Happy New Year

Happy New Year!

 January takes its name from Janus, that god of the ancient world who looked both ways.

Sometimes we are encouraged not to look back too much and maybe the words of St Paul ring in our minds when he talks of forgetting what is behind.  And yet, wasn’t it Jesus who encouraged us to do this in remembrance of me?  So, scripture is a bit like Janus, depending which bits you read it encourages us to look both ways.

Surely life is always a balance of the two.  Too much looking behind and we get stuck in the past.  Yet plunge headlong into tomorrow, with no thought of the journey thus far, and we are liable to make the mistakes of yesterday once more.

It’s easy for the future to scare us with all its uncertainties, and maybe even our new diaries unsettle us with empty pages as we wonder what will come up and fill the days of 2023.

However, I’m not sure those pages are totally empty.  I’d rather think of them as the spaces we have yet to occupy but in which God is already present, waiting for us.  God beckons us into the future with the promise to walk every step beside us, so that every day is full of his love, light, peace and hope.  God greets us as we step into tomorrow with the word welcome.  The future is possible, and we don’t have to face it alone.

Travel well into 2023 as you take the hand of God and walk into a New Year.

Christmas: Us?

 

Where does God’s light beckon us?

The light that beckoned Mary has given us The Magnificat, a hymn of praise that leads on to song of radical social justice.

The light that beckoned the Magi led them on a journey to something new.

The light that beckoned the Shepherds offered them encounter and affirmation, the like of which they had probably never experienced.

The light that beckons us….fill in gaps and complete the sentence.

The unifying factor in all the biblical stories is that this beckoning light led to Jesus, the Light of the World.  It shone not so much on an idea but on a person, a life and a story.

This is the light that takes me to Jesus and his life affirming presence with us.  The Incarnation.

I love the story of Washington Roebling, the architect New York’s Brooklyn Bridge.  Its design was considered a triumph in 1870 and it made Roebling one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the city.  The bridge’s expanse was so long that the pylons holding it up had to go much deeper than usual.  So the men were submerged below the river in something called caissons, a watertight chamber filled with compressed air.  There they dug, and even exploded rocks.  In these caissons men got sick with Caisson Fever, or even died from flooding or fire.  Washington Roebling spent the first two years of the construction of the bridge down in the caissons with his men.  Not behind a desk but in the caissons.  He never asked them to do what he himself wasn’t prepared to do.  In the end his health failed too – he gave his all.

God’s Incarnation in the Lord Jesus Christ and expressed today through the gracious presence of The Holy Spirit with us daily, makes life possible and makes life a joy.  God comes among us, that’s the promise of Advent, the centre of Christmas and our experience each new day.

In his Advent hymn, There’s a light upon the mountains, Henry Burton has these beautiful lines at the end of verse 3:
but his angels here are human,
not the shining hosts above,
and the drum beats of his army
are the drum beats of our love.

God’s light is shining now and calls for our response – for the drum beats of our love.

Advent 4: The Shepherds

 

Ah, the Shepherds.  Perhaps my favourite characters.  The light beckoned them to hurry down to Bethlehem, even with the song of the angels ringing in their ears as they made their way.  Grown men, maybe rough men who found themselves kneeling before a new-born, and doing so with new understanding.

But why make shepherds the first visitors in the narrative?  Well, maybe there is something radically subversive in this pastoral scene?

In Jeremiah God says the nation’s kings should rule like good shepherds.  A shepherd king is devoted to the flock, the nation.  A shepherd king cares for every sheep and in looking out for the one that is lost shows devotion to the minority as well as the majority.  Jeremiah is under no delusion; kings are rarely as good and faithful as shepherds. 

Perhaps we should recommend a reading from Jeremiah at next year’s Coronation?  And in that letter, that I will never send to the organising committee, perhaps I should suggest that instead of a mighty, diamond encrusted sceptre, our new Sovereign might do well to be invested with a simple shepherd’s crook.

I don’t think the authorities in Jesus’ day much cared for Jeremiah and his notion of a Shepherd King.  Like countless power conscious leaders since, they clung to the trappings and privilege of their office and by their actions and decisions showed they no longer went out looking for the lost sheep or personally lay across the entrance of the pen at night as the sheep’s faithful protector.

So, this part of the Nativity might be far more subversive than it first appears.  The shepherds are back!  And in his life Jesus will model what it means to be a Good Shepherd, and that will challenge a lot of people in palaces and in power.

And then, secondly, in looking at these shepherds I rejoice in their thoughtful and deliberate inclusion.  Because they were often side-lined.  Their work was hands on and those hands became dirty.  It meant that on occasions they were even excluded from temple worship.  Yet here they are given ringside seats at the Incarnation.  How ironic.  How wonderful!

Once again we shout: The shepherds are back!

The late Queen said she found Nelson Mandela the most inspiring leader she’d ever met because of his complete lack of rancour.  He knew what it was to live as the outsider, so after his release from prison he spent the rest of his life making people, all people, sense they belonged to a Rainbow Nation.

Yet, amazingly, that sense, that principled ethic of inclusivity, was part of his life even under arrest.

Mandela loved the Sunday Morning Communion Service in the prison chapel.  Whenever he attended and heard the prayers, he said he felt the warmth of millions of people as if they were smiling at him.

