I wrote to my MP…

I have, of course, written to MPs before. Always I try to avoid party political bias and keep it courteous but even so I am clear when I do so that I am writing as an individual, not in my capacity as a parish priest. Not, however, on this occasion…

To Sir Robert Syms, MP for Poole.

Dear Sir Robert,

I am writing to you, not as an individual with a political opinion but in my capacity as a parish priest, to express my dismay at the Government’s response to the extraordinary liberties that Dominic Cummings took with the clear directions that we should stay home during the height of the lockdown.

Of course he, and the Government if they choose, can make a defence based on a legalistic and biased interpretation of the small print but by doing so they only add insult to the offence.

As a priest I have not been able to visit the sick or dying. I have prayed – by phone – with those who are prevented from being with loved ones or with grand children. I have conducted funerals with close friends and family absent. I have had to risk my own safety in order to assist homeless people and accompany them to be able to access hostel accommodation provided by the Local Authority. I have prayed, and celebrated the Eucharist, each and every morning on behalf of all who are deprived of the sacraments and their regular  spiritual support. This and all that I have done is as nothing compared to so many others, many of them, like me and the church from which I minister, reliant on small incomes and facing an economic black hole. We have all done these things without question for the good of our country as a whole with no thought of political parties or personal opinions.

Now, the Government by its indefensible partiality towards an un-elected advisor has effectively declared that we are all of us fools. Clearly, if we had followed the Government’s present logic, we should – instead of following them to the letter – have interpreted the Government’s directives in ways that we might consider reasonable  based on our family or personal preferences and needs, even when that entailed making inessential journeys to other parts of the country.

Because, for the first time in my ordained ministry, I am writing to an MP in my role as a parish priest I will share this letter to our church’s social media. I will be glad of course to publish your response equally.

With my prayers – often – for you, and for our other elected representatives at local level, I remain,

Yours sincerely,

Fr Philip Martin

Vicar of St Aldhelm’s, Branksome, BH13 6BT

Looking further than we can see…

La homilía en las Misas en la iglesia de St Aldhelm, Branksome, el domingo 24 de mayo, 2020. Versiones en español y en inglés.

The address given during the Eucharists celebrated at St Aldhelm´s, Branksome, on Sunday 24th May, 2020. Spanish and English versions.

El jueves pasado celebramos la Ascensión de Cristo. Por este misterio, ‘la vertical del cielo atravesa el horizonte de este mundo y la gloria de Dios brilla alrededor de nosotros.’ Esta metáfora se demuestra en las torres y las agujas de muchas iglesias, que nos llaman mirar más lejos que podamos ver.

 

Pero después del milagro en la colina con los ángeles y el nube, los discípulos volvieron a la ciudad, a Jerusalén, al apartamento arriba donde vivían con María, otros parientes y amigas de Jesús. Allí, rezaron juntos y esperan el venido de su Señor, que ocurrirá en el don del Espíritu en Pentecostés.

 

Pero, durante esa época, todavía tenían que hacer las compras y las tareas de casa. Me gustaría imaginar que los discípulos – hombres jóvenes – los compartieron los hechos de casa, pero no sé… No obstante, a pesar de la Ascensión que junta el cielo con la tierra, por cierto necesitaron continuar vivir en el mundo con sus necesidades y exigencias.

 

Para nosotros también debemos vivir como habitantes de dos mundos. Nos moramos en este mundo terrestre pero a la misma vez tenemos nuestra ciudadanía en el paraíso de los cielos. Los santos tienen la capacidad de estar con los ángeles mientras limpian los platos pero para mí esto es demasiado difícil.

 

¿Qué puede ayudarnos en este reto? ¿Qué puede fortalecernos cuando la vida es difícil? ¿Qué puede animarnos en faz de los desengaños y los sufrimientos que sufren  tanta gente?

