THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK

JANUARY 7TH 2024

May I take this opportunity to wish you all a very happy and peaceful new Year.

The year that was 2023 has passed and with it, perhaps those whom we have loved. For some people last year saw the loss of a job or the breakdown of a relationship.        For others it was a disturbing diagnosis or period of prolonged illness.                        For a whole host of reasons, many of us are glad to see the back of 2023.

But the change of year, a new calendar or diary, is not somehow going to guarantee any of us better “luck,” health or happiness in 2024. If only life were that simple.

For those of us who call ourselves Christians, we face the new year not with wishful thinking, optimism or luck, for none of these have any power to fully sustain us as we journey into the unknown.                                                                                   

This Sunday is Epiphany, the close of the Christmas Season, when we will be thinking of the effect of the Nativity on those who were involved, especially the shepherds and the magi. Their encounter with the Christ child changed their lives.                   

The Christian Faith is not about rules and rituals, no matter how worthy or meaningful those may be, but about a relationship.

We step out into the unknow future not relying on our own strength but trusting in one who said, “ I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

On December 25th 1939, King George VI spoke via radio to the Nation and Empire and included in his speech a poem given to him by his 13-year-old daughter Princess Elizabeth.

“I said to the man who stood at the Gate of the Year,
‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.’
And he replied, ‘Go out into the darkness, and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be better than light, and safer than a known way.’”

He finished by saying,

“May that Almighty Hand guide and uphold us all.”

Amen and amen!

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JANUARY 14TH

This Sunday is the Second Sunday of Epiphany.                                                        The Gospel is John 1:43-end and the following reflection is by Dr David Lose,

Senior Pastor of Mount Olivet Lutheran Church in Minneapolis, USA.                             

“Come and see.”                                                                                                     

Think, for a moment, about the effect of those words might have on you were you to hear them in an everyday context. Would they generate a certain sense of excitement about whatever it might be you were being invited to witness? Perhaps curiosity?

Or maybe gratitude that someone thought to include you?

The words are both simple and warm, issuing an invitation not only to see something, but also to join a community. To come along and be part of something. 

These words, this invitation, form the heart not simply of this opening scene but much of John’s Gospel. John’s story is structured around encounters with Jesus.

And so across the pages of John’s Gospel there are men and women, Jews and Gentiles, rich and poor, powerful and vulnerable, people of all shapes and sizes and varieties whom Jesus meets.

And to each one, in one way or another, he says the same thing: come and see.

Come and see God do a new thing.  

Come and see your future open up in front of you.                                                      Come and see the grace of God made manifest

and accessible and available to all.                                                                           

In response, some take up that invitation and follow, while others are puzzled, confused, or simply do not believe Jesus’ offer.

And some not only follow but invite others to do the same.                                       

“Come and see.”                                                                                                      Such easy, warm, and hospitable words. The heart not only of John’s Gospel but Christian evangelism, as we are called not to cram our faith down another’s throat or question their eternal destiny or threaten them with hellfire, but instead simply to offer an invitation to come and see what God is still doing in and through Jesus and the community of disciples who have chosen to follow him.

But as simple and as non-threatening as these words are, I wonder how many of us

have ever uttered them, or anything remotely like them.

For that matter, I wonder how often we have said them, not only to people who came to church one Sunday but to folks we meet in our daily lives.

The future of our faith communities will, I believe, be greatly determined by our willingness to invite others to share what we have found.

But the future of the church is without a doubt in God’s trustworthy hands.

The Spirit that inspired Philip and Andrew, who reached out through their efforts to others, and who overcame even the scepticism of Nathaniel is still offering all kinds of people all over the world an invitation to “come and see” and creating in them the desire to do just that.

So no matter how you may approach this text, perhaps we might end with this simple prayer:

“Come, Holy Spirit, that we may see and taste the grace of God afresh.

Come, Holy Spirit, that we might share the grace of God with others.

Come, Holy Spirit, that we might bear witness with our whole lives to the grace of God made manifest and available to us in Jesus.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JANUARY 21ST

The Gospel for the Third Sunday of Epiphany is Mark 1 vs 14-20.

Below is a reflection on the passage by Karoline Lewis, Professor and the Marbury E. Anderson Chair of Biblical Preaching, Luther Seminary, Saint Paul, Minnesota, USA.

“What I am struck by this week in the calling of the disciples according to Mark is not the “follow me,” not the calling, but the immediately. “Immediately they left their nets and followed him.” We can rationalize the “immediately” all we want — they saw something in Jesus.  Mark loves the word “immediately” and in repeating it creates an urgency unlike any other Gospel.                                                                             

I think that “immediately” can be less about marking time and more about describing action. Immediately does not only designate a when but a what.

Not only a place in time, but an event that changes the meaning of life.

Granted, the disciples have no clue at this point how life has been changed.

But we know. And maybe immediately is all we can do; all we can manage.

Because, preparation? Maybe it makes faith matters worse. Builds up anticipation, expectations. And then, when things do not go as planned?

Maybe a life of faith can only happen in immediately, in the surprising, sudden, profound epiphany of God at work, God revealed in our lives. Because if we think we can adequately prepare for God’s epiphanies, that we can be fully ready for what we will see, well then, God might be less than epiphanous.

Like taking childbirth classes will really prepare you for having a baby or being a mother. Let’s be honest.

We are called, perhaps not so much to follow, but to take Mark’s immediately seriously. This is not,

“wait a few minutes. Let me pack my bag. I have a few more arrangements to make.” No — epiphanies just happen. No preparation. No packing list.

No recommendations of what to take, what to do. 

And so, Jesus just happens.

On the shores of the Sea of Galilee.

No time to think.

No invitation to take your time.

Just go.

Here is truly epiphany according to Mark. Epiphanies are un-tamable and unpredictable. Unexpected and even undeserved.

We could spend a lot of time speculating why the disciples followed Jesus.

At the end of the day, I am not sure I care. They did.

Maybe there was no choice. I don’t know.

When we place our emphasis on the immediately, we are directed more toward the event and less on the how. I don’t know how. I just know that it happened.

Epiphanies, especially of the divine nature, demand an immediate response.

There’s no invitation for contemplation or reflection

but instantaneous commitment and risk. Or, to put it another way, no real choice. Naming epiphanous moments, describing those times when your response is out of your control, that might be getting close to articulating what happened with the disciples in Mark. If the heavens are ripped apart, well then, get ready for a wild ride. This can be simultaneously freeing and terrifying. Free to respond in the moment. Terrified of what beyond the moment will unfold.

This week, at least according to Mark, Epiphany is when your life is changed forever because Epiphany celebrates, in part, that God was forever changed.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JANUARY 28TH

The Gospel this week is Mark 1 vs 21-28.

Below is a brief reflection on the passage by Professor Paul Berge,

Luther Seminary, St Paul Minnesota USA.

“The evangelist of the Gospel of Mark has selected this exorcism story to inaugurate the public ministry of Jesus. In the Gospel we are “immediately” faced with the story of Jesus’ exorcism in the synagogue of Capernaum (1:21-28).

Our text for this Sunday follows the title and promise of the Gospel (1:1),

the identity of John the Baptist (1:2-8),

Jesus’ baptism and voice from heaven (1:9-11),

God’s Spirit driving Jesus into the wilderness and encounter with Satan (1:12-13), Jesus’ announcing of the kingdom of God and call to repentance (1:14-15)

and Jesus’ calling of Simon, Andrew, James and John (1:16-20).                                 

We have experienced early in our hearing from the Gospel of Mark a story which proclaims the lordship of Jesus Christ. This text is just as present for us as the experience in this first century story and world.

The immediacy of the story is continuously present as the adverb “immediately” appears three times in this brief story (1:21, 23, and 28).

The evangelist emphasizes the immediacy of God’s reign and rule breaking in and present in the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth.                                

In this world of demonic powers that continue to enslave us, Jesus has broken its hold. The hold of the evil one has no power over us. We pray in the Lord’s Prayer “deliver us from evil,” when the Greek text of the Gospel of Matthew reads “rescue us from the evil one” (Matthew 6:13, New Revised Standard Version).

We too have been rescued from the evil one and restored in our right minds through the lordship of the crucified and risen Christ.

This is an epiphany in our lives present in the Word of God.

Whether in the first century world of a healing in a synagogue in Capernaum

or in our gathering for worship today, the kingdom of God, the reign and rule of God’s power and authority is manifested in Jesus Christ.

This is an epiphany story now in our proclamation for all who gather to worship the one, true God on January 28th, 2024.                                                                       

“The Holy One of God” is our title for the Christ. He alone breaks into our world of possessions to free us to live in his authority to exorcize the powers of this age.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK FEBRUARY 4TH

February 2^nd is observed as Candlemas in the liturgical calendar and we will be reflecting on its meaning in worship this Sunday.

Below are some thoughts on Candlemas (and the Irish saint Brigid) by Jan Richardson, an artist, writer and ordained minister in the United Methodist Church in the USA.

“The beginning of February offers us another lovely feast day on the heels of today’s Feast of St. Brigid. In the rhythm of the Christian liturgical year, tomorrow marks the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus, also called the Feast of the Purification of Mary.            This day bids us remember Mary and Joseph’s visit to the Temple to present their child Jesus on the fortieth day following his birth, as Jewish law required, and for Mary to undergo the postpartum rites of cleansing.                                                      Luke’s Gospel tells us that a resident prophet named Anna and a man named Simeon immediately recognize and welcome Jesus. Taking the child into his arms, Simeon turns his voice toward God and offers praise for the “light for revelation” that has come into the world.                                                                                                        

Taking a cue from Simeon, some churches began, in time, to mark this day with a celebration of light: the Candle Mass, during which priests would bless the candles to be used in the year to come.                                                                          Coinciding with the turn toward spring and lengthening of light in the Northern Hemisphere, Candlemas offers a liturgical celebration of the renewing of light and life that comes to us in the natural world at this time of year,                                            as well as in the story of Jesus.                                                                                  As we emerge from the deep of winter, the feast reminds us of the perpetual presence of Christ our Light in every season.                                                                           

With her feast day just next door, and with the abundance of fire in the stories of her life, it’s no surprise that St. Brigid makes an appearance among the Candlemas legends. The stories and prayers of Ireland and its neighbours often refer to Brigid as the midwife to Mary and the foster mother of Christ.                                    Chronologically, this would have been a real stretch seeing as how Brigid was born in 454 AD!   However, the legend says that Brigid walked before Mary with a lighted candle in each hand when she went up to the Temple for purification.                      The winds were strong on the Temple heights, and the tapers were unprotected, yet they did not flicker nor fail.  

On this Candlemas, where do we find ourselves in this story?

Are we Mary, graced by the light that another sheds on our path?

Or are we Brigid, carrying the light for another in need?”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK FEBRUARY 11TH

The Gospel this week is Mark 9 vs. 2-9, the story of the Transfiguration.                      Below is a reflection on the reading by Melinda Quivik,                                              Liturgical and Homiletical Scholar, St Paul, Minnesota USA.

