|Posted on 18 May, 2020 at 3:40||comments (1)|
This weekend is rogationtide. It is part of the church’s agricultural year – along with plough Sunday and harvest. One of the ancient rogationtide traditions is to beat the bounds, that is, to walk the boundaries of the parish. This might have been a grand procession with crucifer, acolytes, statues of the Virgin , Mary or the patron saint, robed clergy etc…, or a more modest affair where choirboys got into skirmishes with the lads from a neighbouring parish… Whatever the scale, the purpose was essentially the same: to pray for the parish, encircling the fields that would provide food for the coming winter. The people would ask God’s blessing on their fields and so acknowledge their dependence on God for the coming harvest and, by extension, their well-being.
This year I will probably not be beating the bounds of Sleaford (as I have occasionally done). Even with the slight relaxing of the lockdown and the possibility of unlimited exercise (one friend commented to me that of all the things they might wish to be unlimited, exercise was not one of them!) which means beating the bounds is possible, my thoughts about rogation have gone in a different direction this year. The text for the week is from the Old Testament reading for rogationtide. The people of Israel have been in the wilderness for 40 years but now they are about to enter the promised land. The wilderness experience is a major theme in Israel’s self-understanding. It was in the wilderness that they learned about God and their dependence on God.
For many the last 8 weeks have been a bit like a wilderness: a spiritual wilderness, a social wilderness, an employment wilderness. These past few weeks I have been thinking about what it means for the doors of the church to be locked. I’m not so concerned for the regular congregation but I am concerned for those who often popped into the church to find a quiet place to think and prayer and find peace and sanctuary in the midst of busy (and sometimes confusing) lives. I am thinking of those unable to work – furloughed on 80% of their salary – and the financial insecurity that goes with it. I am thinking of those who are isolated, lonely, unable to get out, unable to see family or friends.
This rogationtide it is more important than ever that we pray for our town and community, and ask God’s blessing on us all, that by his grace and mercy our community may one again flourish and that through this wilderness experience we may have learned more about ourselves, our priorities and our need of God.
|Posted on 18 May, 2020 at 3:40||comments (0)|
from The Rev’d Philip Johnson
May Day is also the feast of St Philip & St James. I have a particular affinity for St Philip, and not just because we share a name. Philip is the disciple who often says what I suspect most of the others are thinking. Jesus has just spoken about his father’s house with many rooms – a text I use regularly at funerals – but the disciples have not really understood what Jesus means. There is almost exasperation in Philip’s voice when he asks to be shown the Father so that he (and the others) might be satisfied.
I wonder what being satisfied means for us today? This period of lockdown has been hard for many… it has also been a time of questioning and adjustment: what are the most important things for our well-being? Regularly I see people out walking (often hand-in-hand) or on a bike ride with their children – far more often than I ever did before lockdown. Is it happening more often or am I just noticing it because I have more time to look? Last Sunday the air ambulance landed in the field opposite the vicarage. All of the neighbours came out of their houses, not simply to see what was happening but to check on each other – concern that one of us might be in need of this medical service. It is just a small thing, like clapping NHS and essential workers, but these are perhaps symptomatic of deeper changes. The lack of cars on the roads has led to noticeable changes in climate data. This lockdown has forced us to live differently and we will learn something from it – and perhaps that might be a re-estimation or where true worth and value lies.
St Philip wanted to be satisfied and see the Father and yet failed to see what was right in front of him. He took Jesus for granted, not realising that Jesus was already offering all that he needed. He needed to slow down and reflect on what Jesus said. He had to go through the pain of the crucifixion and resurrection before he realised that in Jesus, the Father was already with them. How easy it is to fail to recognise the value of what we already have!
|Posted on 18 May, 2020 at 3:35||comments (0)|
This has been the oddest Holy Week I have ever known. Someone described it as the ‘Lentiest, Lent they have ever Lented!’ There is far more in that flippant comment than first meets the eye. Lent is not just about giving up things – and we have all been giving up far more than we expected! – it is about re-assessing who we are and how we might change; a lament for our current situation but with the hope before us of knowing more of Christ. The joy of the resurrection on Easter day is the fulfilment of the Lenten hope. But what of this year? Our enforced isolation is set to continue; the church doors, schools, etc remain closed, fear abounds, - fear for health, financial security, well-being…
On that first Easter Day the disciples were locked in a room together, overwhelmed with fear. Their world had fallen apart. Everything that had kept them busy for the last three years was at an end – they really did not know what to do with themselves. Their hope had died on the cross too. And over it all was the shadow of fear. But into this scene Jesus appeared and said, ‘Peace be with you.’