 

Primero, pienso que la honestidad es imprescindible. Quizás tenemos un Señor de los señores pero todavía somos seres humanos, no magos, ni ángeles. Luchamos como otros, nos cansamos, nos debilitamos, y nos fracasamos como otros – y a veces más que ellos. Honestidad además uno con otro. Por eso el ambiente de nuestra fraternidad significa mucho. Hace unos meses empecé un grupo para los hombres. Somos solamente cuatro porque después de unas semanas el lockdown nos previno expansionarlo y reunimos actualmente por Zoom. Pero creemos que es necesario, un lugar abierto, honesto y confidencial. Entonces, le pregunto: ¿tiene usted un lugar de honestidad y realidad? Si no, necesítalo?

 

Siguiente, oración, o meditación, o cualquier cosa que le ayuda alcanzar una perspectiva más larga, arriba de la vida cotidiana, la vida insistente. Para mucha gente, esta época de lockdown ha sido una oportunidad, bienvenido o no, de enfocar otra vez, una oportunidad de pensar y rezar y contemplar. Pero lo necesitamos esto siempre. Este templo ha estado aquí durante toda la historia de este zona urbana, como símbolo de la oración y de la presencia de Dios. Creo que en esta temporada la gente lo necesita más que nunca. Entonces, pregunto, ¿tiene usted un lugar, un espacio, una oportunidad de pensar y reflexionar? ¿Si no, necesítalo?

 

La Biblia nos apoya también. No tiene respuestas sencillas para las preguntas más difíciles. No puede explicar el sufrimiento de los niños, la crueldad de la humanidad. Pero por medio de la Biblia nos acompaña otra gente de todos tipos que han pasado antes, con su errores, su ira, sus fracasos, sus pecados, su amabilidad, su esperanza, su fuerza, su flaqueza – cada uno, como nosotros, pecador e hijo de Dios. Sea nuestra morada en el corte de un rey, o en el bar de Eastenders, la gente de la Biblia nos acompaña y revela a nosotros nuestros sueños y nuestras pesadillas, nuestra realidad, y nuestra posibilidad. Pregunto: ¿puede usted acceder a la Bíblia? Entiendo que no es fácil, pero me gustaría ayudarle si sea posible.

 

Enfocar en Jesús nos da esperanza y compasión. El mundo – como usted, como yo – necesitamos esperanza y compasión. Jesús crucificado ha sufrido y ha muerto con y por este mundo entero. Jesús resucitado ha vencido el poder de la muerte y el oscuro de desesperación. Jesús ascendido ha llevado nuestra carne en los cielos, para que podamos tener esperanza en medio de los problemas terrestres. El Primado de la iglesia episcopal un los EEUU ha dicho que la iglesia es sencillamente el Movimiento de Jesús. Estamos en camino con Cristo. La estructura de la Iglesia, sea la iglesia católica, anglicana, evangélica, es necesario y servicial pero no es lo más importante. Lo más importante es la presencia de Jesús. Pregunto: ¿en este momento, se parece a usted que Jesús está cerca o lejos de usted? No hay respuesta correcta. Pero creo que si le decimos a él, nos ayudará.

 

Paradojamente, creo que las capacidades lo más importantes, que Dios ha plantado en nosotros humanos, son ellas de reír, y de llorar. Por eso, cuando visito – no, cuando visitaba antes de la crisis… – los enfermos en el hospital y la gente en las casas, me gustó firmar una tarjeta de saludos con un dibujo sencillo: una cara sonriendo pero con unas lágrimas en uno de sus ojos – porque por las lágrimas y las épocas difíciles…el amor crece más profundo.

 

Que Jesús crucificado, resucitado y ascendido los acompaña en su camino, en su soledad y en su vida familial y en su trabajo (o en su falta de trabajo…) Que se ríe con ustedes y que lloran con ustedes, para que puedan ustedes comparten risas y lágrimas con las personas que encuentran ustedes en su camino.    Amen

 

On Thursday we celebrated the Ascension of Christ. ‘The verticality of heaven pierces the horizontal of earth and the glory of God blazes round us.’ This metaphor is reflected in the towers and steeples of many churches that seem to summon us to look further than we can see.

