – NOT as members of one church or another, but as Christian people. Somehow their gentle manner and the way in which they spoke about their work, seemed to communicate a faith that was somehow a natural, uncomplicated part of their identity.

And it seemed that what made this family “Christian people” in – the fullest sense – was their sense of being immersed in the stories of Jesus’s life – and of the Bible as a whole – finding in them messages of hope and taking them to heart.

And perhaps, it’s that sense of being part of the ongoing story of faith – the story of God’ people – that enables them to live as Christians in a fairly hostile environment.

This year, the Mayor of Bethlehem, – who rejoices in the name of Vera Baboun – has ordered that Christmas celebrations be scaled back. Following weeks of violence there, which has seen 144 people killed, racial and religious tensions, combined with a dire economy, leave little room for optimism – and yet, somehow, hope still remains among the Christian minority.

For them the story of Christ’s birth, death and resurrection IS the story of hope.

That story of faith reaches it’s a climax in the incarnation –  God becoming flesh in the person of the infant Jesus.

“Long ago”, the author of Hebrews tells us, “God spoke to us through the prophets” – but now, through the Word made flesh, we are drawn into dialogue with God himself:  Jesus is not just another messenger, but the actual, physical presence of God among us. This helpless infant is God the Son, through whom the world was made, by whom the world is sustained and whose second coming will bring the world to its fulfilment.

Like Hebrews, St John’s gospel starts with the creation –  but the focus here is on God’s nature: that nature is love, and, through the birth of Jesus, that great love is poured out into the world to bring us into God’s love.

Both tonight’s readings are full of hope and rich in beautiful imagery – the majestic God, the loving, life-giving God – come to us in the humility of the child in the manger.

It IS an amazing story. But is it true?

Can we square all this rhetorical beauty with the cold reality of the war-torn, ravaged world we live in? We may recognise the NEED for a Prince of Peace, for a God of Love – but wonder where on earth he is to be found.

Again, the author of John’s gospel is there ahead of us:

“the world came into being through him;  yet the world did not know him – his own people did not accept him.”

Jesus has come into the world and shown us how to live – Jesus has brought into the world the light of life.

But, like any Christmas gift, we have to choose to accept him – to make use of what he offers.

God allows us the option of turning away – of living in the darkness – ignoring the reason for our existence.

We can live our lives as if the creation had never happened, as if the formlessness and hopelessness of the time before Christ is still all there is – and many people DO just that.

We see the fruits of that “turning away” from God in the selfish destruction of the planet – in the aggressive posturing for power – in the darkness of depression – in the lack of purpose that blights so much of our human family today.

And yet – the light remains – even among the troubled peoples of Palestine – even among the devastated communities of Syria.

Surely then, it is not too dim for US to see?

We CAN all choose to receive the Christ child, who is God – the only source of life – we can choose to step into our proper place as children of God.

That is the light of hope which Jesus has brought into the world – and that light has NOT been overcome.

That light shines on – through our darkness – to help us see our way, to help us recognise the life giving power and love of God – displayed in the manger.

We have to choose to pick up the baby, and to nurture the life that we see in him.

For his life IS our life – through him our lives can be transformed and filled with the light of life.

God chooses to share his life with us – God has chosen to send his Son – to bring the world back into his life and love.

And now God invites us, to receive him –  to choose to live out the story of our faith –  so that our lives reflect the glory of God, so that we might bring joy and hope to those around us and play our part in making “peace on earth” a reality.

What are you waiting for?

Sermon preached on Advent Sunday 2015

(Texts Jeremiah 33: 14-16 and Luke 21: 25-36)

 I started work on this sermon with a clear vision in mind – one which was as vivid as today’s gospel account and only slightly less formidable!

It was a vision not of the Son of man, however, but of the actress Stephanie Cole and her character “Diana” from the 1990s series “Waiting for God”.

In that series Diana is a rather feisty resident of Golden Acres retirement home who, alongside her neighbour – the slightly befuddled Tom – flatly refuses to grow old gracefully. And they seem to spend every waking hour causing chaos both for their families and the home’s rather proscriptive management team.

Diana is the archetypal maiden aunt – who speaks her mind without restraint – who finds fault where others might turn a blind eye – and who, underneath a very stern exterior, has a rather childish sense of fun.

And so I had in mind both Diana, and the title of the series – “Waiting for God” – as I turned my thoughts to the beginning of Advent.

We are then entering the season of “waiting” – waiting for the coming of “God with us”.

Both our readings seem to be pointing us forwards –and with a certain sense of urgency. What’s rather odd is that Jeremiah and Luke seem to have swapped places!

