Field of Dreams: if you build it, they will come!

Christmas Midnight
January 4, 2017, 3:08 pm
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Sermon preached at All Hallows, Easton

Here in this darkened church, at this midnight hour, we do not need many words, we simply need silence to keep watch and to wonder. Christ is being born. God is entering the world he made, as one of its inhabitants. When the ancient Hebrews thought about the creation of the world, they depicted God as building himself a house, a Temple, in which he might take his rest. This is the moment when he does so, or should we say: that was the moment, more than two thousand years ago, when he did so? For God, all times are the same; it is only we who have to take reality one moment at a time journeying on towards our entrance into eternity.

In the days of Herod the king, Jesus was born at Bethlehem in Judaea. Caesar Augustus had ordered a census, and a poor carpenter and his wife were forced to travel from Nazareth where they lived, to the little town from which Joseph’s ancestors had come. Joseph the poor carpenter was himself a descendant of kings, so he must register in the city of David called Beth-lehem (a Hebrew word meaning “house of bread”). With him is his wife Mary, who is in the last stages of pregnancy.

Only Joseph and Mary know that the child she bears within her is the Messiah, the true King of Israel. It must have struck them as providential that the kings of the earth had, all unknowingly, conspired to ensure that the Son of David would be born in the town of David. Yet when they arrived, there was no room for them in the inn – symbolic of the way the world, then and now, fails to welcome its Saviour. They find shelter in a cave (I’ve been there) where animals were stabled. There Jesus was born, and tucked up not in a cot but in a manger.

Out in the fields below the town, still called the shepherds’ field, herdsmen were watching over their flocks. To them, and not to kings, the angel announces the birth. Luke says, “The glory of the Lord shone round about them.” In the Old Testament, the Glory of the Lord was the outward sign of his presence, when he dwelt in the Tabernacle in the desert, and in the Temple of Solomon. Now we have the sign that God is coming to dwell in the world he has made, of which Tabernacle and Temple were just images. And the immediate and particular dwelling place will be found in a new-born baby, wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.

We are keeping watch tonight, in celebration of that birth two thousand years ago, but also in celebration of God’s continual dwelling in the world. We live from moment to moment, constantly repeating and constantly trying to hold on to the important moments of our lives. Each time we come to Mass, each time we hear the priest repeat the words, “This is my Body, this is my Blood,” we share in the mystery of Emmanuel, God with us. This darkened church, tonight, is Beth-lehem, the House of Bread, the Bread of Life. In the Sacrament, Christ becomes truly present, and remains present as long as the outward signs endure – bread, the most basic food to sustain life, and wine the drink of celebration and fellowship.

Welcome Jesus tonight, and keep him with you. Don’t say, “Lord, there isn’t room in the main part of my life for you, it is full of so many other things, but I do have a little outhouse round the back of my life, and if I’m not too busy I’ll come and say hello sometimes.” Make room for Jesus right at the heart of your life. Make this communion the heart of your life.


Advent 4. St Joseph
December 23, 2016, 4:12 pm
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A sermon prepared but not preached.

A few years ago, the BBC showed a series for Holy Week called The Passion. It wasn’t entirely satisfactory, I thought but it had its moments, especially in scenes involving the wonderful Penelope Wilton, an actress I much admire, as Mary. There was a scene in the first episode – needless to say not entirely as in the Gospels – when Mary had arrived from Nazareth to see Jesus, and he goes out of the house to speak to her privately. She is concerned for him, naturally, and he gives her (if I may so put it with reverence, but this is a rather wishy-washy Jesus) something rather bland about trusting God. Mary’s reply is quite astringent. “Don’t try to teach me about trusting God,” she says in effect. And then she says, “What if Joseph had said no? What if he had refused to marry me?”

To me, a whole new dimension of the story opened up. The real feelings of a teenager, finding herself unexpectedly pregnant as the result of divine intervention. Trust God? OK, I’ll trust God – but, God, you’re taking a lot for granted . What about Joseph? Supposing he doesn’t trust God? He’s only human, he’ll only have my word about what has happened. Suppose he doesn’t believe me?

Of course, Joseph does what God requires of him. In St Matthew’s Gospel, the first adjective applied to Joseph is “just”, or “righteous”. The just or righteous man is someone whose principle concern is to do what is right; and that means to act in accordance with God’s will. In a Jewish context, that means following Torah, the Law, the way of life revealed and commanded by God.  Joseph was “a just man”, and loving Mary as he did, he knew that the right thing was to stick by her, to look after her, no matter what others might think or say. God knew that Joseph would not say no, just as he knew that Mary would not say no. Not because they were forced to, but because of all the worlds he might have made, he chose to make the one in which both Mary and Joseph said yes, freely and of their own accord. God knew, but Mary and Joseph did not know. They had to believe, to trust.