“Every time we gather for worship, we are the disciples on the mountain seeing the rabbi, the carpenter from Nazareth who became our teacher, bathed in light.               

The vision the disciples behold removes the veil of Jesus’ humanness to reveal his divinity: wondrous, frightening, powerful, unexpected, and rich, connecting all ages (the prophets Elijah and Moses with Jesus), giving enlightenment.                               

Jesus’ transfiguration is not to be approached with the assumption that we can understand it. It means to draw us in toward what is abnormal, unnatural—like the burning fire that does not consume the bush and like the fire Elijah hoped for and received from God on the altar drenched in water to win the wager against the prophets of Baal.

The Transfiguration places Jesus in the lineage and honour of the two prophets who stand beside him on the mountain.                                                                     

The Transfiguration gives the disciples the experience of witnessing a most amazing and unspeakable vision that draws them to want to stay there, dwell in that place of wonder, and then to be told by the voice of the divine that their job is not to abide in that wonder but to go back down the mountain.

The voice in the cloud is directed at the disciples, to the church, rather than to the Son as it was at his baptism.

In worship, week after week, through the Word of God, our vision is restored.              We are enabled by God to see Jesus as Saviour (something more than a teacher of morality and ethics) because the dazzling clothes constitute an epiphany.                      His transfiguration transforms the disciples in the story                                                and transforms us by removing the veil over our vision.

The church has a responsibility: to listen to God’s Son. That listening does not result in staying aloof where the air is pure and the view is stunning.

The church must listen to the voice of God’s Word in our midst

so that we follow in a way that leads to the cross.

We are not called to have power over others

but to rise up as dust that has been formed by the breath of God

and give life to others.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK FEBRUARY 18TH   LENT ONE

This Sunday is the First Sunday of Lent.

Below are some thoughts on the Gospel passage for this week, Mark 1 vs. 9-15

by Karoline Lewis, Luther Seminary, Saint Paul, Minnesota USA.

“The first Sunday in Lent is always Jesus’ temptation. Always.                                      But when was the last time you noticed just how brief Mark’s temptation story is?          It’s virtually non-existent. A summary only. To the point. No details really.

Just that it happened.

One could say, and you probably have,

“Well, that’s Mark for you. The Reader’s Digest Condensed Version of the Gospel.”

Of course, Mark’s version of Jesus’ temptation would be abbreviated!

To preach the temptation of Jesus in Mark is to call attention to our greatest temptation — the temptation to think that God is not present.                                                     We are tempted to believe that God is absent. God has given up. Withdrawn. Why? Well, you name it. A whole host of reasons. Need any prompts here?                            Our fellow parishioners sure don’t. They are fully aware that they are not worthy of God’s love which we tend to perpetuate during Lent. They are fully aware, as are we if we are honest, of those excruciating times when God is silent.

To reflect on Mark 1:9-15 on the first Sunday in Lent is to say clearly, unapologetically, without any doubt, that God is present in it all. We will not have the same temptations as Jesus. And naming Jesus’ temptations as some sort of comfort in our experience of the same implies that we can get through it, whatever “it” may be.

But we are talking about Jesus. The point of contact is not necessarily that Jesus was tempted yet without sin. That’s not helpful. I can’t be Jesus.

But I can look at Jesus’ temptation, whatever it is, whatever it turns out to be,

and say, God was there.

God is present. In other words, what if we focus less on listing all that tempts us,      less on some pep talk that we can deny all those so-called things that seek to get us to craft our golden calves, less on giving up the so-called temptations of our lives and focus on true denial of that which tempts us the most.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK FEBRUARY 25TH   LENT TWO

This Sunday is the Second Sunday of Lent and the Gospel is Mark 8:31-end.                It contains Jesus` well known saying,

“If any want to become my followers,let them deny themselves

 and take up their cross and follow me.”                        

The cross has lost much of its power and meaning and not just among those who see it as little more than a fashion accessory. Even for Christians, the cross can become so familiar that it loses its ability to both shock and inspire.

I hope that the following short passages and the reflection which follows,

may aid our devotions for this week.

"The cross of Christ is like a well-cut diamond.  

Turn it in the sun and you get a variety of colours and sparkles.  

Among other things, it brings out the price of true love, the power of vulnerability to bring about community, the presence of God within human suffering,

how death washes things clean,

how death can be triumph,

how one is tempted to cry out in despair just before triumph,

and especially how God loves us unconditionally."
Ron Rolheiser O.M.I.

"But the cross, though it has at its heart a collision and a contradiction,

can extend its four arms for ever without altering its shape.  

Because it has a paradox in its centre it can grow without changing.

The cross opens its arms to the four winds; it is a signpost for free travellers."
G. K. Chesterton

"The cross performs a function of synthesis and measurement.  

In it Heaven and Earth are conjoined…in it time and space are intermingled.  

The cross is the unbroken umbilical cord of the cosmos,

linking it to the centre from which it sprang.  

Of all symbols the cross is the most universal and all-embracing.  

It symbolizes intervention, mediation, the natural and permanent structure of the universe and communication between Heaven and Earth and Earth and Heaven.
Champeaux, G.de and Dom Sterckx, S. (O.S.B.)

AND THOSE WHO LOSE THEIR LIFE WILL SAVE IT

Mark 8: 27-38

I opened the curtain this morning:
the sun was giving itself away
with a brilliant smile.

I walked by a stream this morning:
the water was giving itself away
with a gentle song.

I greeted a friend this morning:
joy was giving itself away
with the warmth of touch.

I thought of your cross this morning:
how you gave yourself away
in holy love.

May I become such grain this morning:
living in what is given away
for another’s bread.

Andrew King

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK MARCH 3RD  LENT THREE

Below is part of a reflection on this week`s Gospel reading about the Cleansing of the Temple, by Rev Janet E  Hunt.

“One wonders how it is that Jesus 'saw' what no one else could or would.                How could his perception have been so radically different that he would act with such forthright certainty to make right that which was so wrong.  

And yet, we do recall that the temple held precious memories for Jesus.  

It was the destination where every Jewish child knew he or she would make at least one pilgrimage in their lifetimes.

It was the place where he had gotten so caught up in conversation with the teachers when he was a small child himself, that his parents lost track of him.

To be sure, unlike any who had come before, this was his home before any other home for he understood it to be his 'Father's house.'  

So perhaps it should come as no surprise that Jesus would show his outrage at what things had come to there. For it appears this holy place had become, for some at least, a place of business transactions. Indeed, some believe that the surcharge for exchanging money into currency which was suitable for temple offerings was so exorbitant that the poor were not able to afford to encounter God in that place in the way that it was customary to do so. And that would have been entirely contrary to God's intent.

Whatever the case may have been, clearly Jesus saw all of this as standing in the way of it being the holy place it was meant to be.  

And when Jesus comes face to face with it, he sees red.  

He throws the money changers and those selling sheep and cattle

and doves for sacrifice into chaos.

How can you and I develop the eyes of Jesus?  

How do we gain sight or insight which is not content to turn away or to ignore or explain away that which gets in the way of others encountering the Holy One?

How do I gain the courage or the will to see 'bright colours' which yes,

sometimes will offend, even as they inspire?

Surely one of the ways to do this is to invite others with 'fresh eyes' to tell us what they see and experience in the 'temple' where I serve.  

It may be those newest among us.  

Or those who have been away a while.  

Or children.

Or simply someone who does not necessarily agree with me.  

While they may or may not actually have 'eyes of Jesus,' even in their questions and observations they are likely to challenge or point out what I have failed to see or no longer experience because I have grown accustomed to the 'way it is.'                                     

Now of course, even as I wonder this, I am aware that in this life our 'temples' may never be entirely clean. Even so, it seems to me that as we encounter Jesus' outrage today, the call is also ours to seek to see our lives, the lives of others, the 'temple,' and this whole wide world in which we live with the eyes of Jesus and to do what we can to rid it and us of all that would get in the way of others encountering God.

And yes, sometimes it our call is to 'see red,'  it seems to me, at least when it matters.”

In a building that is not a building
but the dusty halls of my spirit,
in a heart that is not just a heart
but an intended-to-be-holy temple,

there are sheep and there are cattle
that are not sheep and cattle
but the worries and concerns
and the sorrows of life,

and there are dulled coins and doves
that are not coins and doves
but the tarnished hopes and dreams
of an aging mind,

and they clutter and crowd the courtyard,
cloud the air with their smells and voices,
their noises of stress and hunger:
overpowering the words of prayer.

Saviour, come into the spaces
of this yearning-to-be-holy temple,
come and cleanse this heart of distractions,
help me clear the clutter, the noises,

make it more of a place of listening
open to the mystery of your presence,
a space of restfulness, a quiet centre
for lifting unfettered prayer.

Andrew King

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK MARCH 10TH LENT FOUR

This coming Sunday is the Fourth Sunday of Lent and the Lectionary Gospel from John chapter 3 includes the well-known verse “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.” You can tell which version of the Bible I grew up with!

But this Sunday is also Mothering Sunday, not to be confused with Mother`s Day, which is an American invention. Mothering Sunday has its roots in medieval Christianity when the Latin texts of the Mass on Laetare Sunday referenced mothers and metaphors for mothers. These included a verse from Galatians where Saint Paul refers to Jerusalem as “the mother of us all.”                                                       

After the Reformation, the Book of Common Prayer continued to assign the same readings. During the 16^th century people continued to return to their `Mother Church`, which could be the church where they had been baptised or the nearest cathedral, the Mother Church of the diocese.                                                                             

For those who worked and lived away, this meant travelling back to their home town or village and anyone who did this was commonly said to have “gone mothering,” a term recorded in 1644.

Sadly, the modern observance of the day has taken on the American title of Mother’s Day and has lost any religious significance.                                                                Some of us still seek to retain the Christian ethos of the day and honour not only our earthly mothers but the Church, which even the Protestant Reformers regarded as “the mother of us all.”                                                                                                     

So as we come to worship, and to pay tribute to our mothers, both living and departed, we also remind ourselves of the motherly and nurturing role of the Church in our lives, as it seeks to remind us of the love of God who is  our heavenly Parent.

God's Helpers

God could not be in every place
With loving hands to help erase
The teardrops from each baby's face,
And so He thought of Mother.

He could not send us here alone
And leave us to a fate unknown;
Without providing for His own,
The outstretched arms of Mother.

God could not watch us night and day
And kneel beside our cot to pray,
Or kiss our little aches away;
And so He sent us Mother.

And when our childhood days began,
He simply could not take command.
That's why He placed our tiny hand
Securely into Mother's.

The days of youth slipped quickly by,
Life's sun rose higher in the sky.
Full grown were we, yet ever nigh
To love us still, was Mother.

And when life's span of years shall end,
I know that God will gladly send,
To welcome home her child again,
That ever-faithful Mother.

George W. Wiseman

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK MARCH 17TH  LENT FIVE

The Gospel this week is John 12 vs. 20-33. It is a passage with two distinct parts.     

In the NRSV the headings are, Some Greeks Wish to See Jesus (verses 20-26) and Jesus Speaks about His Death (verses 27-36)

I want to share some thoughts by Karoline Lewis on the passage and in particular the verse “Sir, we wish to see Jesus”. She says.