 

Following the miracle on the mountain top and amid the cloud, however, the disciples returned to the city, to Jerusalem, to the upper floor flat where they lived with Mary, other family members and women friends of Jesus. There, they prayed together and awaited the coming of their Lord, something that occurred 10 days later (as we measure it in our church calendar) in the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

 

No doubt throughout this time they would have had to resume all the usual household tasks, the shopping and the cleaning. I like to imagine that the young, male disciples shared all those jobs, but I don’t know… But what is clear is that despite the Ascension that joins heaven and earth, for sure they had to keep on living in this world with its demands and challenges.

 

We too must live as inhabitants of two different worlds. We dwell in this earthly domain, yet at the same time we are citizens of heaven. True saints have the ability to be with the angels even while they wash the dishes, but for me this is too difficult.

 

What might help us in this challenge? What is able to strengthen us when life is tough? What can encourage us in the face of the disappointments, and the suffering of so many?

 

First, I think that honesty is essential. Maybe we do have a Lord of lords but nevertheless we remain human beings, not angels. We struggle just like others, we get tired, weak and we fail just like others – and at times perhaps more than others. Honesty too one with another. For this reason the quality of our fraternity, our community, matters a good deal. A few months ago we started a group for men, called Fellaship. There are only four of us because after the first few weeks of meeting the lockdown came and prevented us convening, and from expanding even if others had wanted to come and see. But we meet meanwhile on Zoom and we believe it is a necessary, open space where we can talk with honesty and in confidence. Do you have a place of honesty and reality? If not, do you need one?

 

Next, prayer, or meditation, or whatever enables you to gain a perspective on the domination of each day’s concerns. For many this time of lockdown has been an opportunity – whether or not a welcome one – to pray and contemplate. We need something of the kind constantly, however. It is in part for this reason that this holy building has been here throughout the history of this urban area, as a symbol of prayer and the presence of God. I believe that in this present period we need such a reminder more than ever. Do you have a regular place, or a time, to help you pray?

 

The Bible supports us as well. It doesn’t provide simple answers to our difficult questions. It cannot explain satisfactorily or clearly why children suffer, nor the cruelty carried out by people against people. But by means of the Bible we find ourselves in company with those before us, with their mistakes, their anger, their failures, their sins, their kindness, their strength, their weakness. Be our domain within a King’s court or in an Eastenders’ bar, the people of the Bible accompany us and reveal to us our dreams and our nightmares, our reality, and our possibility. Are you able to engage with the Bible? It isn’t easy, I know! But I and others would be glad to help if you ask.

 

To focus on Jesus lends to us hope and compassion. Jesus crucified has suffered and died for this world in its entirety. Jesus risen has defeated the power of death and the darkness of despair. The ascended Jesus has lifted our flesh into the heavenly realm, so giving us hope here among our problems on earth. The Primate of the American Episcopal Church has said that the church can be simply described as the Jesus Movement. We are on the road with Christ. The church’s structure, be it Roman Catholic, Anglican, Protestant or whatever, is necessary and useful but is not the most important thing. What matters is the presence of Jesus on our pilgrimage, our daily journey within this world. Do you feel close to, or far removed from, Jesus? There is no correct answer to that question, but I think that if we are honest with him then he will find a way to help us.

 

Paradoxically, I believe that the most important capabilities that God has implanted in us humans  are those of laughter and tears. As a result, when I visit – or used to visit, before these days of social distancing and shielding – the sick in hospital and people in their homes, I used to sign a greetings card with a simple drawing: a smiling face with some tears falling from just one of the eyes, because though the tears and the tough times…love grows deep.