Then the angel addresses him as “son of David.” The only other person in the New Testament given this title is the Messiah himself. Joseph is put in the line of the shepherd-kings of Israel, even though he is only a humble craftsman. Even though Jesus will not be physically descended from Joseph, he will at the human level receive his royal patrimony through this man. This too is an immense thing.

Finally, Joseph is described (if not called in so many words) obedient. He did what the angel of the Lord had told him to do. Much later, a woman would invoke a blessing on the womb that bore Jesus, the breasts he sucked- in other words, on his mother Mary. Jesus replied, “More blessed those who hear the word of God and keep it.” Joseph heard, and he obeyed. Perhaps this is the most immense thing of all, the well-spring of his righteousness, the expression of his royalty. Joseph is a hero of mine. If I can give away a bit more of my past viewing (and indeed my past reading), he is the Mr J.L.B. Matekoni of the Gospels. Fans of the No 1 Ladies Detective  Agency will know what I mean. He is quiet, kind, loyal, and when necessary capable of real heroism. Joseph is the ideal husband – he knows when to keep his mouth shut and just get on and do what he is told.

Mary, our Lady, is the one human person absolutely essential to God’s plan of salvation. To take flesh and come among us, to be born in order to die, he had to have a mother. That is why we honour Mary as we do. But after her, in concrete reality, Joseph comes next. In the world into which Jesus was born, his holy mother needed a guardian, protector and defender. She needed a husband. Mary was not (as some people nowadays tend to say, a single mother. Joseph was always there, until God called him home. Joseph protected Mary’s good name. Joseph ensured that she got safely to Bethlehem, the place of prophecy for the birth of the Messiah. Joseph took the mother and child safely to Egypt, to escape Herod’s fury. Joseph brought them back safely to Nazareth and supported them all through Jesus’s childhood. Joseph, by his example, taught the Son of God the human meaning of the word “father.”

When Jesus was twelve years old he was lost for three days, before being found in the Temple. Mary applies yet another adjective to Joseph (and to herself): “We have been looking for you anxiously.” The word used is a strong one: “We have been in pain and distress,” or “we have been grieving,” would be closer. Joseph took his responsibilities seriously. For twelve years he had been the guardian of Mary and her Son. Had he now failed in his stewardship? All was well. Jesus himself, having come of age as far as the Law was concerned – bar mitzvah – had learned to distinguish the business of his heavenly Father from that of his beloved foster-father. In a sense, he was saying to Joseph, you have done your work. You have shown me a father’s care. I now know who I am. I see the reality to which your example pointed me. Even so, he went down to Nazareth and continued to be under their authority – Joseph’s as well as Mary’s. How immense was that!

Husbands and fathers could do much worse than take Joseph as their role model. After all, God chose him to be the male role-model for Jesus.


Advent 3
December 16, 2016, 8:24 pm
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Sermon given at All Hallows, Easton, 11th December 2016

“Lo, in the wilderness a voice, ‘Make straight the way,’ is crying.” On this third Sunday of Advent, our focus is on John the Baptist and his message.

John may seem a bit marginal to the Christian Gospel, so it might surprise you to learn that, even thirty years after John’s ministry, St Paul would find people who had heard about John – indeed counted themselves his followers – but who had scarcely even heard of Jesus? Probably they were Jews from far away, who in this crucial year had come on a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to Jerusalem, who had heard John preach and been inspired to seek baptism from him, but had then gone back to their distant homes and never heard much about later events in Judaea, including the execution of someone John had pointed out as the Messiah. And all four  Gospels give a prominent place to John at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry – surely a sign that their readers would know who John was. He was still famous. The Jewish historian Josephus, who lived only a little later, has more to say about John than about Jesus.

But before going further, let’s go back to our first reading, from Isaiah. Isaiah too talks about the wilderness. In the coming Day of the Lord, he says, the wilderness (or desert) will blossom like the richly forested mountains of Lebanon or Carmel, like the fertile vale of Sharon. The world will be changed! The weak will be made strong, the blind will see again, the deaf will hear. The lame will leap and the dumb will sing – it’s not just that they will regain their faculties, but they will be filled with joy. God is going to put right everything that is wrong with the world. Those who have been exiled far away will find a clear road – a King’s Highway, in fact – to return to their homes. Jews of a later age, still oppressed by foreign conquerors, clung on to this promise.