“This verse is a summative theology of preaching for the Fourth Gospel. Preaching John means creating an experience of Jesus. It’s that simple.

The request of the Greeks voices the desire of every parishioner in the pew — not to be told about Jesus but the desire to encounter Jesus.

Too many sermons stop at information.

Perhaps this week a Post-it note in your pulpit would be an important reminder of the purpose of preaching - to show them Jesus - particularly when having Palm Sunday, Holy Week, and Easter in clearer view……                                                                   

“Pastor, we wish to see Jesus.”

Show them. Show them, big time.

Or, to put it another way, “go big or go home.”

As Fred Craddock once noted,

“If there is a disease in preaching … it’s not that what the minister says is wrong.

It’s that it is just too small.”  

Karoline Lewis

In researching the text I came across this illustration online;

A brilliant young preacher, with several degrees after his name, once accepted a call to pastor a large congregation.  The people were pleased with his oratory and learning, but something seemed to be missing from his sermons. 

One day, when entering the pulpit, he saw a note addressed to him,

bearing the following words:  “SIR, WE WOULD SEE JESUS!” 

The Holy Spirit spoke to his heart.  Throwing aside his superficiality and his scholarly rhetoric, he became an ambassador for Christ, pleading with the people to be reconciled to God through Christ.  Those who came to be entertained by his message remained to pray and repent of their sins. 

On a later Sunday, the young minister found another note pinned to the pulpit. 

On it was written a Scripture that summarized the feelings of his now well-fed congregation. 

It read,

“THEN WERE THE DISCIPLES GLAD WHEN THEY SAW THE LORD!.”

John 20 vs 20b

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK MARCH 24TH  PALM SUNDAY

I recently came across these words of reflection on Palm Sunday by Jan Richardson, artist, writer, and minister of the United Methodist Church USA.

`Lately I have found myself thinking about procession and pilgrimage:

how we move with mindfulness across a landscape that transforms us along the way; what propels us to set off down paths made sacred

by those who have travelled before us;

which roads draw us closer to God,

and which ones draw us farther away from being aware of God’s presence?                                                                                                      

There are times for venturing down a holy path that has physical substance,

giving ourselves to traveling a real road that will alter us in ways we cannot predict. And then there are times for committing ourselves to a way that will not take us far in terms of physical distance but will draw us down interior pathways we have not explored before.

The desert mothers and fathers of the early church well knew this latter journey.

They often counselled staying put, wanting to make sure that physical travel wasn’t being treated as a substitute for interior work rather than an aid to it.

Reflecting on this in her book The Forgotten Desert Mothers, Laura Swan writes,

“The desert journey is one inch long and many miles deep.”                            

The road that Jesus travelled to Jerusalem in order to make his entrance that we celebrate on Palm Sunday was not terribly long in terms of physical distance.

Yet it was miles deep, marked by years of preparation and prayer, discernment and courage as Jesus travelled farther into the fullness of who he was meant to become.

And what road do we travel to meet the Christ who comes toward us on that ancient way of procession and pilgrimage?

What journey do we need to take,

by inches and miles, in order to welcome him?                                                           

“My life’s work,” my Franciscan friend Father Carl once said,

“is to go on a pilgrimage to who I am.”

This week and beyond, may we make that pilgrimage.`

"Blessed Is the One"
For Palm Sunday

Blessed is the One
who comes to us
by the way of love
poured out with abandon.

Blessed is the One
who walks toward us
by the way of grace
that holds us fast.

Blessed is the One
who calls us to follow
in the way of blessing,
in the path of joy.

Jan Richardson

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK  MARCH 31ST 

EASTER SUNDAY

This Sunday is Easter Sunday, the pinnacle and climax of the Christian Year.

At Easter we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, no matter how we chose to interpret the gospel account.

For many Christians it is an historical event and for others a profound spiritual metaphor. But whether you are a biblical literalist or someone who interprets scripture somewhat differently, there is a truth that we all share, namely that this is a story of the ultimate triumph of good over evil.

That truth, represented in the story of Easter, is at the very heart of the Christian Faith. Saint Paul was quite clear - just read 1^st Corinthians chapter fifteen!            

One of my favourite readings, which I often use at Easter, is  from that chapter;

“If Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain.                                                                                                      If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins.

Then those also who have died in Christ have perished.

If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.”        1^st Corinthians 15:14 &17.

It is the resurrection and all that it represents, which sets Christianity apart from other religious, philosophical or ethical systems. Yes, there are profound insights in the teachings of Jesus that can be appreciated by people of all faiths and none but it is this deep belief in the triumph of Christ and the ultimate victory over sin, disease and death, which has the power to transform lives, societies and even the world.

1^st Corinthians 15 also contains these precious truths;

“For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy  to be destroyed is death. When all things are subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to the one who put all things in subjection under him, so that God may be all in all.”

Whatever challenges you are facing at this time, whether they be physical, emotional, spiritual or financial, be assured by the truth of the Easter story, that God is ultimately in control, that his purposes are good and that in Him, you can be secure.                                                                                                                                                Let me end by sharing one more gem from 1^st Corinthians 15,

“But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Amen and amen!                                                                                                      Have happy and blessed Easter.

Easter Day by Christina Rossetti

Words cannot utter
Christ His returning:
Mankind, keep jubilee,
Strip off your mourning,
Crown you with garlands,
Set your lamps burning.

Speech is left speechless;
Set you to singing,
Fling your hearts open wide.
Set your bells ringing:
Christ the Chief Reaper
Comes, His sheaf bringing.

Earth wakes her songbirds,
Puts on her flowers.
Leads out her lambkins.
Builds up her bowers:
This is man’s spousal day,
Christ’s day and ours.

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK APRIL 7TH 

EASTER TWO

The following reflection for the Second Sunday of Easter is by David Lose.

“The story of Thomas has always been one of my favourites.

Of course, it’s not just a story about Thomas. It’s also a story about frightened disciples. So scared, in fact, that, they hid behind locked doors.

And who can blame them?

They had just witnessed the one they confessed to be the Messiah betrayed by one of his own, tried and convicted by both religious and civil authorities,

and then brutally executed.

Little wonder they were afraid, assuming that the next step would be to round up Jesus’ followers.

But when Jesus comes on the scene, their fear falls away and is replaced by joy.

This, I think, is the way we assume faith should work.

Yes, perhaps you’ve got doubts, questions, and fears, but then God arrives and those all fall away, replaced by joy and wonder and, of course, unshakeable faith.

But that’s not the way it works with Thomas. He doubts. He questions. He disbelieves. He’s not satisfied with second-hand reports and wants to see for himself.

And again I would say, who can blame him?

He was, after all, one of those who saw his Lord and friend mistreated, beaten, and then crucified and has probably spent the last few days pulling the broken pieces of his life back together and trying to figure out what to do next.

In fact, he might have already started getting on with his life – why else, I wonder, is he out and about when the rest of the disciples are hiding behind locked doors.

So here’s what I’m wondering a day or two after a joyous Easter service: do we make room for the Thomases in our world? Because I suspect that their number is legion, even among those who worshipped with us on Sunday and certainly among those with little or no familiarity with our congregation or faith.

Thomas does come to believe. He sees Jesus for himself. And after that experience he not only assents or consents to the witness of his comrades but makes the most profound confession of faith about Jesus contained in the New Testament, calling Jesus “my Lord and my God,” bookending the confession in John 1 where the eternal word that becomes flesh is not only with God but is God.                                                   

But all of that comes after he has a chance to voice his doubt.

And sometimes faith is like that – it needs the freedom of questions and doubt to really spring forth and take hold.

Otherwise, faith might simply be confused with a repetition of creedal formulas, or giving your verbal consent to the faith statements of others.

But true, vigorous, vibrant faith comes, I think,

from the freedom to question, wonder, and doubt.

Yes, on this Sunday the gospel commends those who “had not seen yet believed.”

But also on this Sunday, I think it’s important to make room for a little doubt.

It’s okay to have questions.

Indeed, let’s commend them – even bless them! – for their questions.

Because questions and wonder and doubt and even scepticism are signs of interest and curiosity and these, quite often, are the soil in which vibrant faith is born.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK APRIL 14TH

EASTER THREE

This week`s reflection for the Third Sunday of Easter is by Karoline Lewis.

“Jesus’ address to the disciples is not, “you will be witnesses.

Not, “please be witnesses.”

Not, “consider being witnesses if you have time.”

No, “you are witnesses of these things.”

We are witnesses.

As it turns out, witnessing is not voluntary, but a state of being.

Matt Skinner writing about the people of God in Acts says,

“The empty tomb of Easter eventually propels them to tell, through words and deeds, what they have seen and what they know.”

If an empty tomb doesn’t get you out there, it’s hard to imagine what it will take.

But that’s part of the problem. We seem to want to wait around for a more grandiose revelation of God’s activity before we are willing to witness to our God.

As if our God who defeated death, who topples empires, whose salvation seeks to go to the ends of the earth isn’t enough.

What are we waiting for?

What more do we need?

What are we afraid of?              

I suspect that for many of us, hearing that we are witnesses is not necessarily good news. We remember how often we have declined our identity. We remember how often we have deferred testimony to others. We remember how often we have determined that our witness wouldn’t make a difference anyway, so why bother?

But, in doing so, we deny the truth of who we are and who Jesus needs us to be.

We give up avowals about God that not enough people get to hear or experience.

And we forgo the fact that we are never NOT giving witness to God.

That’s the rub.

“We are witnesses” is not only who we are but also then how others see God to be.

“We are witnesses” both points to our calling as well as our commitment to it.

“We are witnesses” gives witness to our own selves, our own faith, our own belief.

And that is the hardest truth to hear — that perhaps we

don’t believe in the identity God has given us,

don’t believe God needs it,

don’t believe others will see it,

don’t believe that it actually matters.

All the while, therefore, abnegating God’s expanded horizons and God’s relentless attempts to expand our imaginations. So rather than continue in our ceaseless attempts to convince ourselves we have a choice, that we can carry out this occupation just as soon as we are adequately prepared, that we can graciously, even politely and respectfully, eschew God’s claim on us, why not try it on and see what it feels like? Wear it around, maybe even with “gladness in your heart” (Psalm 4:7).

Fake it till you make it, if you will.

Who knows?

Maybe then we might start to believe it.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK APRIL 21ST

EASTER FOUR

Below is part of a reflection on this week`s Gospel, John 10:11-18, by David Lose.

“So here it is: amid Jesus’ discourse on being “the good shepherd,” what jumped out to me this time was Jesus’ simply but bold assertion that, “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

Have you ever noticed that before? Or, more than notice it, have you ever given much thought to its theological implications? What strikes me is that, quite simply, Jesus isn’t done yet. Despite his healings, despite his preaching, despite all that he had already done and planned to do, Jesus isn’t done yet. He still has more sheep to reach, sheep that are not in this fold. By extension, I’d suggest that God isn’t done yet, either.         