Jeremiah – seems to spend most of his time moaning, alienated from his people in order to proclaim God’s judgement on them: those of us who periodically wade through the book of Jeremiah at Morning Prayer can testify that he’s hardly an uplifting read.

And yet here – from chapter 33 – there’s a lovely little snippet – full of hope and God’s reassurance that if the people wait patiently for him they will be restored: “Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.” A wonderful vision that is all the more compelling from the lips of Jeremiah – the prophet of doom.

But then what is Luke up to?

Luke normally gives us nice things to read – it’s Luke who gives us Mary’s song of praise, the Magnificat, as the birth of Jesus is announced to her – it’s Luke who gives us the detail of the Nativity – shepherds with their flocks, the stable and manger for the new-born messiah.

So, again, it’s a bit of a shock to find a rather different tone in today’s reading – it’s almost as if he’s making up Jeremiah’s light-heartedness!

Here Luke is also pointing forward to something new – but with dire warnings along the way.

At the very least, there’s a sense that – even as we await Christ’s coming again – it’s more like waiting for Diana, the maiden aunt, who may well upbraid us publicly for our sloppy appearance, or any other number of failings, rather than awaiting an old friend whose appearance will immediately fill our hearts with joy.

You’ve probably seen – on fridge magnets, or postcards and similar places – the phrase “Jesus is coming – look busy!” And I think there’s a hint of that in Luke’s reading. Both Jeremiah and Luke seem to be urging us to be on the lookout – to be alert to what is going on around us – and to know what or whom it is that we are waiting for.

Luke uses the image of the fig tree to demonstrate the way we notice the changing of the seasons and, by analogy, urges us to learn to read the signs of the times –  AND the signs of God’s coming kingdom.

We are not to be terrified by events – appalling though they may be – because what lies beyond will be unimaginably better than now. But we do need to be ready.

“Be alert at all time”, says Luke, “praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”

So, in this season of “waiting for God”, how DO we prepare ourselves for his arrival??

On one level it may be rather like awaiting our sternest maiden aunt – we may attend to those things in our lives that we know are most likely to draw critical comment, to minimise the embarrassment of meeting. We want to “appear” before Christ in the best light possible.

And we might also want to refresh our memories as to what it is we’re looking for: it would not go down too well with Aunt Diana if we turned up at the station to meet her off the train, only to fail to recognise her on the platform.

And Luke seems to ask how sure we are that we will recognise the Son of Man when he comes again – and whether we NOW recognise what God is up to in our midst?

So, although we may not relish the prospect, we do need to engage with the less comforting passages of scripture, as well as the “fluffy tales” of Christmas – in order to remind ourselves of Christ’s teachings – of the “kingdom values” we are meant to be living out and looking out for in our communities now – so that we can prepare ourselves for the time when we will stand before the Son of man.

We’re used to the notion of Lenten resolutions – preparing for Easter by a season of restraint or of active preparation. Could we then use Advent in a similar way to prepare ourselves more methodically?

Perhaps we might spend a few minutes each day reading from scripture – a Psalm a day, or stepping through a particular Gospel – or even Jeremiah!

We might keep a particular time of prayer during each day (over and above what we normally do) – to help sharpen our senses.

Or, if you are accustomed to lighting an advent candle each day – why not spend 5 minutes just sitting and watching it burn? And as you gaze at the flame – try to “be still in the presence of the Lord” (to borrow a phrase from the Psalms).

Whatever might work best for you, perhaps we can share a common Advent resolution to “be alert”, to look beyond ourselves – to the things that lie ahead for us – and to try to become more aware now of God’s presence – surrounding us and within us.

Sermon preached on “Remembrance Sunday”

Recently , I found myself engaged in a conversation about the way that certain songs, or pieces of music, can become associated in our own minds with a particular time or place. It may only need a few bars of music, or a specific phrase to be sung, and we are plunged back ten, twenty thirty years – and in our minds eye we’re transported to another time and place – among the sights and sounds and possibly even the smell – of a long-forgotten episode in our lives. For a short time, those sensations are incredibly vivid and real.

For me, one such “trigger” is the phrase we often hear at Remembrance services – “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends”.

I first came across those words, as a 17 year-old, singing with a scratch choir of students in the Chapel of Oundle School, near Peterborough. It’s a large and impressive Chapel, built in 1921 as a memorial to those killed in World War 1.

As with our parish church, there is an apse – a curved wall – behind the Altar.  And, unlike the building here, there is beyond the apse an “ambulatory” – a corridor – curving round below the level of the high windows, from one side of the chapel to the other.

And it’s to that place that MY mind travels as soon as I hear the phrase “Greater love hath no man than this”.

What I remember most is a series of colourful stained glass windows, showing the Seven Ages of Man – travelling through from Infancy – a bonny baby sitting on a mat – to old age (described on the final window as “the second childishness”).