One Sunday, he noticed the guard Christo Brand had taken off his cap during the first part of the service.  Mandela asked if he was a Christian, he said he was.  And then Mandela did something wonderful, he insisted that Brand joined him at the altar and together they received bread and wine.  Father Alan Hughes who took that service at Pollsmoor said it had never crossed his mind to ask the guards to join in.  Yet it took this prisoner, Nelson Mandela, to offer out a hand of reconciliation to his guard and say we are both welcome at the Table of the Lord.  And what light must have shone into the chapel as he did so.

The shepherds are back – reminding us of faithful service and hospitable inclusivity.

Advent 3: The Wise Men

 

T.S.Eliot’s poem Journey of The Magi begins:
‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter’

It more than hints that at times this journey was tough and maybe these camel riders began to wonder if following the light which was beckoning them was really worth it.

Exploring faith can be demanding. 

Some of us may have just ‘slipped’ into Christianity, the product of Sunday School or home tradition.  Others might have had all sorts of ups and downs in their journey to baptism, confirmation or simply being part of a congregation – or not being part of one.  And most of us still feel ‘The Lord has yet more light to shine upon his word’.  Faith ebbs and flows, takes multiple turnings and constantly seems unfinished, always, always ‘A work in progress’.

The Magi are the outsiders in the Christmas narrative.  In a story so bound up with a specific culture, they blow away all the expectations; they broaden its meaning and deepen its relevance.

Faith, and those who seek it, often surprises us.  It’s expressed by unexpected people and found in unexpected places.

On the Sunday after the Queen’s passing, seven ‘extra’ people attended our Morning Service saying they just felt they needed to be in church that weekend.  During the Pandemic I heard from an ex-pat doctor living in Austria that she had tuned into our church’s podcast service every week – having found us by accident, feeling she needed God in those bleak days, she stayed with us every week until the podcast ended.

This beckoning light takes us on a journey, over moor and mountain ‘following yonder star’.

The Magi, who followed the star, are ultimately a bit of a Christmas mystery.  They are exotic, unexpected and simply ‘outside the box’. 

Some suggest they might have been Zoroastrian Priests, with a reputation for star study and fortune telling.

Zoroaster, Persia’s primary prophet, said he himself was the result of a virgin birth and, like Jesus, he began his ministry aged 30.  He predicted that others would be born, just like him, and instructed his followers to seek them out.

I think I probably grew up in a church that really felt it was the custodian of truth.  My church frowned upon ecumenical engagement because, I suspect, they didn’t really believe the church down the road was actually Christian – at least their version of Christian.

Well, I’m fifty years older now!  And I prefer to think of myself not as a Keeper of the Truth, as if I could ever put God in a box because he needs protecting, but as a Seeker after Truth.  God has that disturbing, yet exciting habit of jumping out of the box.

The light can and does beckon us on – to further journeying, further exploration, further questions and further encounters.  It can be messy, deeply disturbing, gloriously liberating, often confusing with a growing sense that we are on a task that never finishes.  God’s light, beckoning us forward on an ongoing journey of discovery.

One Epiphany, whilst living at Malvern, a group of us met up for supper and a play reading evening, based on Dorothy Sayer’s A Man Born to be King.   I was given the part of Balthazar and had the privilege of reading his wonderful response to meeting the infant Christ:

Do not ask me; I spoke like a man in a dream.  For I looked at the Child.  And all about him lay the shadow of death, and all within him was the light of ,Ife; and I knew that I stood in the presence of the Mortal-Immortal, which is the secret of the universe.

Perhaps that is it!  That the ultimate response to all the asking of questions isn’t watertight, scientific and dogmatic answers,; the ultimate response toa  journey of faith, one beckoned by light, is worship.

Advent 2: Mary

 

The light that beckoned Mary, at The Annunciation, was not bathed in a mellow, reassuring glow.  Rather, it was a light, (one, we are told she willingly responded to), that led her into a life of challenge.  She, undoubtedly, lived it with deep love and faithfulness, yet her heart was pierced as with a sword.

In her day, so young and unwed, she became something of a scandal in out of the way Nazareth.  In ours, I suspect, the Safeguarding Officer would be contacted.  I find it increasingly difficult to romanticise this part of the Christmas Story away.  She is so young, at times so alone and often the challenges before her seem truly overwhelming.

Which makes her life of faithfulness even more inspiring.

Many of us have made vows and promises at the start of some great endeavour.  I suspect, whether they were vows made at our wedding, baptism, confirmation or ordination we made them with great sincerity.

Upon hearing her call, as the light beckoned her into a new and truly amazing future, Mary said: I will’, and became the handmaid of The Lord.  We are so thrilled the story doesn’t stop there.  As the years unfold, she cares for her son: at the Wedding feast in Canaan, she told the steward to do all Jesus told him.  And on Good Friday, in the absence of so many disciples, she keeps watch at the foot of the cross.  Loving, faithful and true to the end.  Mary kept her vows and fulfilled them completely.  She does not just begin well, she ends well.

The light that beckoned Mary was not soft, warm and gentle.  It was one that led her into a life of great challenge and personal sacrifice.