 

May Jesus crucified, risen and ascended accompany you on your journey, in your loneliness and in your family and with your friends. May you know his laughter and tears joined with yours, so that you can share the tears and laughter of those whom you meet along the way.    Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Una procesión de amor…

La homilía en la Misa en español, en la iglesia de St Aldhelm, Branksome, Poole, el domingo 17 de mayo, 2020.

The homily from the Eucharist celebrated in Spanish on Sunday 17th May at St Aldhelm’s, Branksome, with a translation into English following.

Juan el evangelista es un poeta, artista, como Mozart, Shakespeare, Picasso – o Cervantes. Tiene la capacidad de ver cosas que otra gente no puede ver. Se dice en inglés, to think outside the box ‘ – en español, no sé: pensar fuera de la caja, pensar creativamente. Su historia de Jesús es muy antiguo (contemporáneo con los otros evangelios, dicen muchos de los expertos) y confiable, pero más que los otros evangelistas Juan utiliza un estilo original y un mente imaginativo.

 

Para Juan, nuestra relación con Jesús no es estático, siempre es dinámico: volveré a ustedes…estoy en mi Padre, ustedes en mí y yo en ustedes…el Espíritu habita en ustedes y estará en ustedes… Para él, estamos en camino con Jesús, y con el Espíritu, y con el Padre. Nuestra relación con Dios no es fija, siempre evoluciona, siempre desarrolla, como la relación con nuestros amados, pera aún más.

 

Si, necesitamos los Credos, como un andamio para apoyarnos, pero la realidad de la vida en Cristo es más misteriosa, más profunda, más exigente, más maravillosa. Somos invitados entrar en una relación que siempre nos cambia, nos ensancha, que cada día viene como un regalo inesperado que nos da esperanza infinita.

 

Por eso, Juan y los teólogos de la iglesia antigua describen a Dios como Trinidad, siempre en movimiento, una procesión de amor en lo que podamos nosotros vivir y crecer.

 

Por eso también necesitamos explorar y encontrar a – y encontrarnos en – la Biblia. Es un libro de auto descubrimiento, en la Biblia encontramos a Dios – y nos encontramos a nosotros como pecadores, como hijos amados, como amigos en Cristo.

 

Por eso también necesitamos recibir el sacramento de la Eucaristía porque aquí (normalmente…) no solamente escuchamos, no, participamos en realidad en la cena del Señor, y compartimos en su vida, en su muerte, en su resurrección, en su amor que nos entrega como su propio cuerpo y su propia sangre.

 

Y por eso necesitamos rezar y meditar porque la vida cristiana no es cosa de palabras, es una manera de vivir, más ampliamente, una vida generosa, agradecida, dolorosa a veces pero aún más amorosa.

 

Que el Padre, y el Hijo y el Espírito Santo moren en nosotros y que nosotros vivemos por y en este misterio, este movimiento de amor, que es nuestro Dios.  Amén.

 

 

The Address for the Eucharist in Spanish, Sunday 17th May 2020

 

John the Evangelist is a poet, an artist, such as Mozart, Shakespeare, Picasso – or Cervantes. He can see things that others cannot. As we say in English, he is able ‘to think outside the box’ – I’ve no idea how to express that in Spanish! He thinks creatively. His account of Jesus is very early (more or less contemporary with the other Gospels, think many of the scholars) and reliable, but more than the other evangelists John employs an original and imaginative mind.

 

For John, our relationship with Jesus is never static, it is always dynamic and changing: I am in my Father, you in me and I in you…the Spirit lives in you and will dwell in you… For John, we are always on a journey with Jesus, and with the Spirit, and with the Father. Our relationship with God is never fixed, it is evolving always – just as is any relationship with those we love, except more so.

 

Yes, we need structures such as the Creeds to be for us a kind of scaffold to support us, but the truth is that life in Christ is more mysterious, deeper, more demanding, more amazing. We are invited to enter into a relationship that always changes us, enlarges us, that each day comes anew as an unexpected gift that gives us unlimited hope.