From this revelation of the resurrection hope began to grow. They still faced a difficult future but hope had returned. In recent days I have seen signs of hope in our world: fish returning to the canals of Venice, mountain goats in central Llandudno, wildlife more evident everywhere, the hole in the ozone layer shrinking, a community spirit of helping the most vulnerable, support for NHS workers… the list could go on. These are all signs of hope for our town and our world. This Lent has, perhaps helped us all to re-evaluate what is most important both in the world and in our lives. And that is a good place from which to celebrate the joy of resurrection – God’s gift to us of life in all its fulness.
|Posted on 18 May, 2020 at 3:35||comments (0)|
CORONACLE – no, we haven’t made a ridiculous spelling mistake! It is a hybrid of Coronavirus and Chronicle and it is our new weekly newsletter to keep lines of communication open during this period when public worship in the church has been suspended. We are in strange and unprecedented times and all of us are learning the essentials of living through it. Things that we have taken for granted are now difficult. Feeling part of a community and having regular contact with others by phone, or some other means, is more important than ever. For those that have access to the internet I am using Twitter to publish a Bible verse for the day. There are also videos of services recorded twice a week. All of these can be accessed through our parish website. Not everyone will be able to access these resources and this weekly digest will attempt to fill that gap. But there is more to being a community than worshipping together. For some the inability to get out to the shops – or find what they need when they do get there – is severely restricting. We do have some volunteers that can help those that need it – with shopping or simply picking up a phone to check that all is okay. Being in lock-down is not pleasant but do remember that after the crucifixion the disciples were in a locked room, but Jesus came and stood amongst them and reveal his resurrection. Even when we cannot get to church God is still with us wherever we are.
|Posted on 6 March, 2020 at 3:55||comments (1)|
If you hadn’t already noticed, this year is a leap year. The past month – February – had an extra day. It happens every four years so you would think we would be used to it by now, but when ever it comes around it causes a bit of a fuss. It is not unusual to find a news story about someone celebrating their 21st birthday on the 29th when in fact they have lived for 84 years!
The problem, that need to be resolved by adding or subtracting days or months) to the calendar every few years, has been recognised for centuries. The ancient Jewish Calendar has twelve lunar months but in every 19 year cycle an additional month is added on seven occasions. It is also possible to delay the start of the year by two days. The reason for these variations is to ensure that the Passover always fall in springtime. The original Gregorian Calendar had 29 days in every February and every fourth year one day would be leaped – missed out.
Even with these additions the mathematics is not perfect and small extra adjustments continue to be made. The crux of the problem is that our lives are governed by both the moon and the sun. The cycle of the moon, from new to full, gives us one measure of the passage of time; the rising and setting of the sun and the solstices, give us another. Tides relate to the moon; season relate to the sun. But these two cycles are not easily reconcilable. Our human construct of the calendar can only every be an approximation – a best fit – of these two cycles. So, every few years we need to make the necessary adjustments.
I think that the leap year should be a moment of humility – a recognition that the greatest human mathematicians cannot construct a calendar that maps the cycle of the sun exactly onto the cycle of the moon. Frequently, the psalmist asks us to consider the sun, the moon, and the stars – the handiwork of our creator. It is a way of helping us to keep a proper perspective on the achievements of humanity and of our place in the created order.
As we approach Passover and Easter the leap year – a year that has been adjusted to ensure Easter fall in Springtime let us consider the sun, moon and the stars and marvel at the beauty and complexity of God’s creation.
|Posted on 7 February, 2020 at 4:35||comments (1)|
Well, January 31st has passed. Officially we are no longer part of the EU. Negotiations will continue for some time regarding what that might mean but the world hasn’t fallen apart yet. In fact, the announcements of doom (economic meltdown) concerning our departure from the EU have been swiftly replaced with announcements of doom about the new variant Corona Virus epidemic. I must admit that I am not too concerned about this new variant Corona virus, perhaps because I was at one time a clinical microbiologist. We have known about Corona viruses for decade – they are one of the causes of the common cold. They mutate regularly – hence why it is nigh on impossible to develop a vaccine for the common cold – and some variants are more lethal than others. Although the death toll from this variant is growing, given time, I believe, we will discover a way to control the virus and limit its lethal effectiveness. This is not the first infection that has caused an epidemic and it won’t be the last. I remember working with the Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) in the late 1980s and early 1990s and with patients who were infected with the virus. Many of them died and we found it hard to imagine a day when a diagnosis of being HIV+ could be anything other than a death sentence. Many prophesied that this virus would wipe out the human population. Well, it didn’t wipe out the population and we have thousands of patients who have been able to live a relatively normal life with HIV.