Mary lived in that conundrum of the Kingdom of God being both ‘now’ and ‘not yet’.  As a Jew she would have rejoiced in the stories with which she grew up of a homeless people, once slaves, wandering in the Wilderness, then finding a God given home.  Yet, her generation knew the reality of occupation by the Romans.  And Mary, as a young girl whose pregnancy was misunderstood, knew what it was to be personally and hurtfully marginalised.  The words of The Magnificat were never mere theory from her lips.  She knew the reality of every syllable.  She was part of the oppressed and downtrodden, she lived in that space between the Kingdom’s ‘now’ and ‘not yet’, a space we can only occupy with faith.

Yet, she believed.  Yet, she trusted.  Yet, she sang.  Yet, she loved.  Yet, she kept on turning up!

Advent 1: The Journey

 

A few thoughts as our Advent journey begins.

I don’t know about you but I sometimes drive the car and end up at my destination without any detailed memory of the journey I’ve just done, especially if it’s one I do very often, like driving to church.  It’s as if I’m on automatic pilot.  Maybe I’m listening to the radio as I go along, or perhaps I’m planning next Sunday’s sermon in my mind.  So, I get to my destination, the church car park say, and I’ve barely noticed my journey. I can almost hear Rachel, my wife’s reaction to that confession: Well, that just explains your driving!

When I walk to church it feels so different.  I start off at the Manse and notice the neighbours, I cross the road and go over the railway bridge looking at the tube trains making their way to Baker Street, I’m now outside Tesco Express and if it’s lunchtime 150 students from our local Grammar School will also be there buying lunch, it’s then a walk up the high street, a nod to our neighbouring church of St Michael’s, make my way over the Zebra crossing, trying to always remember to be polite to the car drivers who have stopped, especially if I’m wearing my clerical collar, and then in, via the back door of Amersham Free Church. A ten minute journey in which I’ve probably met, noted and encountered 10 different people or events taking place that have made an impression on me. 

 Such a different journey walking to driving, because I’ve noticed so much more.

Advent, these next four weeks is often thought of as a waiting time, and in many ways that’s a good understanding, especially in our impatient society.  Yet, the idea that Advent is primarily about waiting can imply that nothing of too much importance will happen between Advent Sunday and Christmas Day.  Maybe viewed like one of my car drive experiences, just a journey of convenience, no more than just getting me, perhaps rather mindlessly, from A to B.

I’d rather look forward to the gift of these next four weeks and Sundays as a walk, instead of a drive.  A journey when much might, and probably will happen.  And in that sense, I tell myself this morning that Advent is just as much about watching as it is about waiting.  Watching is active.  Watching is being open to the whispers of God.  Watching is about becoming engaged and available.

So, as we start our Advent journey, rather than ask Sunday by Sunday ‘Are we nearly there yet’, let’s take time to notice the journey and enjoy the discoveries found round every corner along the way.

Stir Up Sunday

 

This coming Sunday, the one before Advent, is sometimes referred to as Stir Up Sunday, and  there are two reasons for this.

The first is liturgical and the second, perhaps more interestingly is culinary!

The traditional Collect for Sunday begins with the phrase: Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people…

In terms of cooking this weekend is considered a good time for all home bakers to make the Christmas Pudding and give it a good stir in the process.  Originally a meat-based pudding eaten either before or alongside the main course on Christmas Day, it was made into a meat free, dried fruit based sweet pudding introduced into Britain from Germany by George I in 1714.  As well as stirring, other traditions surround the most important pudding of the year such as: mixing it from East to West in memory of the journey of The Wise Men and using 13 ingredients, representing Jesus and the twelve apostles!

Stir Up Sunday – it has a nice ring to it.

Of course, we all get stirred up about particular things; whether it’s faithfully shouting support for our favourite football team or just passionately standing by our family and friends through good times and bad. 

I think of the stirrings and passions of God.  Of the Holy Spirit brooding over the waters in the Creation Story, stirring up life and bringing it to birth.  Of Jesus whose passion for love and justice stirred up so many people, and not all of them on his side.

To call someone a stirrer today isn’t usually considered to be the kindest thing to say! Yet, we need people who get stirred up. Passionate people, full of convictions and energy to make positive changes in our world.

And we need that stirred up spirit in us too.  Keeping us passionate about loving our families, supporting our friends and playing our part in our community.

So, have a happy day on Sunday – and keep stirring!

War isn't normal...is it?

 

Well, I suppose you could argue the exact opposite; that war is, in fact, very normal.  Although Western Europe has been blessed by decades of peace since WWII, other conflicts have proliferated and, of course, since February Ukraine has dominated our thoughts and prayers.

It seems to me that when conflict so cruelly interrupts life, one of our very natural responses is to try to re-create, in some small way, a sense of normalcy around us.  The Revd Tubby Clayton, a WWI chaplain did this at Talbot House, in Belgium.  In those bleak days he started what became known as Toch H; an upstairs room that became a comforting ‘home from home’ for soldiers so far away from loved ones.

I saw a snippet of a BBC report a few days ago of a family from Ukraine who, when the bombs are falling on their town, crouch in the kitchen with their young daughters and together make bird song noises.  By re-creating a beautiful sound – one that used to be so normal - they seek to distract their daughters, so they don’t hear the abnormal noises of destruction outside.