And this matters for at least three reasons.                                                             

First, God continues to call people from all walks of life, from every nation on the face of the earth, and from each and every generation across the nearly two thousand years since Jesus first uttered those words until today. If that were not true, you and I would not have come to faith and we certainly would not be giving our lives to the task and joy of proclaiming the Gospel.                                                           

Second, God is at work in our midst and through us and our congregations to extend the invitation to abundant life offered by the Good Shepherd. We probably know that, but do our people? Do they imagine, that is, that God is using their lives and words to invite others to faith? Can they imagine that simply by praying for someone or inviting someone to church they might be the vessel by which God continues to reach out and embrace God’s beloved sheep from beyond this fold?                                                 

Third, the members who will one day constitute Jesus’ flock are beyond our imagining. There is a tremendous expansiveness to Jesus’ statement here, and we do not know – for neither Jesus nor John tells us – just what are the limits of the fold Jesus describes. All we know is that Jesus – and therefore God – isn’t done yet.

Jesus is still calling, God is still searching, and in time we will all be, as Jesus says, one flock under one shepherd. Which means, I think, that while we may not know all that God has in mind for those who have followed different paths, I nevertheless trust them all to the mercy and grace of the Good Shepherd.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK APRIL 28TH

EASTER FIVE

Today’s reflection on this week`s gospel, John 15 vs 1-8,  is by David Lose.

“Anyone else feeling rather pruned of late? Don’t get me wrong. I lead a blessed life with a wonderful family and job and friends, for all of which I am profoundly grateful. And yet at any given moment, even when things are going relatively well, there are still so many difficult things with which to contend in this life and it often feels like being pruned.                                                                                                                   

Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it just feels like being cut, cut down by life’s tragedies great or small, cut down by disappointment or despair, cut down by illness or job loss or other circumstances beyond our control and left to wither and die.

It’s easy to read this passage as one of judgment and threat.

But I think the thrust of the passage is promise. Why? It all has to do with context.

First, the context of the narrative: Jesus is offering these words to his disciples on the eve of his crucifixion. He knows what is going to happen – both to himself and to his flock – and they do not. They are about to be cut down by his crucifixion and death and he is assuring them that it will not be mere, senseless cutting but that they will survive, even flourish.

The second context is that of the community for which John writes. Because by the time they hear these words they have already been scattered, likely thrown out of their synagogue, and have had plenty of reason to feel like they’ve been abandoned. But John writes to assure them that while they have indeed been cut, it is the pruning for more abundant fruit and life. No doubt that was hard to believe, as there was precious little evidence available to the disciples or John’s community that they had not been abandoned. And no doubt it still is hard to believe on our end as well, as so much of life simply tears at us with no evidence that it is toward some more fruitful future. But amid this uncertainly and distress, Jesus still invites us – actually, not just invites but promises us – that he will not abandon us but rather will cling to us like a vine clings to a tree so that we endure, persevere, and even flourish among these present difficulties.                                                                                   

No matter what happens, Jesus will hold onto us.                                                        No matter what happens, God in Jesus will bring all things to a good end.”                  No matter what happens, we have God’s promise in Jesus to work for good.

Keep in mind, after all, that these words are said just before Jesus goes to the cross. And I would argue that the cross is the chief example of God’s commitment to wrestle life and hope from the very place that seems most devoid of life and hope. The resurrection is the promise that no matter how much tragedy we endure, these hardships will not have the last word. It is helpful to hear once again that the suffering we endure is not wasteful cutting but pruning for a more abundant future and, that no matter what happens, Jesus will not abandon us.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK MAY 5TH

EASTER SIX

The reflection this week`s gospel John15:9-17,

comes from Melissa Bane Sevier.                                                           

“I like how Jesus came to call his disciples `friends.`

I doubt if he would have been able to do that when they were first spending time together. But over time, all relationships change.                                                       

A few months ago I was eating pizza with some of the church’s youth at a Sunday night service and I asked them what it means to be a friend. I wrote down all the definitions, because they were better than any I would come up with.

“A friend is someone who is herself.”

“A friend is nice.”

“A friend cares about you, listens to your problems, and helps you.”

“A friend thinks about you before he thinks about himself.”

“A friend cares about other people’s opinions and beliefs and respects them.”                                   

I notice that all these definitions describe how a person acts, not just how she feels or what she says. The worst kind of friend is the kind who says he cares about you,

but whose actions show indifference, or worse.

If this saying of Jesus, which is set on the night of his arrest, is about the church to come, then I think one thing is both obvious and interesting: people in the church ought to be friends. Friends are people who can count on each other, who say positive things about and to one another.

The problem is, of course, that not all churches are places where friends are in abundance.

I know a woman who’s been super involved in churches for over 20 years. Recently she started attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. There, she says, she discovered the “church” she’d always been seeking. Her AA friends listen without judgment and, when she’s under stress, they simply call to check on her.             

This may not be easy. Love can get tired. Our ability to love everyone is limited.

None of us does it perfectly. But God has a store of love from which we can draw when we have exhausted our own resources. And so we just keep trying.                             

We’ve been befriended already. Now we just have to befriend others.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK MAY 12TH

ASCENSION SUNDAY

The gospel for Ascension is Luke 24: 44-53.

Below is a reflection on the passage by Thomas R. Hawkins.                                                                                                                                                              “Suddenly, the disciples were without their guide, their teacher, and their leader. 

They no longer had an authority figure in their midst to tell them what to do.

They experience an expansion of being, an empowerment. 

This empowerment authorizes them for ministry and mission. 

They preach the gospel to every race, nation, and tongue already assembled in Jerusalem for the pilgrim feast of Pentecost. 

It is an empowerment sparked by acts of inclusion rather than exclusion.                     

When I was about 13 or 14, my father asked me to ride along with him as he cultivated a field of corn.  It was a tricky job.  The sharp blades of the cultivator had to pass between the rows of corn.  If we had veered a few inches to the left or to the right, we would have ploughed out four rows of young corn plants.  The tractor did not have power steering, so holding it and cultivator in a straight path was not always easy. After a few rounds of the field, my father asked me if I would like to try driving.  Reluctantly, I sat down behind the steering wheel, popped the clutch, and took off down the field.  Steering was harder than it looked.  Forty feet of corn, in a four-row swath, were ploughed out before I had driven five minutes.  My father gently gave me a few suggestions as I went awkwardly and destructively down the field and back.  After a few more rounds, my father asked me to stop the tractor.  I obviously was not controlling the tractor and cultivator. My father hopped off and said he had some chores to do in the barn.  I was to finish the field and then come in for lunch.  All morning long, in my father’s absence, I plied my way back and forth across the corn field.  Huge sections of corn were torn out, roots exposed to the drying sun, and stalks prematurely sliced down.  But by noon I learned to handle the tractor and the cultivator. My father’s absence was a sign to me that he trusted himself and what he taught me.  It also signalled that he trusted me.  His absence was empowering rather than disabling.  It authorized me to trust myself and trust what he had taught me.  I would never have learned to cultivate corn had I worked anxiously under his critical eye, hanging on his every gesture and comment.

That is the meaning of Ascension and Pentecost. 

Jesus’ withdrawal becomes an empowering absence. 

It is a sign that he trusts what he has taught us enough to set us free. 

He refuses to allow us to depend upon him. 

We cannot cling to him but must learn to discover his authority among ourselves.  Thus, he tells Mary not to cling to him but to return to the community of his disciples. (John 20:17). 

This sense of empowerment and authorization is exhilarating.  It is like tongues of fire.  We name that experience the Spirit of the Living God.

We honour Jesus’ absence when we refuse to become little authorities, trying to fill up Jesus’ absence. 

We honour Jesus’ absence when we help others experience the Holy Spirit through mutual collaboration rather than by making them passive, dependent, or subservient to our authority.” 

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK MAY 19TH

PENTECOST SUNDAY

As we prepare to celebrate Pentecost Sunday, I want to share with you this reflection which I found online on a website called SALT+

1. The birthday of the church is a perfect time to reflect on what “the church” is in the first place. This week’s passage points toward a portrait of the church as a dynamic community of people following Jesus, empowered by the Holy Spirit to carry out God’s mission of healing, liberation, and joy for the sake of the world.                                                                                                               

2. This community is strikingly inclusive and egalitarian. The Jews Peter addresses are immigrants from all over the known world, who now live in Jerusalem, and the Jesus movement will soon open up to include Gentiles as well. Accordingly, Luke casts the church as a diverse, prophetic community of bridge-builders, visionaries, and dreamers, male and female, enslaved and free (Acts 2:17) and soon enough, this egalitarian, communitarian ethos extends to the church’s social organization as well: “they would sell their possessions and goods

and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need."                                                                                                                     

3. Likewise, this is a perfect week to reflect on how we understand the Holy Spirit. Luke’s portrait of the Spirit draws on ideas at least as ancient as Ezekiel’s vision, in which God’s “breath” or “spirit” — both ru’ah in Hebrew — brings life, renewal, connection, and restoration, sometimes in sudden, disruptive fashion (compare Ezekiel’s “suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together” to Luke’s “suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind” (Ezekiel 37:7, Acts 2:2).                                                                                                                               

4. But for all the drama, Pentecost is only the beginning: throughout the Book of Acts, again and again, the Spirit mobilizes the church and opens up new horizons for ministry. Breath means new life — and new life means new growth, change, and ongoing development. The Spirit protects and connects, but also challenges, provokes, and pushes us along.                                                                                               

So, “Happy Birthday,” yes — and also, “Let’s go!”

The church is not a building, nor is it a particular membership or group of people.

At its heart, the church is a mission,

God’s mission and the call, the challenge, the adventure continues.                     

Let’s go!

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK MAY26TH

TRINITY SUNDAY

This Sunday is Trinity Sunday and honest Christians, both clerical and lay,

admit that the Doctrine of the Trinity is baffling

and rather than explain the nature and being of God,

it makes it even more difficult to understand. 

One American Christian, David Lose, suggests the following thought for this Sunday:

“Look, here’s the thing: I don’t for a moment pretend to understand the Trinity,

and quite frankly I don’t trust those who say they do.

(Goodness, even Augustine said it was beyond him.)

But I do know this: at the heart of our understanding of God as somehow three-in-one is the notion that you can’t fully or finally understand God without talking about relationship.                                                                                                     

That God is so full of love that there has to be some way of talking about that loved shared in and through profound relationships. Some say that’s why God created the cosmos and humanity in the first place, to have more people to love.               

But the Trinity goes even further, saying that from the very beginning of time the dynamic power of love that is at the heart of God’s identity and character can only be captured – and that dimly! – by thinking of the love that is shared.

(Perhaps it’s simply impossible to think about love that isn’t shared.)

And so God’s essential and core being has always been a giving and receiving and sharing of love that finally spills out into the whole of the universe and invites all of us into it.

First through creation and God’s series of covenants, then and pre-eminently in the sending of God’s Son to demonstrate in word and deed just how much God loves us, and now as the Spirit bears witness to God’s ongoing love for us and all creation.