There is something within humanity that finds it very easy to think of the world in apocalyptic terms – we are all doomed – be it deadly infections, economic or political disasters, or climate change. The world has certainly seen some apocalyptic-type events: the holocaust, Hiroshima, the Spanish flu epidemic, the great North Sea flood of 1953… Horrendous as these and many other events have been the planet has not been totally destroyed; the population has not been wiped out… there have always been survivors.
I have been reflecting on these ideas recently and I wonder where God is in any discussion about the state of the world. In Christian theology we speak of a world created by God but marred from its perfection through human greed and disobedience. We speak of a God who has the power to destroy this world but who has chosen not to (read the Noah story). We speak of a God who chose to save humanity and the world for himself (read the Christmas and Easter stories). When I hear people say ‘we’re all doomed’ because of … I wonder where God is in their arguments. The most famous verse in the Bible (John 3:16) begins ‘Go so loved the world that he sent his son…’ Even when this world seems black and that we are all doomed this central tenet of the Christian faith we must hold on to. If the prophets of doom cannot take account of this central tenet of our faith, then their logic must be flawed.
|Posted on 20 December, 2019 at 3:15||comments (0)|
O Magnum Mysterium – O Great Mystery
Our season of carol services and concerts at Sleaford Parish Church got underway last week with a concert performed by the RAF College Band. It was a superb concert and for me the highlight of the concert was an arrangement of an ancient Christmas hymn – O Magnum Mysterium. The band played a modern arrangement by an American composer but it retained something of the Gregorian Chant in which the hymn had traditionally been sung. This ancient hymn from the 7th century rarely features in the music we often associate with Christmas but its title is as relevant today as it was the: O great mystery! It takes us to the wonder and joy of Christmas. I see something of this at every infant school nativity play that I watch. I see something of this in the faces of children watching the lights in the town and on the tree turned on for the first time. I see it in the illuminated face of a child cradling a Christingle in their hands. I see it in the acts of kindness and thoughtfulness that bring a moment of joy into someone’s life.
O Magnum Msyterium takes us back to the stable in Bethlehem and invites us to gaze on the baby in the manger with wonder and joy. And as we gaze to also reflect on the great mystery that God loves us so much he gave us his son.
I wish you a blessed and wonderful Christmas
|Posted on 6 December, 2019 at 5:05||comments (1)|
BBC Radio Lincs Advent Sunday 2019
Today is Advent Sunday and the countdown to Christmas begins. For many this will mean opening a little door on an Advent Calendar which may reveal a small chocolate or perhaps something even more luxurious. In churches we tend to light an advent candle marking the four Sundays of Advent – the light getting stronger as we get closer to Christmas. Today we light the first candle which is often associated with the Old Testament Patriarchs: Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel. These ancestors are not simply part of the pre-history of the Christmas story they are part of the story. In the Jewish tradition Abraham is our father: his story is part of our story and tells us about ourselves.
Stories are really important, especially the ones that tell us our history: they shape our values and help us locate ourselves in the world today. On this Sunday I often think of the people who have been most influential on me – Some of them, like my grandmother, I have known; others lived long before I was born but their story has become part of who I am. Not all of those I think about are actually relatives – an example of this is Mala, a former work colleague, who came to this country with her father for an arranged marriage with a man she had never met. I learned so much from her about what choosing to love really means. The stories of all these people have become part of my story.
The next candle on the advent wreath (which we will light next Sunday) recalls the prophets – those women and men who challenge the prevailing worldview and ask tough question about the way we view ourselves and the world. There are quite a few prophetic figures that have been influential in my story so far.
These two groups – the patriarchs and the prophets – help us prepare to hear again the good news of Christmas. They challenge us to look at ourselves; the values and ideas that we have inherited and have come to accept as our own. But they also ask us challenging questions about how we use all of that story which we have inherited to live life to the full in the world of today. The Patriarchs and prophets point us to the Christ-child – God’s gift of love to the world. And they encourage us to find something more of that love in our lives such that love becomes the dominant theme of our story.