Our second reading is, as it were, an interlude. St James is also writing to a people who are in waiting for God to put the world to rights. Be patient, he says, waiting for the Coming of the Lord. The Judge is not far away, he is standing at the door. In Hebrew, a Judge was not just a legal figure, he was a champion of the weak against the strong, like those called Judges in the Old Testament. But until the Judge comes (he is referring to the return of Christ, of course), his hearers must be patient, like the old prophets who were persecuted for speaking the truth to the great ones of their day.

Now in the Gospel, John the Baptist is precisely in that position. He is in prison for denouncing Herod’s adulterous marriage. While there, he hears rumours of what Jesus is doing. Or rather, he hears about “the deeds of the Christ, of the Messiah.” He is inspired to send some of his followers, who evidently could visit him in prison, and who may have been more puzzled by Jesus than John himself was – he sends them to ask, “Are you He who is to come?” That in itself is asking, “Are you the Messiah?” Now this was a very leading question! A very dangerous question to ask in public! Herod was jealous of his authority – that is why John was shut up – and certainly would tolerate no rival King, which a Messiah was bound to be. Jesus therefore does not say simply, “Yes.” He tells the questioners to report what they see: the blind receive their sight, the deaf hear, the lame walk and so on. In other words, Isaiah’s prophecy is being fulfilled under their very eyes!

While we wait for the Coming of the Lord, people will look at us, at our little community – even at All Hallows – and ask, what are your credentials as People of the Messiah? Are people’s spiritual eyes being opened to see the wonders of God? Are their ears being opened to hear the Good News? Are we still spiritually lame, or leaping for joy? Are our mouths dumb, or singing the praises of our God? Are we marked out by the “deeds of the Messiah,” or must they go looking somewhere else?

Advent 1
December 16, 2016, 8:21 pm
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Sermon given at All Hallows, Easton, 31st November 2016

Well, here we are again, beginning the Church’s year with Advent Sunday! My favourite season, I think, full of hope and anticipation of Christmas- with, of course, lots of preparation-work t do for that great Festival

In a way, though, Advent marks both a beginning and an end. The last few weeks, from All Saints through to Christ the King, have looked to the future, to the wonderful day when our Lord Jesus Christ will return in glory, and inaugurate a new heaven and a new earth. A new earth! We easily forget that. Although (as we say) we hope to go to heaven when we die, meaning by heaven the place where God is – St Paul prefers to speak of going to be with the Lord – the point is that when Jesus returns, we shall return with him. This creation will be renewed, transformed, not abolished

Advent is concerned as much with praying for our Lord’s coming again, as with preparing to celebrate his birth “long time ago, in Bethlehem.” The Church has considered this as a time to reflect on what are called “The Last Things” – death, judgement, hell and heaven – although in the light of what I have said they might also be regarded as First Things, the beginnings of the Age to Come

I spoke of death, and the Christian attitude to it, on the Sunday following All Souls’ Day. Ever since our Lord himself passed through death, there has been no reason for us, his disciples and friends, to fear it. We are merely following him, going to be more nearly with him (though he is always with us).

Judgement is perhaps something we ought to think of with more trepidation, but only as, when we were young, we faced examinations at school. Provided we had worked hard during term, there was no real reason to be afraid, but we still had nerves. The same is true when we have to make a public appearance before a lot of strangers. “We believe that he will come again  in glory, to judge the living and the dead.” Judgement will mean that he exposes the truth, which is so often concealed now. Lies and propaganda will be shown up for what they are, “the mighty will be put down from their seats,” and the humble and meek will be exalted. We trust, not in ourselves and in our own merits, but in his manifold and great mercies. We are his friends, not simply to be judged, but to be associated with him in passing judgement

Hell – well, that’s an unfashionable topic! But we need to have a proper understanding of it. Have you noticed that, in the great parable of judgement in St Matthew’s Gospel, when the King comes to pass sentence on those who have fed the hungry, clothed the naked etc. (or have failed to do so), this serving (or failing to serve) the King himself, he says to the first group, “Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of the world.” The kingdom is prepared for US. But he says to the wicked, “Depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.” Hell was not prepared for human beings, but evil spirits. The kingdom is for those who love God with all their heart and soul; hell is for those who refuse to love, who fill their hearts with hate and selfishness. No-one is “sent” there against there will. They go there because they cannot bear to live in love and charity with others. Hell is inside them

And heaven? Well, I supposed I’ve already answered that. It is the state in which we accept and reciprocate the love God has for us, in which we rejoice in the company of those who love God and love us, and whom we love. What more do we need to know about it