Which means, I think, that when we talk about the Trinity as God being three-in-one, we really haven’t captured the heart of the doctrine and reality unless we recognize that God is three-in-one in order always to add one more – and that’s us, all of us,

an infinite “plus one” through which God’s love is made complete in relationship with all of God’s children.

And that’s what todays readings testify to – the profound love of God that draws us into relationship with God, with each other,

and with the whole of creation and the cosmos.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JUNE 2ND

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Hot on the heels of the theological conundrum, which is the Trinity, this week we grapple with Jesus` words,

“The Sabbath was made for Man and not Man for the Sabbath.” 

To help us understand the passage (Mark2;23-3:6) I have included the thoughts of 

D.Mark Davis, author of the blog, Left Behind and Loving It.

“I consider this one of the key texts in all of the gospels to understand Jesus’ relation to his tradition, particularly to the law. Jesus’ operating principle is that the Sabbath (and, with that, I am reading all of the law and the rituals of holiness) was created for humanity, and not the other way around. 

The idea that ‘humanity was made for the Sabbath’ continues to be a wildly popular theology that God created the law and humanity needs to live up to it

or else we are lost.                                       

In that theology, God is chiefly known as holy, and humans have to achieve a certain level of holiness through following laws or practicing purity rituals

to be acceptable to God. 

The alternative theology, which Jesus poses here, is that ‘the Sabbath was made for humanity.’ In that sense, God is chiefly known as love and the laws and purity rituals are for humanity’s own good. Or, even better, they offer ways that humanity can respond to God’s grace with gratitude. 

The disputation over the Sabbath is really emblematic of the whole purpose and meaning of the law in general. If that is the case, the Pharisees’ words, motives, and actions, as the narrator describes them, are compelling depictions of what happens when someone is so bent on keeping the particularity of the law that they are willing to overlook the sheer joy of a man’s withered hand being restored.

They are compelling depictions of what it means to focus on the exactitude of the letter and to miss the spirit of the law entirely.

They are compelling depictions of why “the law” could either be a life-giving source of joy and instruction or a life-demeaning source of judgment and an onerous burden.” 

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JUNE 9TH

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

In this week`s gospel (Mark3 vs 20 – end) Jesus speaks of the family.                         

Here are some thoughts on the subject by Rev Rick Morley, an Episcopal priest.

“Family is as foundational a concept in the Bible as anything else. The Bible begins in Genesis, not with talk of nations and tribes…but families.

Big families.                         

Real families.

With moments of disfunction so great, it makes your head spin and gives one pause at the phrase ”biblical family values.”

And, sure, there are other great metaphors to describe the relationship between God and humankind; King and subjects, Master and slaves. But it always comes back around to family.

Sometimes God’s faithful people are likened to the bride of the bridegroom and our infidelities are then compared to adultery.

But most of the time we’re God’s children, God’s daughters and sons who bring great joy as well as great consternation.

And so, coming to God and God’s Kingdom is really like going home -to family.

In Mark chapter three Jesus’ family is either frustrated with him, or just plain worried about him. They hear that Jesus is drawing crowds again and they go to restrain him, because people are talking. Some people think he’s loony. And his family is either embarrassed, or worried of what might become of him.    

It doesn’t always end well for such people.

But Jesus doesn’t seem to mind all that much.

After all, he knows how badly it’s all going to turn out.

So what does he do?

He opens up the tent and allows everyone who wants to enter the chance to enter.

Who is his family? Those who do the will of God.                     

When you do the will of God you get the chance to be his brother,

his sister, even his mother!

Jesus’ family is an open family.

The door to the family homestead is wide-open.

And while the rest of us may bring dysfunction through the door with us and at times look like a group of misfits, the things we gain are amazing.                                        And the greatest of those things is love.

Come on in.

Join the family.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JUNE 16TH

FATHERS DAY

This week`s reflection for Fathers Day is by Andrew Kleissner, Minister of Christ Church (URC/Baptist), Ipswich.

“The attendance at our church next Sunday is likely to be rather sparse. This is partly due to a fair number of folk being on holiday (although I doubt that any of them will be going to Stonehenge to welcome the summer solstice!) But it is also because of something else: Fathers’ Day.

In the last few days and weeks several of our members have told me that they will be attending “surprise” family gatherings, arranged by their sons or daughters. I suppose that I ought to be pleased about this. For, as a Christian minister, I should rejoice that people are making the effort to maintain their familial ties in today’s fragmented society.
But I am also somewhat disquieted: not just that professing Christians are being dragged away from worship, but that they are under a growing compulsion to attend and make merry. To refuse, pleading prior commitments such as teaching in Sunday School, is considered perverse and even insulting. It is, of course, good to affirm both fathers and families. For, it seems to me, many fathers are finding it increasingly difficult to know their precise role in a world where the mother-child relationship sometimes appears to be prioritised.

But my experience is that it is getting harder and harder for people to make such affirmations – of either parent – in church. For both Mothering Sunday (a centuries-old Christian festival which originally had little to with mothers) and the more recent Fathers’ Day seem to be occasions which draw people out of the churches rather than into them.

Why should this be so? In part it is due to the incomprehension which unbelieving family members have of those who profess the Christian faith. The constant drip-feed from retailers, restaurants and the greetings-card industry also serves to emphasise the importance of celebrating these days.

But perhaps it is the knowledge that family life does seem more fragile and threatened than ever before which makes people determined to mark these occasions, however forced and phoney the jollity may sometimes be.

What a shame they don’t want to do so in church, asking for God’s wisdom and help.
 

But I wonder if there is something else, which Christians would do well to recognise? For Jesus explicitly stated that anyone who fails to love him more than father or mother, son or daughter, is not worthy to be called his disciple.

This is a message I have never heard preached in church, but it’s one which is worth thinking over. For, while there is far more to the Christian life than attending services, one must ask if we are running the danger of elevating “family” to the status of a new religion, one which we allow to make greater demands on us than Christ himself?

Ho, hum: perhaps I’m just a crusty old curmudgeon! Certainly I shall hope for a card or a call from my own son this week, and then complain when he offers the excuse, “But you always say that you don’t really believe in Fathers’ Day”!

But I do want to pose the question which, in my view, too few Christians address:

where, in the tussle between faith and family, do our ultimate priorities lie?

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JUNE 23RD

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

This week`s reflection on the gospel Mark 4 vs.35-41

is by the Episcopal priest, Rick Morely.

“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

Have you ever felt like this?                                                                                  Have you ever felt like you were sinking in a raging sea, and no matter how hard you prayed, and how intently you looked for Jesus, Jesus just didn’t seem to be listening?

Did you ever feel like you would hit the bottom of the sea before Jesus ever got around to doing anything about it? Have you ever asked out loud:                              

Why?

Why me?

What did I do to deserve this?

O God, do you even care?

Yes, me too…

So, I think that this story from Mark 4, of Jesus calming the sea, is an interesting one. And while I don’t waste any time questioning the historicity of the Gospel accounts, I want to say up front that I think that there is more going on here than Mark just recording a stormy evening in the life of Jesus.

I think that this is Mark speaking directly to the Church, to the early church and to us: There will be times when you feel like your boat is being swamped. And, when that happens, do not be afraid. Jesus does care. Jesus is there. Jesus will calm the storm.

Of course, Mark is a wartime Gospel. Written either just before, or just after, the destruction of Jerusalem—God’s people had great reason to think that they were sinking. Their whole world was crashing in on them. People were dying.

Everything that they had held holy was being thrown down. And here we have Jesus speaking to the People of God, telling them: Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?

It can’t be said enough: God never, ever, ever promises that nothing bad will ever happen. God never promises smooth sailing and blue skies every day.

If you think that God promises this, you haven’t read your Bible lately.

What God does promise is that when the world comes crashing down, God is right there with us. Jesus is there with us, in the sinking boat.

This is an important part of the story: Jesus isn’t elsewhere. He isn’t in some cushy palace somewhere eating olives and hummus.                                                            He is in the boat with the disciples. Sinking.                                                                                                             

And then he calms the storm.

So, maybe the world is crashing in on you today.

Maybe it was yesterday.

And then again, maybe it will be tomorrow.

But, whenever it does—and it’s not a matter of “if,” but “when”—whatever you think, and whatever your prayer, know that you haven’t been abandoned.

God isn’t on a lunch break.

God isn’t out for you.                                                                                                God is with you.

And all you need is enough faith to get you through to the moment   

when Jesus speaks, “Peace. Be still.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JUNE 3OTH

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

This week`s reflection on the Gospel passage Mark 5:21-43,

is by Peter Woods, of South Africa. May it be a blessing to you.

“It’s a narrative of two healings.
A dying little girl, the daughter of synagogue leader Jairus, and the no-name, hopeless nobody woman who has been that way for twelve years.

It is also a narrative of the man of power. The healing rabbi from Nazareth.
Could it be a narrative about who is most deserving of his attention?

Given the views of sickness and suffering as outcomes of God’s judgement and prejudice for the righteous in Jesus’ day, it may well have been.

If it is, then there is no contest as to who is more deserving. Jairus’ daughter wins.

She has her whole life ahead of her and anyway she is from the correct family with the correct connections. At twelve years of age, she is ready to begin being fertile and menstrual.

The woman in the crowd is a hopeless case. Already judged by the futility of her expended resources and the duration of the disease that renders her permanently unclean, she is a waste of the master’s time and his limited power. Her life is finished. In fact, the very guerilla tactic she employs by sneaking up on him under cover of the crowd to be healed, is in itself grounds for her disqualification.

With all the drama of a novel rushing to its climax, Mark inserts the older hopeless woman into the story of Jesus’ mission to heal the just girl. The old bleeding woman is an interruption and an energy thief to boot! Yet, as the story unfolds both are healed. The young and the old, the hopeful and the hopeless. There is enough time, power, compassion, and grace to go round so that no one needs be written off.

I wonder when we as selective, cozy, judgemental Christians will learn that?

We just cannot determine who Jesus should prioritize for his attention.

At times of great disaster medical personnel are trained to practice triage.

To decide who is most in need of medical attention and care.

The injured are tagged with tape.

Green for not serious. Yellow for serious. Red for critical. Black for terminal.

If Mark’s edit of the gospel tells us anything it is this…                                                 Christian, pack away your tape and labels.
There is no need for triage in the kingdom of God!”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JULY 7TH

SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Today`s reflection on the gospel passage Mark 6 vs 1-13

is by the Rev Dr Janet Hunt.

"I’m what you might call a ‘defensive packer.’

I pack for ‘what ifs' hoping to be prepared for any eventuality in terms of weather or occasion. One or even two pair of shoes might not be the right ones so at the last minute I can be found sliding in just one more pair.

For that matter, if my journey is by car, I’m not yet always willing to rely on my GPS unit alone.  As often as not I’m printing out a map to my destination as well.

Some years ago now when I needed to travel several hours away to a meeting. 

I headed out of town with plenty of time to spare, arriving at the restaurant ahead of the others.  I stepped to the counter and ordered my meal.  I reached into my purse for my wallet and discovered it was not in its usual place.   I checked and double-checked all the pockets and sure enough I was not mistaken.  Finally, I looked at the young woman behind the counter and apologized, explaining I seemed to have left my wallet at home.  I took a seat in a nearby booth to wait for my lunch companions. When they arrived, they graciously picked up the tab for lunch that day.  I called a colleague who insisted I stop by and she gave me $10 for the road.  