I hope you have a blessed advent.
|Posted on 30 October, 2019 at 4:40||comments (0)|
Lest We Forget.
In a few days’ time the town will gather around the memorial on Market Square. The familiar words of the Kohima Epitaph will be read out, words from Lawrence Binyon’s poem, the Last Post, a chiming clock – the Silence.
For one hundred years this autumnal ritual has been performed. When an act of commemoration was inaugurated to mark the first anniversary of the end of the Great War I doubt any suspected that a century later it would still be observed. I doubt anyone thought that within a few short years the world would be at war again but this year we mark 80th anniversary of the beginning of that Second World War. And this autumnal ritual of remembrance continues. When I was first ordained it was not uncommon to see veterans of the wars on an Armistice Day parade. But the years have taken their toll: I have taken funerals of a good number of men (and a few women) who served during WWII; now there are very few left. It will not be many years before there is no veteran of the war left.
As a young(ish) curate I would often ask about wartime experiences. These mini-biographies helped shape the way I approached Remembrance Sunday. There was one group for whom the war was the best thing that ever happened to them. It gave them opportunities and broadened their horizons. They wore their medal with pride and would readily talk about (some of) their experiences. At the other end of the spectrum there was another group who never talked about the war; for whom Remembrance Sunday was a difficult day often spent in silent reflection in the privacy of their own homes. They may have been awarded just as many medals but those medals rarely saw the light of day for the memories associated with them were still, decades later, too hard to face. I remember an elderly gentleman in a nursing home being traumatised by an afternoon entertainer who led a sing-a-long of wartime songs in one of the day rooms. He was too frail to remove himself and the staff couldn’t understand why he was so distressed.
When I lead the service on Remembrance Sunday my mind is full of the stories that I have heard over the years, but most especially the stories of those who wanted to forget what they had experienced but were never able to. For me, this is not about glorifying war but about remembering the horror that so many lived through: some died, others carried the scars, mental and physical for the rest of their lives. As the generation that survived the war passes the motto of the Royal British Legion ‘Lest We Forget’ become ever more powerful, for if we do not remember, who will? If we do not remember history will repeat itself.
On this Remembrance Sunday we will pray, as we always do, for ourselves and for those wo would do us harm; we will pray for a world of peace where war is known no more; we will pray for that day when God’s Kingdom of justice, righteousness and peace will be known by all humanity. But in order to meaningfully pray for all these things we need to remember.
|Posted on 30 September, 2019 at 5:50||comments (0)|
I have just returned from a week at Launde Abbey in the rolling hills of the Leicestershire countryside. It was a retreat for clergy of a certain age who had served for a good number of years and had quite a few more years to go until retirement. The title of this piece – Celebrating wisdom – was the theme of the retreat. Whilst I was there I read a bit bout the history of the place. It was an Abbey before the dissolution of the monasteries. The small chapel is the only part of the original building. A country house was built on the site. In the 1920s Launde Abbey was bought by a gentleman without consulting his wife. Not such a wise move. She did not like it as it was too remote and so the house and land was given to Leicester Diocese.
On the retreat we were given tasks to help focus our thinking about who we were. How did we get to where we are? Why are we where we are? What might the next five, ten years look like? Where is God in all this? As we discussed our work in small groups I was surprised by how many resonances I found with other people’s stories. The certainty of youth had given way to ‘fifty shades of grey’; ambition and drive had become more nuanced and subtle; speed and energy had mutated in slower reflective practices. That which had been important in the past was less so now. The word that is so often put with mid-life is ‘crisis’: a recognition of what we are losing or never achieved followed by a ‘foolish’ attempt to gain or re-gain our youth – a motorbike or sports car, a trophy wife, etc. I have no idea how old the gentleman was who bought Launde Abbey without consulting his wife but it did seem to me that this was a rash act and could well have been an early form of mid-life crisis.
It can be so easy to look back at missed opportunities and try to re-gain what we have lost but this retreat encouraged us to look at the bigger picture; past, present, and future. It is only when we look at the whole picture that we can see the patterns and themes of our life, the changing priorities, and those things which are most important. But throughout it all is the constancy of God, ever present with us and calling us to follow him.