 

It’s for this reason that John and the earliest Fathers of the church describe God as a Trinity, always in movement, a procession of love in which we are able ourselves to live and grow.

 

For this reason too be must explore and encounter – and encounter ourselves within – the Bible. It is a book that reveals to us God and in which we are revealed to ourselves as sinners, yes, but also as beloved children and as friends of Christ.

 

For this reason as well we are drawn to receive the sacrament of the Eucharist because here (under what we should still call normal circumstances…) we do not simply hear about, no we truly participate in, the Lord’s Supper, and share in his life, his death, in his resurrection, in his love that he gives to us as his very own body and blood.

 

And for this reason furthermore we need to pray and reflect because the Christian life is not a matter of words, it’s a way of living, more fully, a life that is generous, thankful, painful at times but, even more, a life of love.

 

May the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit dwell within us and may we live in and through this mystery, this giving and receiving of love, that is our God. Amen.

‘Yo soy el camino, y la verdad, y la vida…’

El texto de mi sermón para la Misa transmitido en vivo desde la iglesia de St Aldhelm, Branksome, Poole, el domingo 10 de mayo 2020. La lectura del evangelio fue Juan 14, 1-12. 

My homily during the Mass in Spanish, Sunday 10th May, followed by an English translation.

Mis hermanos, yo sé que la homilía mía no es muy útil para ustedes, por mi falta de fluidez en español. Me pregunto si sería posible en el futuro, después de la crisis de Corona, cuando reunimos otra vez cara a cara, que otra gente entre ustedes pueda ofrecer homilía o reflexión en la Misa. Pero, en este momento no hay otro predicador, ni aún mi gatito, y entonces debo hablar…

 

En verdad, el evangelio de hoy nos informe que el sermón no es lo más importante. Ni aún el sacerdote, ni la iglesia. Cristo es lo más importante, y su evangelio es más elocuente que cualquier sermón.  Cristo nos dice que Yo soy el camino, y la verdad, y la vida…

 

La prueba de nuestro camino cristiano es Cristo Jesús: ¿damos ayuda a los pobres, o no? ¿Luchamos contra injusticia, o no? ¿Perdonamos los pecados de los otros, o no? ¿Amamos a ellos que nos hacen daño, o no? Porque si no perseguimos el ejemplo de Jesús, no estamos en su camino, a pesar de nuestras palabras o nuestra asistencia en el templo de la iglesia.

 

Pero la iglesia, y la fraternidad de los pecadores que somos, todavía tiene importancia, más que nunca. En este mundo de aislamiento (y creo que esta temporada de aislamiento por Corona virus nos da cuenta que el mundo antes de la crisis fue muy aislado por dinero, temor, orgullo y injusticia…). En este mundo de aislamiento, necesitamos una solidaridad que abraza toda la gente, rico y pobre; negro, latino, gringo, de cualquier tipo; los mayores y los jóvenes; los heterosexuales y los gais; los fuertes y los débiles; los felices y los oprimidos: una fraternidad diversa pero unida como peregrinos en el camino con Cristo. Entonces, necesitamos una iglesia que nos anima y nos apoya en este camino: una iglesia, come dice el Papa Francisco, humilde y penitente, alegre y esperanzado.

 

Que Dios los bendiga y los proteja y los anime en su camino en esta temporada difícil, y que sepan ustedes cada día que Cristo los acompaña. Amen.

 

English translation

My brothers and sisters, I realise that my address is of limited use to you owing to my inadequate mastery of Spanish. I wonder if in future when we can again meet here in church after this crisis is past, whether some others from among you could offer a homily or reflection during the Mass. But for now there is no one else to preach, not even my little cat, and so I must speak…

 

In truth, today’s Gospel reading makes clear that no sermon is all that important, and neither is a priest, nor even the church. Christ is the only essential, and his Gospel is more eloquent than any sermon. Christ Jesus tells us that ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life…’

 

The proof of our walking the Christian way is Christ Jesus. Are we helping the poor, or not? Do we protest against injustice, or not? Do we forgive the faults of others, or not? Do we love those who do us harm, or not? Because if we fail to follow the example of Jesus, then we are not followers of his way, no matter what words we proclaim nor how often we attend church.