When I finally arrived home I found myself ever so grateful as I thought about all that could have happened but did not in that day's journey: things like a flat tire, or being stopped by the police --- circumstances in which one's wallet would certainly have come in handy.

'Traveling light' as Jesus calls his disciples to do today certainly makes no sense, does it?  Especially since it wasn't just an ordinary lunch meeting, they were headed out for.  Indeed, especially not given the potential danger Jesus was asking them to walk into.  For, in fact, we've already heard that those who had heard Jesus in the synagogue were more than sceptical about his origins and that in spite of his ability to heal, believing was beyond their grasp. And yet Jesus sends his followers out there in a state of utter vulnerability. Now it is true, of course, that you and I live in a much different time than did Jesus and his disciples.  It is true that perhaps ‘hospitality to the stranger’ played a larger role in that place and time, so it was more likely that their needs would have been met regardless of what they hadn't packed for themselves. 

It is also true that Jesus' first disciples didn’t own nearly as much as I do that I like to carry with me wherever I go.  Even so, Jesus’ words always get me thinking and for that reason I know they still speak.  Indeed, I wonder sometimes just what all of my ‘luggage’ or my 'baggage' gets in the way of me experiencing what is really needful.

So perhaps Jesus' sending the disciples out 'traveling light' makes perfect sense after all.  Maybe this is especially true when we are sent with the Good News as the disciples were --- so that both those who are sent and those who are receiving would more fully be able to receive the gifts of God.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JULY 14TH

SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

This week`s reflection on the Gospel, Mark 6 vs14-29 is by Frederick Beuchner

“One of the less offensive acts of Herod Antipas was to walk off with his brother's wife, Herodias—at least there may have been something like love in it—but it was against the law, and since John the Baptist was a stickler for legalities, he gave Herod a hard time over it. Needless to say, this didn't endear him to Herodias, who urged her husband to make short work of him. Herod said he'd be only too pleased to oblige her, but unfortunately John was a strong man with a strong following, and it might lead to unpleasantness.

Then one day he threw himself a birthday party, possibly because he couldn't locate anybody who felt like throwing it for him, and one of the guests was Herodias's daughter from her former marriage. Her name was Salome, and she was both Herod's step-daughter and his niece. As it happened, she was also a whiz at dancing. Sometime during the evening she ripped off a little number that so tickled Herod that, carried away by the general hilarity of the occasion as he was, he told her he'd give her anything she wanted up to and including half of his kingdom. Since she already had everything a girl could want and was apparently not eager for all the headaches that taking over half the kingdom would undoubtedly involve, she went out and told her mother, Herodias, to advise her what she ought to ask for.

It didn't take Herodias twenty seconds to tell her. "The head of John," she snapped out, so that's what Salome went back and told Herod, adding only that she would prefer to have it served on a platter. No sooner was it brought to her than she got rid of it like a hot potato by handing it over to her mother. It's not hard to see why.

Salome disappears from history at that point, and you can only hope that she took the platter with her, to remind her that she should be careful where she danced that particular dance in the future, and that she should never ask her mother's advice again about anything, and that even when you cut a saint's head off, that doesn't mean you've heard the last of him by a long shot.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JULY 21ST

EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Dear friends, this week`s reflection on the Gospel passage Mark 6 vs.30-34 & 53-end

is by Rik Morely, an Episcopal priest from the USA.

“After an insanely busy and draining period of teaching, and exorcising, and healing, after Jesus and his disciples had given of themselves over and over again, day after day, Jesus tells his disciples,

“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”                              

There are four distinct parts to this statement which mean something on their own and amplify each other.

Come away.

To a deserted place.

All by yourselves.

And rest a while.

Goodness gracious, do we need to hear these words today. I think we need to slow down and savour them—and hear the permission and the inherent command to rest. It will be of no surprise to anyone that our world is a crazy hectic place. With all the miracles of modern technology we are only a cell phone’s *ding* away from whoever might think they need something. Or everyone’s *dings* of need.

Come away. It’s not just “going away,” but it’s “coming away” with Jesus. Jesus isn’t an angry boss who works us from sunrise to sunset. You better believe that the church can be that boss. The church can suck the life out of anyone–lay and ordained—until we break under the weight of burnout. But Jesus is the one whose yoke is easy. His burden is light. And he is the embodiment of refreshment in the Presence of God. We need to get away from the grind of ministry, no matter our office in the church. We need to come away with Jesus.                

To a deserted place. Group retreats are great, but we also need time alone. We need to go to where there is nothing. A place deserted. Perhaps desolate. I’d even add, deserted by Wi-Fi and 5G, email and voicemail. Deserted by Facebook and Twitter. We need to recharge our batteries, with Jesus, and no one else. We have a spiritual need to get out of the trenches and be alone.             

All by yourselves. Yes, in case you missed it in the last phrase/ paragraph, Jesus really means it.

And rest a while. This isn’t laziness. It’s not a perpetual state. It’s temporary. It’s for a while. But, for that while, it’s about rest. We cannot just minister to others day by day, month by month. If we don’t rest, we won’t be able to take care of others. If we don’t slow down, we will be of no use to anyone, especially God.

So, now that we are in the midst of summer—follow Jesus. To a deserted place, all by yourself. And rest. For a day here and there. For a week. Heck, take as much time as you need. Put down the iPhone. Don’t update your status. Set the away message on your voicemail and email, and don’t even think of checking on it. For in so doing you’ll be embracing the spiritual practice of rest. And, while the rest of the world may think you’re a little crazy…you’ll be crazy in all the right ways.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK JULY 28TH

NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Our reflection on the Gospel – John 6 vs. 1-21 is by Peter Woods of South Africa.

“If I have a besetting obsession, and I have quite a few, then it is the obsession that there will not be enough. I am not one of those organised householders who never enter a supermarket without having first written a list of what they need to buy.

I tend to find myself in the aisles and then wondering what it is I need to get for the home.
So it was a few months back that each time I was shopping I convinced myself that I needed to get dishwashing liquid, only to get home and discover that I had enough.

In fact, thanks to my obsessing, I now have six bottles of dishwashing liquid patiently waiting on the shelf.

It isn’t just soap that can get me obsessing about not having enough. I can do that with just about anything from pencils to my pension fund. Will there be enough?
Every year I receive a printout from my pension fund.

It is a simple spreadsheet that shows what my pension will be if I retire at a certain age. Of course the longer I keep working the higher pension will be.

When I studied the table last year, I extrapolated that if I could keep working till I was 98 years old I could retire as a wealthy man! Will there be enough?

The miracle of the feeding of the five thousand is a miracle that addresses our fears of paucity and penury. The bottom line of the miracle is that there is always enough.

The great biblical commentator William Barclay suggested that the miracle may be simply explained as the crowd, seeing the generosity and trust of the small lad sharing his lunch, themselves being moved to pool their resources to the point of abundance and twelve baskets of leftovers. (One for every tribe of Israel).

Barclay may or may  not be correct, but however the miracle worked on a material level, a few things are clear.

Firstly, when Jesus is present there will be nourishment for all.

Secondly, simple trust and Eucharistic celebration (took, thanked, broke, gave) are key to communal kingdom living.

Thirdly, the divine providence is profligate.

There are leftovers.

It doesn’t really matter if it is dinner, dishwashing liquid or pension funds.
For lilies and sparrows, crowds or individuals,

God caters for our every need.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK AUGUST 4TH AND 11TH

TENTH AND ELEVENTH SUNDAYS AFTER TRINITY

As I will be in the USA from July 30^th until August 9^th, I am combining two weeks in one. The lectionary Gospels in these weeks have the recurring theme of The Bread of Life and so I include an appropriate reflection by Rev. Jake Morrill, Executive Director of the UU Christian Fellowship in the USA.

“In the European fable, Stone Soup, a group of soldiers arrives in a village and

asks to be fed. No one feeds them. Then, one of the soldiers in the centre of town begins to cook what he calls "Stone Soup" and the villagers begin adding what they have--carrots, celery, spices, meat.

Where before there was the understanding of dearth, now in the same place,

with the same people, there is a feast.

In the Gospel of John, Chapter 6, on the edge of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus is followed by a large crowd. He asks Philip, "Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?" Then the gospel says, "[Jesus] said this to test [Philip], for he himself knew what he was going to do."
Here begins the famous story of "fishes and loaves," in which from what seems the meagre provisions available in the crowd, Jesus distributes and distributes, until all are fed.

One can ascribe the event to a miracle, or one can recognize a parable about the economy of Jesus, in which the currency is not the material wealth to be hoarded or shared, but is instead the spirit flowing between people, such that what was not possible now is made real.

Over the last decade, there have been any number of articles on the decline of the church. Sociologists tells us that this ancient form of gathering for community and worship is no longer in vogue. That may be true. It may be that what compelled people out from their houses in former times is no longer compelling. However, to paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of the church's death are greatly exaggerated.

What is needed is not a new building or even more money. Yes, in time, those things help. But in the absence of the Spirit, those are only distractions.

With the presence of the Spirit, those gathered in love will find more than enough of what they need.

In your family, in your community, or in your congregation, how much are you spending your energies on worldly concerns? And, in contrast, how much are you inviting in and making a place for the Spirit? In the former, I believe, for all that effort, there will always be lack. In the latter, even the most threadbare community or family will dwell in abundance.
Material concerns will always seem reasonable and rational.                                        You can point at them.                                                                                              You can count them.                                                                                                You can measure them.
But the fruits of the spirit don't appear on the balance sheet.                                      They arise in your heart.                                                                                          They are found in the room when you listen more closely,                                            when you ask that bold question, when you celebrate                                                and give thanks for whatever you have received.”

Jake Morill

A Prayer

Precious God, turn our minds away
From worry about what we lack,
And fear of what may come.
Turn our minds toward what is
Already in our midst
Through You
And let us receive and partake
And be filled
And fill others
Amen.

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK AUGUST 18TH

TWELTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

It is August 18^th this coming Sunday and the lectionary continues in John`s gospel with a further passage, chapter 6 vs 51-58. Unless you are Roman Catholic and therefore a believer in what is called transubstantiation, the language about eating Christ`s flesh and drinking his blood isn’t easy to understand.                                            

I have encountered some people in my ministry over the years who have been put off receiving Communion altogether because of such imagery.                                                                                               

And so I want to share with you some thoughts by Peter Woods of South Africa, entitled,  “Cannibal or Mystical?”                                                                                Perhaps you will find Peter Woods` words equally difficult to understand,                    but I hope not. Stick with it!

“It is interesting to me that the three world religions that have the highest incidence of conflict and war are the three “religions of the book.”  Judaism, Christianity and Islam have the dubious distinction of having fought most amongst themselves and others.                                                                                                                               

As one whose initial, adolescent and subsequent experience of God has been direct and thus mystical, I think I know the reason for the conflict. Some things are just impossible to put into words. To presume to capture, or at best. describe the ineffable in language is almost impossible. The most eloquent and reasoned statement of belief is immediately vulnerable to misunderstanding and conflict.    