Along the way there are some lovely, humorous touches: in the second window, “the schoolboy” is shown – trudging reluctantly to class, with text books scrumpled under one arm and hands firmly in pockets. The 6th age, by contrast, shows a rather self-important looking school master – clutching a sheet of geometry homework, with several crossings out and corrections on it … still definitely in red ink (not allowed these days!).

In between the windows, however, there is something of a contrast: etched on the pale stone are three large black crosses, each with golden rays radiating from the centre. And, beneath the arms of each cross, are the names of old boys of the school who didn’t make it through the Great War – along with their faded photographs.

I think what hit me at the time, and what stays with me even now, is that peculiar blend of colour and beauty and gentle humour, alongside the starkness of that cold, dark stone memorial – and the reality that lay behind it.

It gives the impression of mixed emotions – of tremendous pride AND profound regret – a sense that somehow the natural order of things had been disrupted.

It serves as a reminder that, among the proud young men of Oundle School, there were some who experienced perhaps the first four “ages of man” – infant, schoolboy, lover and soldier – but knew no more of life than that.

In the setting of a school, surrounded by the vibrancy and optimism of youth, the words “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” take on a particular significance and poignancy.

On one level, of course, those words actually have nothing at all to do with Oundle School, or with the Great War or with any other conflict.

They were first written in St. John’s Gospel, where Jesus is preparing his friends for his own death.  Contained within a passage about love – those familiar words seem to be concerned with revealing the depth of Jesus’ love for his friends and the depth of God’s love for his people.

And they certainly provide no mandate either for bloodlust – or for the cult of martyrdom that exists today among some religious fanatics – the suicide bombers and others who imagine that acts of terrorism somehow promote the will of God.  Jesus commanded his friends to love, not hate.

In appropriating those words, and associating them with those who’ve died in war – we are using them for a very different purpose from that intended by the person who first wrote them down, sometime in the first century AD.

But then that kind of “appropriation” – of relating the Scriptures to our own context – is a natural part of our Christian tradition, and especially in relation to Jesus himself:  It IS in trying to make sense of his life that we start to make sense of our own.

By exploring the meaning of Jesus’ words and actions, and the real human emotions that he grappled with, we begin to recognise shadows of our own humanity – and the means to cope with the challenges that WE face.

Jesus died for his friends, but he taught them to live for each other.

And – for most of us at least – it’s that kind of sacrificial living – in a way that puts the welfare of the whole community ahead of our own personal ambitions – that we need to embrace if we are to preserve the peace which has been so dearly bought.

Even as we give thanks for 70 years of peace, we sense that there are new challenges for us to meet. Recent events in Mogadishu and Egypt, and the ongoing tensions in Syria and Sudan and elsewhere, the huge number of refugees forced to flee their war-torn homes, all serve to remind us that there are real and present threats to that peace.

If we are going to meet those challenges, then we need to be ready to show support for our armed forces in confronting those who now seek to undermine the cause of peace.

If we are going to meet those challenges, then all of us need to be resolved to work across differences of religious or political outlook – to escape the cycle of greed and the struggle for power over others, that keep the human race divided.

All of us need to be alert to the circumstances that allow individuals, or groups within our own nation to become alienated from mainstream society – all of us need to be aware of the tensions and inequalities that lead to strife between nations – and to do whatever we can to bring about a more stable situation.

Even today, then, we need to recount our tales of heroism – whether they be about the young men of Oundle School, or the men commemorated on our War Memorial outside, or anyone else.

We need to remember those who overcame their fears – to confront the evils of their day – so that we might be encouraged to believe that it is possible for us to do so today.

We need to remember the stories not just of the men who died, but also of their wives or girlfriends, their parents and families, their neighbours and their school-friends.

We need to remember the stories of those who survived war, but whose lives were shattered.

And we need to remember the stories of those who “gave their lives” in other ways – working tirelessly to rebuild those shattered lives and to create a better future, not only for their friends, but for the generations to come.

As we remember them all, and their experiences of the past, they may yet teach us how to live for tomorrow.

Sermon preached on “Mayor’s Sunday”, 13^th September.

(Based on Philippians 2: 6-11 and John 3: 13-17)

Anyone near the town centre on Friday afternoon, MAY have noticed our church-bells ringing – ringing, in fact, for a little under 3 hours: I know, I Iive next door!!

A highly expert peal of bells was rung in honour of Her Majesty the Queen who, after 63 years on the throne, has now overtaken great-great granny, as the longest reigning monarch in British history. And, although her long reign has seen changes in society, so rapid and dramatic as to be unimaginable 63 years ago, throughout it all she seems to have maintained a steady sense of purpose and commitment.