Two thoughts regularly come into my mind around Remembrance Sunday.  Firstly, I note, with appreciation, the quiet and sincere dignity surrounding our commemorations.  Indeed, during my college years in London I twice attended Remembrance Sunday at The Cenotaph and will always recall the deep emotion upon hearing the massed bands strike up Elgar’s Nimrod.  Then, secondly, I think of the truly horrific opening scenes of the film Saving Private Ryan, set at the time of the Normandy Landings.  I’ve never managed to get passed the beginning of this film because of its graphic and truthful betrayal of the brutality of war.  Yet, for all that I think, if I were a history lecturer, I might make it required viewing for my students – with the hope that such an honest depiction may guide future generations not to go down the same avenues as previous ones.

So, I really do want to say, and to believe, and to strive for a world where war isn’t normal and should never be seen as inevitable.  It is the prayer I will be praying in my heart at 11 o’clock this Sunday as we salute, with gratitude, all those who gave their lives so that I, who have lived all my life in ‘freedom’, can write a blog such as this.

A Picture of Joy

 

Photos are important to us during this Season of Remembering.

During this time of All Saints and All Souls Tide, we held an In Love and Remembrance service at church.  People attended who had held funerals here over recent months, or whose loved one’s service I had had the privilege of conducting up at The Crematorium.

Whilst tea was served after our time in church, one lady, whose husband’s service I had taken, was keen to walk me down the corridor and show me a lovely picture of her husband as a young boy in our Sunday School many, many decades ago.  It was part of a display of archive photos currently in the Carey Room celebrating 60 years of our present building.  There he was, sitting with his Sunday School class at a trestle table in the old church hall.  This picture was a precious window into the reality of the past and it was good to linger in front of it together.

I’ve often heard people say that if the house caught fire the most important commodity they’d run out with would be the family photo albums.  Indeed, one friend even told me recently that for years their albums lived in a cupboard by the front door for that very reason. 

The first photo portrait, actually it was a selfie, ever taken was in 1839.  I was amazed it was so early in the nineteenth century.  By then photography had moved on enough for Robert Cornelius from Philadelphia, to take a self-portrait.  It had to be done in the open, to catch enough light, with the shutter being held for a whole minute – so no blinking!

Over half term we visited Vienna and on Austria’s National Day we went to Schloss Belvedere on the outskirts of the city.  It was once an Archduke’s palace and is now an art gallery.  Back in 1955 it was the venue for the signing of the State Treaty that gave Austria back its independence after the country was occupied by the Allied Powers after the Second World War.  There are lots of impressive photos of the dignitaries attending that seminal moment in Austria’s modern history, yet the one I remember most in the exhibition was of the crowd looking up to the balcony as the State Treaty was brought out and held aloft for all to see; it struck me as a picture of such joy.  A snap shoot into the soul of Austrians in 1955 as they stood with immense hope on that first day of their new republic.

November offers us this season of remembrance with both All Soul’s Tide and Armistice Day held in the first half of the month.  The pictures we have in our minds will carry a mixture of emotions because life is made up of light and darkness.  And maybe the most precious images we carry in our hearts will not be of great public occasions, but small intimate moments shared between family and friends when love went deep and joy felt tangible.

And as every driving instructor will tell you, we look back (not too long and not too short) so we can go forward with confidence, knowing more precisely where we are on our journey. 

Humility

It’s been mentioned once or twice recently that when it comes to public service, whether in the King or Prime Minister, humility is an asset. Well, I think it’s an asset for all of us.

 I suspect that humility sometimes gets a bad press and is often interpreted as weakness. Yet, even the most principled advocate of a particular idea can surely benefit from an open mind and the concept that more light and insight can dawn on any of us.

 Uriah Heap, in Dickens’ David Copperfield mistakenly called himself ‘umble’. In truth, he was anything but; instead, he was a scheming and power-seeking individual hiding behind a false persona.

 Humility often lets the light in as we glimpse the possibility of another viewpoint or opinion other than our own. Humility creates space for dialogue and, for Christians, helps us see Jesus in others.

 None of this devalues our beliefs and convictions, but can end up deepening and expanding them.

Blog Holiday next week

October's View from the Pew

 

Here's October's View from The Pew

https://viewfromthepewsabbatical.blogspot.com/2022/10/

It's from the old we travel to the new

 

Last weekend a section of our morning congregation ‘re-created’ the procession of our forebears, 60 years ago, who walked from the site of AFC’s former building in Sycamore Road to the opening service at the new church here on Woodside Road.  It was a particular joy that three or four of our walkers last Sunday were part of the original group six decades ago.

So much has changed in that time.

Autumn, like all the seasons, is a time of change.  Keats called it a time of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Yet, less romantically, we might also point out it’s the time of year for plummeting temperatures, shorter daylight and falling leaves.  Animals are starting to grow thicker coats in readiness for winter, alongside squirreling away hidden food supplies for the days when nature’s cupboard will appear temporarily bare.

All of this begs a few questions in my mind about both the nature of God and faith.

We often say, and I suspect we find it a comfort, that God doesn’t change.  We say that, I think, believing it to be a good thing.  Indeed, there is even a biblical text describing Jesus as the same, yesterday, today and forever.