As I read today’s gospel, I was reminded of this difficulty with descriptions.                  Eating Jesus’s flesh drinking his blood? What on earth (or in heaven) is he going on about? Whilst having to think coherently about something to say on Sunday, I am also beginning my newest book. Yes, a real paper version, with “pages,” purchased last week at my favourite bookstore. It is by Kevin Nelson MD Professor of Neurology at the University of Kentucky and titled, “The God Impulse: Is religion hardwired into our brains?“.
At the moment Nelson is reminding me of the monumental work of William James in “The Varieties of Religious Experience“.

It is at this point that the book intersects the Sunday gospel.  Nelson is outlining on page thirty-three  the four qualities that James listed for mystical experience.

If like me you are grappling with the cannibalistic communion that John’s gospel is describing, these four qualities may help.

According to William James a mystical experience has the following qualities:                                                   

1. It is somehow beyond language.   

2. It imparts knowledge that is above normal human understanding.

3. It is of brief duration.

4. The person having the experience is passive.

The first statement above is key to the text this week. The encounter Jesus is describing does, in a sense, defy description. That is why he uses the profound language of mastication, ingestion and absorption.

To even begin to take this language literally would be disastrous.
This is exactly the problem the religions of the book have. “Literalism is idolatry” or so says the British Philosopher Owen Barfield.  To expect the already challenged language of our beloved mystical religions of the book to yield literal, utilitarian instruction manuals is not only silly, it is downright dangerous.

So I hope this Sunday, not to explain this gospel passage in any way.

I hope not to give my hearers easy recipes for action.

I hope only to immerse them in the mystery that Jesus is intimately masticable, ingestible and absorbable in ways that defy understanding but which can be life transforming.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK AUGUST 25TH

THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

This week`s Gospel is John 6 vs 56-69 and with it we come to the end of a series of Sundays focusing on bread and the Bread of Life. 

The following reflection is by Rev Amy Allen, an ordained minister in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.

“In my church we often greet the reading of the gospel lesson with the words “Lord to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” When the Gospel text is “easy” these are equally easy words to say.  Who wouldn’t want to retreat into the arms of the Good Shepherd?  To drink of the font of eternal life?

John’s gospel is replete with splendid imagery of the saving power of Jesus, so much so that it can be easy to wonder how the disciples could have even considered turning away from Jesus, even at the cross.  

But here we are, still a far cry from the cross and Jerusalem, long before the last supper and the cock’s crow, and rather than the masses that we’ve grown to expect to see coming out towards Jesus in droves, we are told that many who were following him turn away from Jesus en masse.  How could this happen?  What motivates those who leave?  And what’s more, in the face of such harsh words–of inevitable tribulation ahead–what motivates those who stay?  These are the politics of today’s gospel text.

No more and no less than the in groups and out groups that elections create today, the Jews in first century Palestine were trying to align themselves with the right candidate. Those who were anxious for reform (both religious and political, as these two went hand in hand) would follow and even support out of their own (often limited) livelihoods the person–in this context, always a male–whose platform best aligned with their own.

And so, Jesus had many followers because he proclaimed a new hope and healing for Israel.  As I asked already above, who wouldn’t get behind that kind of candidate?!?

But, of course, ‘pie in the sky’ dreams do not an instant reformer make.  In order for him to command a following, people also had to believe that Jesus was capable of the job.  This is what the first part of John’s gospel is about recording the signs that Jesus performed so that we might believe.                        

But even this combination of confidence in his agenda and belief in his ability is not enough, as today’s gospel illustrates.

There are plenty of people in this world with whom I can agree on basic political strategy.  Some of those people I even have confidence might have the wherewithal to get the job done.  However, that doesn’t mean that I am going to spend my personal resources or wager my reputation backing any of them in an upcoming political race.  Why not?  Because as agreeable as they are, even as right as they may be, I am not convinced that they have what it takes to win.

Perhaps a similar doubt is what motivates many of the disciples who turn away from following Jesus in the gospel text today.  What he is predicting doesn’t exactly sound like a winning end game after all.  Maybe for some the stakes were simply getting too high, or the pay-off too far down the road.  Whatever the case, they leave–they turn away–and I imagine they have good solid reasons behind them.  It is the rational thing to do.  So, why then, do some followers remain?

One almost gets the sense that Jesus is wondering this very thing himself, if his question is not set up to test the disciples who choose to remain.  “Aren’t you going anywhere?” he muses aloud.  To which the Peter responds, “Lord to whom shall we go?”  For those who believe this is where some of the parallels begin to break down.  Jesus isn’t just one candidate among many.  He isn’t a reformer they can choose to support or from whom they can choose to withdraw as it becomes politically expedient.  He has “the words of eternal life” and at least in this moment, these disciples understand that, easy or not, like it or not, their lives and their hopes are tied up with him.

I wonder how often today we are willing to make a similar claim.                           

How often do we cling to Jesus as our hope–hard words or not?                              

Or, how often, do we turn to and away from Christ and his gospel as it is politically expedient to do?                                                                                                      How often do we try with the masses to find an easier lord to serve?

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK NOVEMBER 24TH

SUNDAY BEFORE ADVENT

THE FEAST OF CHRIST THE KING

This week`s reflection on the Gospel passage (John 18 vs.33-37) is by Karoline Lose, Professor and the Marbury E. Anderson Chair of Biblical Preaching, Luther Seminary, Saint Paul, Minnesota.

“My kingdom is not from this world,” says Jesus. That seems pretty obvious.

Yet at the same time, this has to be one of the most obscure statements from Jesus. Working for Jesus’ kingdom, praying for “thy kingdom come” is a rather difficult endeavour when it seems so far away from the reality that we know and in which we live. The kingdoms of our world could hardly be more opposite than the kingdom Jesus has in mind.

What kind of kingdom does Jesus propose? Unlike Matthew, Mark, and Luke, kingdom language in John is rare, used only here (John 18:33-37) and in the conversation with Nicodemus (John 3:3-5). Interestingly, Jesus’ reference to kingdom in the Gospel of John comes up in dialogue with those who represent the kingdoms of Jesus’ present-day world.

As a Pharisee, Nicodemus represents the kingdom of the Jews.

As a Roman procurator, Pilate represents the Roman Empire.

It seems that the kingdoms of the world as it was known back then are called into question by Jesus who is the `Word made flesh` loving the world (John 3:16).

It is not sufficient on Christ the King Sunday simply to suggest that the negative aspects of today’s kingdoms are therefore made positive in Jesus’ kingdom.                God’s kingdom is not opposite of our kingdoms, it has to be more than — it just has to be.

In the face of sheer horror, peace seems impossible (Revelation 1:4).

In the face of senseless violence, imagining the absence of terror seems hopeless.      God’s kingdom looks so very far off on these kinds of days, in these kinds of moments, in this kind of world. Working for God’s kingdom feels like a rather futile determination. It’s not just an up-hill battle, it’s unfeasible, even ridiculous to think that our efforts and energies can turn a world around into the world God sees it can be. It is beyond hard to believe that we can stand up against the unacceptable, but we have to believe it — we just have to.

While God’s kingdom will come regardless because it’s God’s after all, Revelation reminds us that Jesus “made us to be kings” (according to the Greek; not “a kingdom,” Revelation 1:6).

And since we have been made to be kings (and queens) of God’s kingdom,

it is our calling to work for that kingdom and not for those kingdoms of this world.

It is our calling to strive for different.

It is our calling to bring about “thy kingdom come”

even with the promise of God’s kingdom coming.

Of course, part of the challenge in all of this is the penchant to limit kingdom to location. This is when the “reign of Christ” is a helpful corrective for this Sunday, not just for the sake how we talk about Jesus and the titles we give to Jesus, but for the sake of realizing that Jesus’ kingdom is a state of being, a way to live, a commitment to a particular way to view the world.

And in John, Jesus wants us to see that his kingdom is only about place,

if place indicates the profound and intimate “place” of relationship with God.             

Jesus’ kingdom is not about amassing additional amounts of control.                          Jesus’ kingdom is not about his ultimate rule over and above others.                      Jesus’ kingdom is about relationship.

“My kingdom is not from this world” because it is from God.

Pilate attempts to construe the boundaries of Jesus’ kingdom in terms of those perpetuated by the kingdom to which he is beholden. But Jesus’ kingdom is from God, just as Jesus is from God (John 1:1) and Jesus is God’s kingdom. The concept of kingdom is radically recalculated in the Gospel of John, from kingdoms that strain and sever relationships to a kingdom that puts relationship at its core. That’s a whole different perspective on kingdom.                       

When kingdom is construed from the truth of relationship and not rule,                      from the truth of incarnation and not location,

from the truth of love and not law, then Jesus as truth will ring true.

This is the truth that the kingdoms of this world cannot see. God’s truth.

Jesus as truth. But it is the truth that we can see and that we are called to preach, that we have to preach, not only on Christ the King Sunday, but every Sunday.            To love fiercely even in the face of fear.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK DECEMBER 1ST

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT

This week`s reflection on the Gospel for the First Sunday of Advent

is by Mark Davis Pastor of St. Marks Presbyterian Church in Newport Beach, CA.

“Into the jingly music of the Christmas season bursts the first gospel reading of Advent. For good or for ill, “Black Friday” shoppers know how the imperative voice and the anticipation of waiting go together, having just heard the threatening lyrics,

“You better not shout! You better not cry!

You better not pout; I’m telling you why!

Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Luke’s presentation of Jesus’ words also has the imperatives of keeping watch:

“Stand up and raise your heads! Look at the fig tree! Be on your guard! Be alert!”

It seems absurd to draw a parallel between the song and the gospel,

since the stakes are so disproportionate between being on Santa’s ‘naughty or nice list’ and the fate of the world. But the form is uncannily similar:

Keep watch; he is coming; you will be accountable.

Yet, while the imperatives of the gospel show that one must be waiting, anticipating, keeping watch, it is not exactly clear how one goes about waiting or what it means to keep watch.

If there are portents in the heavens, with people fainting from fear and foreboding, one hardly has to be an informed insider to discern that something world-changing is taking place. So, the question seems to be how one watches faithfully.

To that question, the text offers two responses, one negative and one positive.

The negative response in verse 34 is not to be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, so that that day does not catch one unexpectedly. That seems a curious warning for an event that is cataclysmic and as dire as verses 25-26 indicate. Who in their right mind is going to be so distracted by partying or worrying about the chequebook ledger that one misses out on the roaring seas, distress among nations, and shaking powers in the heavens?

The incongruity between the apocalyptic proportions of verses 25-26 and the distractions of verse 34 indicate that the imperatives are the key. Weighty, earth-shattering, apocalyptic events are not evident to the distracted. So, the first rule of waiting is not to be distracted.

The positive response for how to keep watch is in verse 36. But one must exercise caution here. While the translations all read the preposition of being alert as, “praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man,” the preposition for praying here is not the same verb that one finds in other ‘prayer’ texts of Luke’s gospel.