 

Nonetheless, the church, and the fraternity of sinners that we are, are more important than ever. In this world of isolation (and I believe that this period of isolation due to Corona virus makes us realise how isolated was our previous world due to money, fear, pride and injustice…) In this world of isolation we need a solidarity that embraces all people, rich and poor; black, white, latino or of whatever racial background; the elderly and the young; straight and gay; the strong and the weak; the happy and the desperate: one diverse family but united as pilgrims in the way of Christ. Thus we need a church that encourages and supports us in this way of Christ, a church that, as Pope Francis says, is humble, penitent, joyful and hopeful.

 

May God bless and protect you in your journey during this difficult period, and may you know yourselves each day to be in the company of Christ.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finding our way

I think John was a maverick and a poetical type. That’s John the Divine, the writer of the Gospel, not John the Evangelist, he of the wild demeanour and limited cuisine. The latter was maverick too but in a very different way.

 

If we cast a general look at all four Gospels, Mark’s small volume packs plenty of punches. It opens with Jesus as an adult, proclaiming the Kingdom of God, and the narrative drives on with few words wasted until its main focus appears in the Passion account. If Mark was your doctor he wouldn’t faff around, he’d tell you straight how long you’ve got.

 

Luke, however, was a real, actual doctor. A family General Practicioner rather than a research specialist. Luke is all about people, whole people, people in the round. Lepers, the poor, foreigners and most of all women – all categories of people who didn’t feature much in people’s accounts in those days – here are central and key to understanding and telling the story of Jesus.

 

Matthew takes the bull by the horns. He knows the back story through and through: the ancient writings, the early and late prophets, the rabbinical traditions, the Roman reality of rough justice and corruption. He’s seen it all – and he has seen Jesus– amid the pressing and depressing reality – as the key to unlock the way into God’s kingdom of justice and mercy.

 

But John is another kettle of fish entirely. He thinks outside the box and he sees things from a different angle and with a unique perspective. Brilliant and unique, the Picasso or Mozart of the New Testament generation. We know that Jesus was especially close also to Peter and James and he must have relished the impetuous whole-heartedness of one and the youthful zeal of the other. But it was John who leaned intimately against Jesus’ side at table and who asked the difficult questions the others daren’t. And it was to John that Jesus from the cross entrusted the care of his mother, thus initiating the church as not so much an association as an adoptive, inclusive family.

Interestingly, John doesn’t recount many of Jesus’ parables but instead his Gospel shares a similar quality to those parables: he leaves us to puzzle out the bewildering paradox, the apparent contradictions that so often are the only way we may describe or apprehend profound truth.

 

There are some examples in today’s Gospel reading. ‘In my Father’s house there are many rooms.’ It’s clearly a metaphor but for what exactly is not made clear. It seems to me though to evoke a generous space within God into which we can all somehow fit and still feel at home. I think as I read those words of this building from which we are currently exiled, with just me as a lonely priest to keep the flame flickering, awaiting its real occupants, all of you. I think of its generous size as I celebrate here each morning and look up and picture the parish beyond its west wall and I sense that Christ is here indeed exactly because he is there with you and with all through this time of crisis.

 

‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’ That triple metaphor: way, truth, life. It works both ways. If you find a way forward in your life, if you discover anything that is truth-filled, or anything life-giving – then you have by John’s beautiful logic also found Jesus, even if not, usually, by name. Consequently, your experiences of life, truth and a living way to God are also encounters with Christ who is incarnate in Jesus. So a phrase that some will interpret as a narrow exclusion of all from salvation other than the minority who evince a faith in Jesus of a narrowly defined type may also be read and received as a narrow gate, a paradoxical invitation into a big and generous understanding of God who is accessible to all.