Well, even though there are other texts that hint of a God who does respond to situations in a more fluid way, such as the Old Testament story of withdrawing judgement on an infamous city because just a few people of faith were found within its walls, there is no doubt that the Bible presents us with a image of God which is utterly dependable and encouragingly reliable.  A God who always loves, always hears and always offers us grace, hope and peace.

The challenge is greater when we come to ourselves, because for most of us, faith is rarely consistent.  We go through dry times and seasons of doubt.  Yet, ironically, these moments often make us who we are and give us a deeper understanding of life and the part faith plays in it.

Change is all around us, and within.  Today we live at a time of immense transition at both the palace and in parliament.  We are entering a season when the colours, smells and temperature of each new day takes us just that little bit closer towards the ending of the year.

So, what were we about last Sunday, walking from the old to the new, replicating the procession of AFC church members six decades ago?  I believe we were both holding on to tradition – after all just like them we were walking to church, a place where, together, we gather to sing God’s praise and listen out for his word.  In that sense nothing has changed in 60 years.  Yet, within the tradition, within the lectionary and liturgy of our services, there is change every week.  We come, Sunday by Sunday, with different needs, different joys and at different stages of our lives.  And into all this continuous change we seek to discover afresh eternal truths and constant ideals that will help us make sense of the world.

Being a person of faith isn’t about having a fossilised set of rigid values, it’s about constantly exploring how the wisdom of the ages can touch our life and the life of our world TODAY.  It’s about being part of a living tradition.

Here’s how the American Presbyterian minister, The Revd Dr Mark Sandlin so helpfully puts it:  A healthy spiritual life is about constantly striving to grow into a more compassionate, more caring person who offers their unique gifts in the service of a larger whole.  That is impossible without change.  Change offers us the possibility of growing beyond our current limitations into the fulness of our divine potential.

So, for once I think we can, and indeed should, have it both ways.  We can be people of faith who, at one and the same time, love tradition and embrace change.

Happy Birthday AFC building

 

And so we have come to the last day of a momentous September.

Sixty years today, on 30^th September 1962 (which happened that year to be a Sunday) the then members of Amersham Free Church took possession of their new church building on the corner of Woodside Road.  They marked their momentous day by holding Morning Service in their old Sycamore Road chapel and then, at 4pm, they walked in procession from the old to the new.  That afternoon they met first in the church hall for a service of dedication, followed by a ‘cup of tea’ (although I think it was much more than that!), before finally entering the Sanctuary for the first time where they held Evening Service.  The next Sunday, once all the visiting dignitaries were no longer around, they held a Service of Infant Baptism in the morning and one of Believer’s Baptism in the evening.

These were obviously great days, full of hope.  So, this weekend we recognise their sacrificial giving in raising funds for the construction of the present-day AFC, alongside their faith to build bigger and embrace the future in a spirit of confidence.

We’ll celebrate on Sunday by re-creating that walk from the old to the new, holding morning service at which we receive in two new members and then having church lunch together.  This week Michael has assembled a really fascinating montage of pictures and leaflets from around 1962 charting that very special period.  It’s in the Carey Room and will stay up for all of October – if you get a chance pop in and have a look, it’s great!

And then there’s a cake -of course there is!  AFC loves a cake and we so appreciate Sara’s skill in baking them.  To celebrate our Diamond Jubilee in the building Sara has made a wonderful Bowl and Towel cake.  She has put so much thought into this and it reminds us that at the centre of our life together is the Lord Jesus Christ who once took a bowl and towel, washing his disciples’ feet, and now asks us to continue that tradition of service willingly and faithfully given.  It will be a shame to cut it on Sunday – but we will!  And as we do so, our prayer will be that with God’s help we will continue to be a servant church.

So, Happy Birthday AFC and thanks be to God for all our fellow disciples of Jesus who have loved calling this place their spiritual home.

View from the Pew post: Heemsen Lutheran Church, Lower Saxony, Germany

 

This week's Blog is a View from the Pew article all about our visit to Germany last weekend.

https://viewfromthepewsabbatical.blogspot.com/2022/09/17-heemsen-lutheran-church-lower-saxony.html

Praying for The King

 

It was a week ago this afternoon that the world heard the sad news of The Queen’s passing; and what a tumultuous time it has been since.  ‘Operation London Bridge’ has been very moving in so many ways and continues to be with the Laying in State currently in progress in the ancient Westminster Hall.

Along with the coins, banknotes and stamps, Service Books will eventually have to be updated with prayers for The King and his family.  Interceding for the monarch is a tradition we Christians share with our Jewish cousins, whose prayerbooks mention the sovereign or president of the particular country in which the congregation is based.

It's sometimes said The Queen never put a foot wrong, although I doubt if she herself would have agreed with such a blanket statement.  In reality, no monarch is ever infallible, and Elizabeth II never claimed to be, as ‘humility’ was a hallmark of her reign.

That’s the reason we pray for the King or Queen.  The national anthem is, in essence, a prayer. And it was good to hear the King make reference, on his visit to Northern Ireland, of the way his late mother prayed for that part of her kingdom.  It seems it was mutual; we prayed for her and she for us.