It is not the verb that describes Jesus praying and then teaching the disciples how to pray in chapter 11 or when Jesus prays in the garden just before his arrest in chapter 22.

The verb Jesus uses here could be translated as “beg,” such as when a man delivered from demons begs Jesus to let him follow or when a desperate father begs Jesus to rescue his son from a destructive spirit.

The verb deomai denotes a desperate urgency, rather than a pious discipline. “Beg for strength to escape; beg for the ability to stand,” that is the manner of waiting that this text commands.

The apocalyptic waiting of the Advent season, then, is torn between avoiding rudimentary distractions and living with desperate faithfulness in a world where God is at work. And as disparate as those two options sound, they describe perfectly the dynamics of Advent.

In a world where environmental destruction is heating the planet and bringing threats of drought to one corner of humanity, we are invited to “Tech the halls” with new and improved gadgets.

In a world facing the worst refugee crisis of the modern era, we are invited to focus on a “war on Christmas” over red coffee cups.

In a world where terror chills the heart in one moment, pumpkin spice warms the body in the next.

The challenge of this text for preachers is not to play the killjoy of a season that is filled with genuinely good tidings. But it is a call to keep the faithful alert, not distracted by lists and jingles, but called to give desperate attention to what it means that God is at work in the world, even in the most despairing of events.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK DECEMBER 8TH 

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

I have adapted a reflection on this week`s Gospel - Luke 3:1-6 by David Lose.

“I just love Luke’s audacity!                                                                                    He is, as you probably know, of all the Evangelists the one who identifies most self-consciously as a historian. (Not a twenty-first century historian, mind you, but a first century one!)

For this reason, Luke writes a formal introduction to his Gospel, the only one of the four to do so. This also explains Luke’s concern with naming various political leaders on the scene in Luke 2:1ff. and in today’s reading. As a historian, he wants to anchor the events he describes in the larger political and historical scene of the world. And that’s where his audacity comes in. Because, quite frankly, most other historians would probably think Luke is crazy.

Consider: John the Baptist is an itinerant preacher doing his ministry out in the wilderness – you know, the place nobody goes, at least not by choice. And so the “event” Luke describes would hardly count as an event at all to other historians.

So what’s John doing among Luke’s veritable list of “who’s who” in ancient Palestine? Well, according to Luke, John – a “nobody” by all other historical accounts – just happens to be the one to whom the Word of the Lord came. John. Not the Emperor, or governor, or various rulers, or the high priests of the day, but John.

God chose a nobody, in other words, to prepare the way for God’s own Son to come amongst us. And that happens to be a particular theme of Luke that might be worth identifying for our folks: that God regularly chooses people whom the world sees as insignificant through whom to do marvellous things. John the Baptist, Mary the illiterate unwed mom and teenager, the no account shepherds at the very bottom of the economic ladder who serve as the audience for the heavenly choir. Again and again, Luke confesses, God chooses people the world can easily ignore to participate in God’s world-changing, world-saving activity.

Which gets me thinking. Because I suspect that there are any number of people who feel that they don’t hold any particularly important position that would warrant being included in anyone’s “who’s who list” and yet whom God may be eager to use to do wonderful things. Might we therefore encourage one another to the possibility that we don’t have to be celebrities or rulers or among the rich and powerful to be used by God? Might we remind each other that God is eager to use our talents and abilities and gifts to change the world, if even in what seems like very small ways that are, of course, not small at all to those who receive such gifts? Might we call people to see God at work through their relationships, jobs, family and civic life and more to make this world more trustworthy and good?

If so, then we are each called, I think, to be audacious historians in the pattern of Luke. We are each called, that is; to remind each other that God is at work in and through our lives for the sake of the world God loves so much.

How about, after reminding one another that God is in the habit of using ordinary people to do extraordinary things, we read our own recitation of world and regional leaders, placing our congregation at the end of that list.

In the twenty-fourth year of the twenty-first century, when Charles III was King of the United Kingdom, and Andy Burnham was mayor of Greater Manchester, and Elizabeth Sweeny Smith was the President of the Congregational Federation, the world of the Lord came to Walkden Congregational Church!

Part of the job of the Church is to help people see God present in their lives and at work in their activities. And this might be a great week to do that, as each of us has the potential to be a local “John the Baptist,” a veritable nobody to whom the Word of the Lord came and through whom God prepared the way for the coming Christ so that, indeed, all people might see and receive God’s salvation.”

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK DECEMBER 15TH

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

This week`s Thought is based on a reflection by Karoline Lewis.

“The people were filled with expectation” (Luke 3:15).

What are your expectations? Do you expect to be safe? Do you expect more than a week might go by before another mass shooting is reported? Do I expect that by the time this is posted I will hear about more shootings, more terrorist attacks, more bombings, more senseless death? I do. Sadly, I really do.

Expectation is a double-edged sword, as they say. It can be full of anticipation. But it can also weigh you down so much that there is no possibility in sight of burying out.

Expectations are complicated. They frequently seem beyond the possibility of being met, and so the following quote might ring true: “One day, she realized that she could never please everyone, so she gave up and decided to be herself. Whether other people liked it or not was not her business,” Anna Taylor. Depending on what they assume, expectations can generate a sense false optimism, even despair, because they seem too good to come true.

Expectations are heavy. They are frequently lodged outside of ourselves and beyond our control. And we tend to equate expectations with hope. That becomes perilous, because we often do not acknowledge or are able to articulate in what the hope is based. Then, of course, there are those expectations that are placed on us. Those we cannot meet, either because they are not fair or because we resent trying to meet them. Phrase expectations as you need. You need to be able to articulate them on your own terms because otherwise they are set for you. Always.

Expectations are dangerous. They elicit hope when there’s no ground to believe in hope. They cause us to strive for that which is not us, for that which is placed on us. They are set in place without acknowledging the truth of the contexts that make them often impossible to achieve.

But expectation now has reached a different kind of importance and urgency. We expect safety. We expect kindness. We expect grace. We expect tolerance.                And what happens when expectations are shattered again and again?

How do you cope?

We live in a clash of worlds.

Perhaps that has always been and likely that always will be.

But how do we deal with these painful intersections of what we want and what cannot seem to be?

How do we manoeuvre through these junctions of expectancy and reality?

How do we negotiate these convergences of war and the angels’ proclamation of peace?

We need to name the expectancy of expectations and the grief that results when

expectations are not met.

We need to think about where and how and why what we expect cannot end up coming to fruition because it’s not grounded in any kind of perceivable or conceivable reality.

We need to be honest about the feelings of dashed hopes, grounded or not, when expectations continue to go unfulfilled.        

We need to negotiate the varied truths of expectations, both of the world in which we live and the world God wants us to know and experience.

Here is the theological promise this week — that people are able to give witness to God’s truth in the face of the systems that try to suppress their truth; that those who believe in the world-changing gospel according to Jesus are able to testify to this gospel even in the face of resistance; that along with many other exhortations, the good news will be preached (Luke 3:18); that our human expectations are not God’s. And God’s expectations, unlike ours, are founded on and grounded in God’s met promises.

If we ever wondered if we really needed Advent, it is certainly now.

Advent names and exists in the tensions identified above.

Advent claims God’s expectations in the face of the world’s false ones.

Advent says we can have expectations of God and God will meet them,

because with God all things are possible.”

THOUGHT FOR CHRISTMAS DECEMBER 22ND AND 25TH

This reflection for Christmas, based on Luke 2:1-20,

is by Rev Janet Hunt, a Lutheran Pastor in Illinois, USA.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time — if not altogether original.

It has been my practice for many years to ‘build the creche’ with the children during the children’s sermon during Advent.  

One week we add the animals.

The next week the angels join them.

Pretty soon Mary and Joseph arrive and not long after the baby Jesus and shepherds and the three sages from the East arrive last of all.

The order is not perfect, of course, but it is one way of bringing the story home.

Every year I have also tried to have something to send home with the children to remind them of what or who had been added that week.

Some years they would receive an inexpensive ornament every Sunday.

Other years I would get more creative.

This year it was decided that we would have each child put together a puzzle of the nativity scene, adding the pieces each week which would roughly correspond with what we added together on Sunday morning.

And so it is that I have spent a little time each week putting puzzle pieces into plastic bags. It has not worked perfectly, of course.

Advent began on the Sunday after Thanksgiving so attendance was light and the next week, we wound up giving out two bags to most of the children.

And then there were those who missed the second week and we had to scramble to be sure each child got whatever pieces were missing from their collection so far.

Even with the confusion, it has worked out all right though and they do seem to be excited to be collecting and putting all the pieces together.

It was not until just a couple of days before the fourth Sunday in Advent when I came upon a problem. For you see, as I was separating out some of the final pieces,

I realized that while the pieces will actually fit fine, there is an issue with how they were cut in correspondence with the picture in the first place. Or maybe not.

It’s likely most people are not using these puzzles in just the way I am.

In fact, I’m sure one would not notice unless all the ‘like pieces’ got mixed up together and you did as I did the other day and randomly put some of them together. For look closely here.

Do you see how Mary actually has three eyes in this picture and the sheep’s chin is just a little off? (And  yes, I know there is a whole lot more wrong with this picture in terms of historical accuracy. Truly, I will try to do better next time)

And yet, it strikes me now that this is how it always is.

You and I are who are called to bear this story to the world again — well, we do our very best to bring it home in a way that is meaningful to those who gather.

And while we hope and pray that this ancient story will be heard and received as the wonder that it is, we know that our offering is likely always less than perfect.

But perhaps even this helps bring the gift of Christmas home to us once more.

For there was and is, only One who was perfect, of course.  

And yet somehow it is so that by God’s grace and gift, Jesus still gathers up all our mismatched pieces and turns them into something beautiful — whether it is in this re-telling or in all the ways in which we are called to bear God’s love and grace and kindness and hope to a world which is so very hungry for the gifts of God which have been entrusted to us.

Will we ever get it completely right? Most likely not.

But then, that is why Jesus came, isn’t it?

Because of our brokenness, our fear, our despair, our inadequacy, our sin.

And yes, it is so, that I am a little worried about how this will come across when our children finally get all those pieces put together this Advent/Christmas season.

Will they notice that Mary has three eyes or the sheep’s chin is off or any other number of anomalies in the finally completed picture which are likely to be there, too? Or will they be able to see beyond my meagre attempt to share the story with them to the central truth of Jesus coming to us as a tiny baby out of great love for them and for all of us?

So no. I expect we will not ever get it completely right.

But that cannot keep us from trying. Because the wonder of Christmas is that it is finally not about us, but about who God is and what God has done in coming to us as one of us. For us and for all the world, of course.

However imperfectly we point to that, the promise is that Jesus will somehow make it enough. At least that is what I’m counting on again this year.                                   

May God’s rich blessings be yours as you seek to share the gifts of Christmas once more! May your efforts to tell this story again be blessed by grace and promise and joy. And may you be blessed, in turn, as the story is told by you and to you and for you as well!”

Minister ~ Rev Alan Kennedy 07733153203 01612703296 alanrk1690@gmail.com