Many of us are familiar by now with a certain clip from the speech she gave on her 21st birthday:  “I declare before you all that my whole life whether it be long or short shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong. “                                                                                                                         While many of us may have no personal recollection of belonging to that great imperial family, I think the majority of people would recognise that she has tried to live out that noble statement of service, of duty, ever since.

But if the words “service” and “duty” may trip off the tongue happily enough, I want to suggest two other words that we might apply to the Queen’s reign and to the notions of public service, and “Christian service”.

Our readings today attribute two characteristics to Christ’s own ministry – “sacrifice and “humility”. And I want to suggest that there are shades of that same self-offering – of sacrifice and humility – in the life of our monarch, and of others in public life.

For all those in the public eye, the notion of a private life is a luxury that will be afforded very rarely. Those who serve in public office do so at considerable cost, not only to themselves but to their families.

And the Royal family is no exception – with very little chance to escape the lenses of the media, very little time to do their own thing, and absolutely no chance of escaping the carping criticisms of others or of defending themselves against such criticisms.

The Queen herself, with an intelligent mind and vast experience of public life, studiously keeps her opinions to herself when at times she must be itching to really speak her mind!

Prince Philip – is notably LESS cautious in his speech!

But for him, supporting his wife as our monarch meant the sacrifice of a promising career in the Royal Navy, and all that might have been for him.

And there also is an element of humility in their willingness to undertake so many public engagements: Despite the shy awkwardness evident in that clip from the Queen’s 21^st birthday speech – she now engages quite naturally with a much broader spectrum of society.

In an image conscious, status conscious age – she sits light to the elevated status that she might assume – exemplifying instead sacrificial duty and humble service.

And so to public life more generally and to the life of our community here.

We’re very fortunate to have as our Mayor someone who shows remarkable commitment to this community and a real understanding of our varying needs. Phil works tirelessly – and has demonstrated that he is quite prepared to get his OWN hands dirty whether that be filling sandbags or reading the riot act to those supposedly resurfacing the road last summer!

We’re very fortunate that he has been willing to serve and serve again in that role – and, although that has been wonderful for us, we need to remember that that willingness is not without cost – the sacrifice of personal and family time.

And if public service inevitably involves personal sacrifice, then I think there is an equally significant element of humility in being prepared to share the task with others.

Perhaps because the personal cost is high it’s easy for those in office to demand recognition – to protect their own little sphere of influence in order to appear even more significant – to ensure public status.

And yet we achieve so much more when we work together and cooperate across different strands of our common life.

Here in Wilton right now, we have a professionally run Youth Centre purely because Church and Town Council worked together to make it happen – the Church’s Educational Trust providing the staff, the Council securing the building for them.

It would have been easy for the Church to protect its own resources for more selfish projects, it would have been easy for the Council to be wary of a faith group leaping in to rescue a secular provision – but neither of those issues arose. All of us could clearly see that the issue wasn’t about us – we simply had to address the need that had arisen and get on and work through it together.

And there’s a strong mandate for that approach in our Scripture readings: It was for the life of this sometimes messy and murky world that Christ came and died and rose again.

And that life is not about “us” as individuals, it is about ALL of us as sharing a common humanity – all of us as children of God. And that guiding principle needs to govern both our public policies and our personal actions.

There’ve been two other major items in the public eye this week – the Refugee crisis and the Assisted Dying Bill.

I can’t deal properly with either of those things just now – but I’ll simply reflect that both are complex and incredibly emotive subjects.  And so, more than ever, it is vital that we enable ALL those with experience and insight on either issue to contribute to whatever decisions are made, whatever action is taken.

Knowing that we need to do something doesn’t make it easy to see what that might be. And we all need to see beyond our pre-formed ideas or knee-jerk reactions if we are to understand the full consequences and do what is right for all concerned.

I want to end, where I began, with Her Majesty the Queen.

Despite the constantly shifting backdrop to her reign, somehow she has remained – determined and absolutely true to that early pledge of service.

And I think one key reason for that resilience is that she is not simply a Head of State.

At her coronation she was anointed as a Christian monarch, marked out and symbolically strengthened by God for her unique role for life.  And that ideal is something that I think she has taken with utter seriousness and had always sought to live up to.

And so perhaps another pointer for all of us.

Just as our common humanity demands the humility to work with others, for the sake of the common good, so our common status as children of God demands that we sacrifice our proud notions of status and self-determination and try instead to recognise where He is leading us.

Without God’s blessing our work is in vain – but if we entrust all our work, however menial or grand, to God’s guidance, if we dedicate our own lives to the service of God and to our neighbours, then we can and will continue Christ’s saving work of transforming the world.