The British expression of monarchy is that of a Royal Family, and every family has its ups and downs.  None of us have every met a perfect family.  So, our prayers for the new King and his family surely need to be flavoured with kindness, compassion and understanding. 

The Media all too quickly, and gleefully, seem to rush to judgement when it comes to our leaders.  Yet the truth is that those in the public eye, from the Sovereign to local mayors, constantly try to do their best even in the goldfish bowl of intense scrutiny and knee jerk criticism. So, when they do make mistakes (as we all do from time to time) we need to hold them to account in a measured and just way.

Today the late Queen, so beloved by millions around the world, lays in state before her funeral on Monday in the Abbey Church where she was both married and crowned.  In watching the livestream from Westminster Hall, it has been touching to see folk pause by the catafalque to curtsey, bow, cross themselves or simply pray.  My hope is that as these sad days, naturally and rightly, fade and happier times come, that we will still pray for those who serve us in the public sphere; and what better prayer to utter for our new sovereign that that of God save the King.

Autumnus

 

If it’s true that Brits like nothing better than talking about the weather, perhaps it’s also fair to say the changing seasons always seem to catch us by surprise.  At home we have been remarking on how quickly the nights have been drawing in, as if this hadn’t been my experience every September now for sixty-one years!

Many people, and I’m one of them, love Autumn.  Last weekend I sat at breakfast looking out of the window on the mist hanging low in the garden, and it seemed like an announcement that summer was on the wain and the Fall was beginning.

Of course, to refer to this season as ‘The Fall’ seems so American.  I was, therefore, interested to discover that it was a common term in Britain until the end of the 1600’s.  Only then, a mere three hundred years ago,  did we finally opt instead for Autumn instead, based on the Latin Autumnus.

I find it both ironic and reassuring that nature ‘dies’ so slowly and beautifully during September and October.  To be honest I find a walk in the countryside, amid the golds and reds of autumn, so much more inspiring than the monochrome green of summer – but I know that’s just my personal take, so no Letters to the Editor please!

If our lives reflect the seasons, then many of us at AFC are in the autumn rather than spring of our years.  Yet, just like my countryside walks, I’m constantly impressed by the vibrancy of the colours that make up our church community.  I’ve lost count of the number of times people have shared with me how they’ve tried something ‘new’ in retirement and I’m constantly humbled by the continuing energy and faithfulness of so many ‘older’ folk in our congregation.

Autumn days can be good days, days of dignity and beauty; a season to inspire.

So, enjoy The Fall of 22!

Kitchen - the heart of the home

 

This week, and next, we are having a new kitchen installed at The Manse.

The first part of this process was ripping out the old one, which was done with impressive efficiency on Bank Holiday Monday.  It was odd to see the room in which we have spent so many hours over the last ten years reduced to a shell, its insides now nothing more than a pile of rubbish awaiting collection on the front lawn!

Various workmen have visited us since: electricians, plumbers, gas engineers and as I write the plasterer is hard at work.  During this time, we have ‘decamped’ our usual kitchen activities to the Utility Room, grateful for the continuing good weather and our liking for salads and barbeques!

I’ve learnt that kitchens come in all shapes and sizes and even have names: the ‘Single File’, ‘Double File’, ‘U kitchen, or ‘Island kitchen’.  All I really know is that ours is going to be a ‘white’ kitchen.

But, truth to tell on day four of our re-vamp we are already missing it and appreciating once again that in so many ways it is the heart of the home.  So, we are looking forward to putting the tins back onto their shelves and finding new places for the crockery and saucepans.  And, as my brother said to me this week, it will be exciting to see numbers once again actually on the cooker dials – perhaps it will improve my culinary efforts.

In the bible food, if not kitchens, holds an important place.  There are many stories of meals being prepared, ingredients sought, and conversations held around a meal table.  Jesus visited homes as a dinner guest, once specifically saying that the conversation was even more important than the food (a lesson for all of us with a Martha tendency!)

I note from our own church’s life that we too place some emphasis on eating together, be that at LunchBreak, Tea at Three or our occasional church lunches after morning service. 

Well, now we are a house without a kitchen, and it definitely feels as if something very important is missing.  Food, conversation, fellowship – all make life better.

As the much-loved American food writer Julia Childs once said: A party without food is just a meeting.

August's View from the Pew: Oasis, Waterloo: London

 

Here is my blog review from our visit to Oasis, Waterloo, London on 7th August 2022

https://viewfromthepewsabbatical.blogspot.com/2022/08/16-oasis-waterloo-london-7th-august-2022.html

Can we have our ball back?

 

On Sunday the whole country seemed to revel in the glow of the success of the Lionesses at Wembley.  Perhaps Prince William caught the national mood as he hugged the team members before presenting them with their winner’s medal.

Our eldest son was in the stadium and said the atmosphere amongst the 87,000 spectators was electric.

Yet the story of women’s football sounds like it comes from a different planet, even more so when we realise the prejudice shown against them was just a hundred years ago.

It was in 1894 that Nettie Honeyball (what a wonderful name!) founded the British Ladies Football Club.  The game was popular amongst women, but it took the tragedy of war to bring it to significant prominence.