 

‘If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.’ The assertion is at one level clearly absurd. I can ask all manner of implausible or impossible things but doing so ‘in Jesus name’ will not make them happen. So instead we are led to wonder what it might truly mean to ask anything at all in his name. In John’s Gospel there is frequent play on people’s identity being unknown but then revealed through Jesus. The adult cured of his infirmity does not know Jesus’ name when quizzed by irritated religious officers. The Samaritan lady says, in wonder, how come you know everything about me? Mary Magdalen on Easter morning does not recognise him – until he speaks her name. When Jesus expresses the absurd statement that ‘if in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it’ perhaps one response might be to wonder how I might slowly progress to a point where I can with at least a grain of real understanding ask something in his name – because to do so presumes that I know him at least a little in the way that he knows me, that I know his name in some small way like he knows mine. I guess our whole Christian life is a practice so that we can learn to do as adults what children can do more naturally, to learn our own names as spoken by Jesus and to speak his name as our newly and late discovered soul friend.

 

Prayer is in large measure a rehearsing of others’ names so that one may learn one’s own – and learn how to inhabit Christ’s. I know that I, for all my almost 36 years of ordained ministry, have only just begun this blessed adventure of discovering my name and learning his. I sometimes think that is why some of us are called to priesthood, because some of us we are the slowest to get the idea of being God’s children and so God risks setting us loose among good parishioners such as yourselves trusting that they will do their priest more good than, we all hope, he or she can do them harm. In the best arrangements both sides benefit, thanks be to God. But if the worst comes to the worst, try to remember that Christ is bigger than the Church and therefore surpassingly more important than any priest, even one far more on it than me,  and we should not confuse his Gospel with my or anyone’s sermons. Remember, it is Christ who is the way, the truth, and the life.

 

I hope that that this period of being dispersed may awaken in each one of us a hunger for our true home in Christ, may help us speak anew his name and hear ours as spoken by him, may give us a nostalgia for a God who first cradled us in love at our baptism perhaps long ago, and who longs to do so again now. And if we can collectively find our way back into those arms I believe we will find hope and strength and joy and that this experience of exile and isolation, inconvenient for some and tragic and desperate for many, may yet draw all of us closer to our Father and to our Lord.

Just remember

This is the text of my sermon during the Mass live streamed from St Aldhelm’s, Branksome, on Sunday 3rd May 2020. The readings for this fourth Sunday of the Easter season reflect the theme of ‘Christ the Good Shepherd’: Acts 2, 42-47; Psalm 23; John 10, 1-10

 

The image of Jesus as the good shepherd is very familiar but deserves a little unpacking. My initial reaction is that I’m not sure I want to be likened to a sheep. I’m very fond of them. I and my family raised a great many orphan lambs during my previous life as a country vicar. I have known them each by name, played with them, nursed them through sickness, buried them when as happens they drop dead for no known reason – and of course I’ve enjoyed eating my fair share of them. But if I was a sheep I would resent being tagged, and corralled in a field and manoeuvred by a dog. And I would certainly object to being sent to the butchers and returned as joints for the freezer and then the vicar’s dining table.

 

In response to my qualms, a bit of agricultural context will take us some little way towards a better appreciation of the Good Shepherd theme. In our climate zone we are used to seeing sheep pastured in fields or more extensively on the fells of the uplands. If you travel to Spain or Palestine or any Mediterranean country, though, you see a different context. There, you can see, and hear by the jingling bells of the older animals, flocks of sheep, often mixed with goats, that roam fairly freely through olive groves or wild and unfenced landscapes in the remote countryside or amid the outer industrial estates of towns. There the sheep are free to roam and yet are always in touch with their shepherd who will be watching or dozing (or as like or not these days texting or live streaming) nearby and letting them know by a call or whistle when it’s time to move on. The sheep are unconfined and free but yet if they know what’s good for them they will choose not to roam too far from their shepherd, or as many other languages would say, their pastor.