To show his love for us, God took human form and was born on earth. Not in a royal palace, surrounded by luxury, but in a stable, entrusting himself to the care of his pure and humble mother, and her loving and loyal husband Joseph. In just four weeks time we shall celebrate that stupendous event, which the high and mighty do not and cannot appreciate. God is love, not simply power (though he is Almighty). Eight months ago we celebrated the moment when he first took human nature in the shelter of the Virgin’s womb. Week after week he grew towards the moment of birth. Soon he will emerge into the light, who is himself the Light of the world. He will experience infancy, childhood and adolescence. He will know hunger and thirst, cold and pain. In manhood he will set out on a journey that will bring him to the Cross, to death and to resurrection. Yes, this season marks a beginning, and looks to an ending. But that end will also be a new beginning

O, come quickly! O, come quickly! O, come quickly! Come, Lord, come!

Remembrance 2016
November 26, 2016, 6:50 pm
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A sermon preached at All Hallows Easton, November 13, 2016

When this annual Act of Remembrance, which we shall take part in at the end of Mass, was started nearly a hundred years ago, people were actually remembering those that they really remembered and grieved for – sons, fathers, uncles, brothers, husbands, fiancés. People they had known personally, who had gone out to France and died on the Somme or elsewhere. We can’t do that. No-one still alive can do that. Even if they are still living, they would have been too small to recall anyone personally. That is nearly true of the Second World War too. You would have to be older than me. My own father fortunately survived, though he might well not have done, but if he had been killed I would have scarcely any memory of him now. You have to be some way older than me to do that.

So we are only remembering at second hand. Remembering things we have been told, remembering the fact that certain things happened. But from our own personal experience we remember that these sort of things are still going on. The Great War To End All War did not do so. Because the peace was mishandled, the seeds were sown for a second war, and since then, in my lifetime, I have known wars in Korea, in Viet-Nam, in Iraq, and even now in Syria and Iraq. To say nothing of civil wars in all sorts of places. Human beings do not seem to know how to live at peace with one another.

Our focus today, if our Act of Remembrance is to mean anything, must be on prayer for peace. Prayer that men and women find some other way to settle their differences than by violence and warfare. We still remember the human cost of failing to do so. Not just the soldiers, sailors and airmen from this country or our allies who paid the price with their lives, but those of our enemies too. As Christians, we still count them as brothers and sisters. And the millions of civilians caught up in conflict, unable to escape. We remember them.

I will be brief. If possible, I like our Act of Remembrance to be as near as possible at the eleventh hour. Armistice Day itself was on Friday. Acts of Remembrance took place in this city and throughout the land, to say nothing of other countries, at the Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month. There is significance in this. It reminds us that, though we pray to God for salvation, that salvation may only come at the eleventh hour, when all human hope has been lost. Peace does not come about by merely human effort- history proves that. It is the gift of God, be prayed for and received with humility. One of our Lord’s great titles is Prince of Peace. Let us ask him to send down upon this troubled world the great gift of peace.

A belated sermon: All Hallows
November 26, 2016, 6:44 pm
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Third Sunday before Advent (Trinity 24) 2016-11-6

2 Thess 2.1-5, 13-17; Luke 20.27-38

(This sermon was preached at All Hallows, Easton, especially to the children.)

What is this? A pumpkin
Anything special about it? It has a face carved into it.
When do we see this sort of Pumpkin? At Hallowe’en.
When was that? Last Monday
Anybody go trick or treating? (I had three lots of trick or treaters calling)

So what is Hallowe’en all about? It is the day or rather the evening) before All Saints’ Day, sometimes called All Hallows (like our church)
Do you know what the day AFTER All Hallows is called? It is called All Souls Day.
This is the day when Christians especially remember family members and others who have died.

It is very natural to be sad when someone you love dies. But the great Apostle Saint Paul, in one of his letters, tells us that, although we may be sad, we should not be without hope. Every Sunday, we all stand up in Church and say, “We look forward to the Resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.”

Unlike some other people, we know that, if we follow Jesus and trust in him, when we die we go to be with him; and just as he rose from the dead on Easter Day, he has promised the same for us when he comes back to set the whole world to rights.

In today’s Gospel story, Jesus was arguing with people who didn’t believe this, who thought the whole idea was ridiculous, and wanted to make it look ridiculous. Jesus told them that they were WRONG. No-one dies in God’s eyes, but when in our eyes they pass away, they are safe with him. And when Jesus returns, they will return with him- WE will return with him.