For, during the First World War the role of women on the Home Front changed dramatically simply because of the absence of so many men who were away fighting.  It was during this period in North East England that the Munitionettes’ Cup was established.  On Boxing Day 1917 a Women’s Football International was held between England and Ireland before a crowd of 20,000.  And then a Women’s Cup Final in 1918 was played before no less than a staggering 22,000.

Now, none of this success and enthusiasm went down well with the English Football Association who, in 1921 issued a statement which read: the game of football is quite unsuitable for females and ought not be encouraged.

That started a ‘ban’ on the women’s game that lasted from 1921 until 1970.  Similar restrictions were also introduced in countries such as Germany and Brazil.

The FA made it impossible for women’s teams to play on any grounds that belonged to the Association.  Some teams tried to continue by playing on rugby pitches but, basically, the momentum of the women’s game was lost.

Historians conclude that jealousy played a big part in this prejudice as the ‘gates’ at women’s games were financially significant, and the FA had no control over these monies.  So, rather than seek a mutually beneficial way forward, the men took the women’s ball away.

What a difference a century makes, and how ‘absurd’ it all sounds now to read of the reasoning behind the ban.

Part of the dignity of being human and made, as the Bible rather poetically says, ‘in the image of God’, is the ability we have to change our minds and in that process to see the world differently and afresh with new perspectives.  Such a process leads to progress!

In a book the AFC Book Discussion Group are currently reading, Archbishop Desmond Tutu writes: Yes, we do have setbacks, but you must keep everything in perspective.  The world is getting better.  Think about the rights of women or how slavery was considered morally justified a few hundred years ago.  It takes time.  We are growing and learning how to be compassionate, how to be caring, how to be human.

Wonderful words of hope from a man who knew what it meant to live in bleak times.

Such a way of thinking meant that, following the success of England in the 1966 World Cup, the Football Association eventually said ‘yes’ in 1970 to those from the women’s game who had been demanding for decades that they  have their ball back!

Blog holiday now until September – have a lovely summer!

A Sense of Place

We’ve spent my day off this week exploring the streets of Spitalfields.

We were there because one of our sons has just set up a stall, selling re-cycled clothing, at the Vintage Market in Brick Lane.  So, we thought we’d do the ‘parental’ thing of giving encouragement to a venture we barely understand!

Like many areas of London this patch, between Shoreditch in the north and Whitechapel to the south, has many layers of history.

Back in 1612 Spitalfields saw the foundation of the very first Baptist Church in England.  It was led by Thomas Helwys who, just a few years later, was thrown into Newgate jail for his ‘dissenting’ views in matters of faith.  Us Baptists have always been part of the awkward squad!

Towards the end of the 1600’s Spitalfields saw the influx of thousands of French refugees who we have come to know as Huguenots.  Louis XIV’s Edict of Nantes declared that France would no longer tolerate their Protestant belief, so 50,000 of them settled in Britain, many in the East End of London.  The Huguenots were tremendously industrious and made the area famous for their silk merchandise.  They settled so well because Spitalfields was outside the legal and financial jurisdiction of The Guilds and Companies of The City.  An obvious sign of the success of the Huguenots was the establishment of ten small Protestant Meeting Houses in which they worshipped.

As if to teach them how the English really built churches, the Parish of Spitalfields commissioned Nicolas Hawksmoor to come up with a truly grand and monumental design for the new Christ Church, standing at the centre of this community.  We had lunch in the church grounds this week and the building still towers over everything around it – it’s truly massive.  Recently Christ Church has become one of the many satellite congregations of Holy Trinity, Brompton.  It’s contemporary worship style and heavy support from HTB has re-energised it so much so that it now regularly holds three services on a Sunday.

Another example of ‘thinking outside the box’ is the recent establishment of a Community Café on Brick Lane, Spitalfields, sponsored by Baptist Home Mission and set up as a ‘crossing point’ between church and community.

Oh, and of course, Spitalfields is also the famous location of many Jack the Ripper cases.  We even did the tour!

Well, it’s a fascinating place with a long history and a contemporary multi-cultural feel.

The Bible regularly invokes a ‘Sense of Place’ as shorthand for various observations and messages about faith and life.

We talk of The Garden of Eden in terms of a lost paradise.  Whilst Sodom and Gomorrah stand for all that is beyond the pale.

And isn’t it significant that Jesus was born in the, comparatively, insignificant town of Bethlehem and died on a cross outside the capital, Jerusalem, at Golgotha, a place of shame.  All making the point that this King never lived in a palace or sat upon a cushioned throne.

There is a modern Call to Worship that says:

This is the place
and this is the time;
here and now,
God waits
to break into our experience;
to change our minds,
to change our lives,
to change our ways……

This is the place
as are all places;
this is the time
as are all times.
Here and now
let us praise God.

And it’s surely an inspiring thought that God is with us at all times and in all places.

Money - you just can't give it away!

 Last week Bill Gates, the world’s 4^th richest individual, vowed to give almost all his money away.  Eventually, he wants to fall of the ‘rich list’ and he says this feels, to him, like an ‘obligation’ to society.  To that end he has made a further donation of £17bn to his Foundation which is combating diseases like Malaria across the world.