 

In such an environment the sheep are not usually herded by the dogs, whose main role was once to fend off predators and which these days provide the shepherd with company – and some amusement by barking and snarling at passing walkers. Instead the sheep follow and the good shepherd is one who knows all his or her sheep by name and puts their welfare and safety above his or her own comfort and convenience.

There is another bit of – Biblical – background that may deepen our understanding of the good shepherd theme.

 

Sheep feature a lot in the scriptures and not only because they were an agricultural staple. There was that time when Abraham felt compelled to offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice to God when, at the last, his hand is stayed by the sheep caught in a nearby thicket. Isaac, his beloved, is spared to become the father of our faith and the sheep is killed in his stead. You will also recall the lambs we reasonably enough imagine the shepherds bringing to the stable at Jesus’ birth. And we might remember too the options available to Mary and Joseph when they presented their baby in thanksgiving to God in the Temple: they could sacrifice either a lamb or (the poorer families’ and therefore their choice) two young pigeons. Then at the last, at his crucifixion, we see Jesus killed at the time of Passover when all around lambs were killed to remember the blood of sheep that marked and protected the portals of the Israelite people from the avenging death of God’s angel.

 

Thus, Jesus is both the Good Shepherd but also the sacrificial Lamb of God, the beloved Son whose heavenly Father does not stay his hand, and all for love of you and me.

 

Jesus, the Good shepherd, and the sacrificial Lamb of God. And ourselves, the flock in his care, the sinners on whose behalf the lamb is killed.

 

To anyone among you who is lost and alone (even when that is in plain sight, still smiling and keeping company – the worst kind of loneliness); to anyone who is lost in grief, or anxiety; to anyone who is isolated and whose cries go unheard; to anyone who is lost amid compulsions and addictions that they are powerless to overcome; to anyone whose guilt, or shame, or resentment, or envy remains gnawing at the soul like a cancer; and to anyone whose illness separates them from friends and lovers and even the most caring of nurses can only smile from behind a protective mask and touch you through plastic gloves. I believe that for each one of you and for me there is a call to be heard, amid the wild place in which we are lost, a call distant perhaps but persistent and coming towards us, a call carried on the breeze or amid the storm – and yes, we did hear correctly though so faintly, the voice is calling our name. Even amid the valley of the shadow of death, there his hand will lead me and bring me home.

 

So the Church, this flock, this community of humans who have all human faults and failings and then some, is in simple truth the gathering shelter for those who have been lost and are found. If we can remember and hold on to and own both of those ascriptions we find that the church is also the most remarkable vehicle of love and redemption and hope for the world of which we are part. Just consider the church as Luke describes it in this morning’s first reading, where they shared their needs and their surpluses. A community of prayer and of thanksgiving and of generous and life giving fellowship. Such is our calling, but only if we remember that we are always the lost, and always the found, can we hope to be such a community of hope and helpfulness for those around us.

 

We can be such a community, not because we have resolved all our problems, raised all the money, repaired and re-ordered all the buildings, re-structured all our committees and re-energised all our communications and re-thought goodness knows what else (and probably for good measure, replaced the vicar…) It’s not a renewed makeover that we need. Instead we simply need to remember Christ the Good Shepherd, and the sacrificial Lamb of God, who lays down his life for the sheep. We need to remember as we do each time we break bread in remembrance of him. We need to remember as we do each time we pray for one another. We need to remember as we do on each occasion we confess our faults, or forgive our enemies, or feed the poor, or visit the sick, or care for the downcast, or laugh or cry with others as they need and deserve us to. Then our church can truly and visibly be through us what it truly and actually if less clearly is despite us: a community of those who are lost and are found and are following our Lord who is both the Good Shepherd and the Lamb of God.

O Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us…