To people who don’t believe and trust in Jesus, dying seems frightening and terrible. It is called “The Last Enemy”. But Jesus is stronger than death itself, he is alive for ever.

And that (partly) is why we have Hallowe’en, with witches and skeletons and all things other people connect with death. AND WE LAUGH AT THEM, we make fun of them, and make scary heads out of pumpkins . Death is not something we should be afraid of. Yes, we may be afraid of illness or pain. Jesus was afraid of the things leading up to death, the cruel things the soldiers did to him. But he was not afraid of dying, because he was going back to his heavenly Father.

The month of November is the month the Church especially remembers those we call “the Faithful departed”, all the people who have finished their earthly lives, and now wait in heaven for the new heaven and the new earth which God has promised. We pray with them, and for them, as they do for us.

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the unjust judge
October 17, 2016, 7:16 pm
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A sermon preached at All Hallows, Easton, on October 16th 2016Sacred Heart Icon

“When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” This is a challenging question indeed. To understand our Lord’s parable, we need to know a little bit about how Jewish courts worked in those days. There was no clear distinction, as there is now, between civil and criminal courts. If a Jew believed he had suffered wrong from another person, he or she had to take their own case before a judge, who made his decision according to the Jewish Law. The other party to the dispute would also be able to put their case. When the Judge eventually made his decision, he was said to have “vindicated” or “justified” the person in whose favour the decision went.
In the story, the plaintiff is a widow who has been wronged by some adversary, and she wants the Judge to give his verdict in her favour. But this particular Judge is a bad man- probably in the sense that he took bribes, and was delaying his verdict in the hope of getting a back-hander. But the widow keeps on pestering him until he is so fed up he gives her her verdict anyway.
The first thing to say about this is that Jesus is not suggesting that God is an unjust judge who takes bribes! Quite the opposite! The point of the story, or one point, is to persevere in prayer. We can all take this at an individual level. But the first hearers would have taken a further meaning. Israel itself felt it was suffering wrong, through the Roman Occupation and through the corruptness of their own rulers, be they civil like Herod or religious like the Temple hierarchy. So at this level, the widow who cries to God for justice is Israel itself, the whole nation and especially those who were devout and faithful to God’s Covenant. To them, the message is: Don’t despair. God will vindicate you, even though he seems to delay. Although there were many and various ideas about how God would intervene to save his People (as he had done of old at the time of the Exodus), the Hope of Israel was that, in his own time, God would intervene. He would send his Messiah and usher in a New Age of justice and peace. This is the core meaning of the Lord’s Prayer, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
But notice: Jesus says that God will vindicate his People “speedily”. He is here hinting that the Day of Judgement, or Vindication, is close. He is not referring to what we now call “The Day of Judgement”, but to his own impending death for the salvation of, not just Israel but the whole world. In an unforeseen and unexpected way, this is how God would intervene.
And so the parable now takes on a further level of meaning. Our Lord is speaking particularly to and about his own followers. They themselves, like their Master, would be called upon to suffer persecution and hardship, maybe even death, on his account. In their trials, they would continue to call on God for vindication, and would continue to cry out, “How long, O Lord, how long will you delay.” This is the situation of the Church down to our own day, when Christians are persecuted and killed for their faith in many parts of the world. We pray (and Advent is getting close when this prayer is more frequent), “Come, Lord Jesus. This is the context of our Lord’s wistful words, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”
The coming of Christ in judgement is one of the basic articles of the Creed: “He shall come again in glory, to judge the living and the dead.” The first Christians took this very seriously, believing that the Lord would, or at least might, return within their own lifetimes. How seriously do we take it? However long the Lord’s return may be delayed, whether we are still alive on earth or have already died, we shall all be involved in it. He will come to judge both the living and the dead. But when he comes, will he find faith on earth? As we look about us at the world of today, we may well wonder.
Only thirty years after the death and resurrection of the Lord, St Paul foresaw a time when even some Christians would turn away from sound teaching, but choose to follow teachers who told them only what they wanted to hear. There have always been such teachers, and there are plenty today. I have just been in Malta, where St Paul is everywhere, as are the saints in general, our Lady and above all our Lord. Statues, pictures on every street corner or at the doorways of houses. This does not prove present-day fervour, but I went to an ordinary week-day evening Mass near our hotel, and there were over fifty in the congregation. But in England? Would it not be good if we could make our Lord as visible here in the streets of Easton, here at All Hallows? Pray without ceasing, and strengthen your faith through the Scriptures and the Sacraments, above all by attendance at Mass, not just on Sundays but whenever you can..