Yet, it seems just giving money away isn’t as easy as it sounds.  After all Bill Gates made this same promise back in 2010 and since then, with a decade’s growth on the stock markets, his wealth has doubled.  So, even more to give away now!

Andrew Carnegie, sometimes thought of as the Father of Modern Philanthropy, had a similar experience.  From his humble beginnings in Dunfermline, Scotland, he ended up one of the richest men in America.  He gave away $350m in his lifetime (his money helping to fund the discovery of insulin) yet at his death in 1919 he still retained, apparently to his great disappointment, some  $30m.

It was the St Paul, writing to young pastor Timothy who said The love of money is the root of all evil, and I also note he spoke of such avarice as ultimately bringing many sorrows.

Money itself is, of course, neutral.  It’s its use, or our insatiable quest for more and more of it, that can be so destructive.

The Bible doesn’t shy away from talking about money and the good it can do.

In the Jewish Scriptures there’s the idea of a Temple Tax, meaning that all men over the age of 20 paid half a shekel to the Temple and half a shekel to God annually (about four days wages) on top of their free will offerings.

In Jesus’ day we are told that a group of women financially supported his ministry.  Luke even lists three of them by name: Mary Magdalene, Joanna (who husband, intriguingly was the Administrator in Herod’s household) and Susanna.  The Greek word used to describe them is the root of the word Deacon, meaning one who serves.

The Church has not always been good with money, gaining a reputation for filling its own coffers at the expense of the poor.  In the time of the Prince Bishops in England that meant Cathedrals and Abbeys owned huge swathes of land, whilst on the Continent Martin Luther spoke out against a greedy Church selling Indulgences to pay for building work in Rome.

Today, the debate about money, and especially taxes, rumbles on and is central to the current leadership race in the Tory party.

Having enough money can bring all of us a reassuring sense of security.  Striving to make taxation fair, and government spending well targeted, is seen by many Christians as a matter of justice, one that stands at the centre of our faith. And, if recent reports of the actual unhappiness encountered by some lottery winners is to be believed, it seems St Paul was right; money can bring many sorrows.

Yet, alongside Mary, Joanna and Susanna, I guess that most of us truly want to use our money wisely and well.  And like Bill Gates and Andrew Carnegie (although I suspect in much smaller quantities!) we will hope that the money we give away may be a blessing to others.

We live in unprecedented times...Do we?

 

Listening to the radio over the last few days I’ve been struck by a phrase regularly used by commentators that goes something like: We’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s got me thinking if that is actually true?

Take, for example, this current spell of very warm and sunny weather.  The grass is parched and Wimbledon didn’t have to be extended this year as rain hardly stopped any play.

Although this sort of weather doesn’t come our way every year, depending on the Jet Stream, I very much remember the long hot summer of 1976 – perhaps because I was sitting school exams – when the reservoirs dried up and the ice cream ran dry!

Or how about the Pandemic?  For us, this worldwide phenomenon started in December 2019, yet a hundred years earlier the world was emerging from the 1918/19 Spanish Flu Pandemic that killed more people than those who lost their lives in the First World War. 

And now there’s the political uncertainty as No 10 Downing Street falls vacant after a tempestuous few months.

It’s significant that the body organising the election of a new Conservative leader has the title of the 1922 Committee. This group, set up to represent the views of back benchers was actually established in 1923, a year after they effectively rose up in collective strength and forced the resignation of David Lloyd George whose Premiership of the Coalition was faltering because of accusations of sleaze and wrongdoing.  Baldwin described him as a Dynamic Force of the wrong kind!  All sound a bit familiar exactly one hundred years on?

We have been here before, yet we quickly forget that.

During these days of Covid I’ve often wondered why, at school, we hardly touched on The Spanish Flu Pandemic? And then, recently, I heard a historian point out that we have a tendency to forget the hardships we go through.  It’s a sort of self-preservation mechanism that enables us to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves down and try to walk more optimistically into the future, rather than get stuck overly conscious of the past.

Yet, in doing so, perhaps we forget too much.

We forget that we do, individually and collectively, ‘fall down’.  Often, we can recover and stand up again.  Indeed, that is the basis of the Christian idea of redemption.  We can begin again, receiving both the forgiveness, acceptance and new beginnings offered to us by God and those around us.  It’s the reason why the story of the return of the lost, prodigal son being greeted by the forgiving and welcoming father, remains one of the best loved and most relevant of all biblical narratives.

So, when I hear that phrase, we live in unprecedented times I’m just a little sceptical.  We’ve probably been here before in some senses, and we’re likely to be here again.  Yet we hang on to the belief that God shares every day and every challenge with us, be that in 2022, or 1922.

July's View from The Pew

 

This week's blog is a write up of our visit last weekend to Hampstead Garden Suburb Free Church on one of my Sabbatical Sundays.

Here's the report: July's View from The Pew

'Companions'

 

Yesterday we hosted an AGM and lunch at church for The Baptist Union Retreat Group.  The meal we provided for our guests was a corporate effort and I contributed by providing a few home-made lasagnes.  I’m not sure what came over me when I made that rather rash offer, but once made I had to come up with the goods!

As I sat through the morning AGM increasing self-doubt wafted over me as I could smell the lasagne cooking in the church kitchen.  What if it was a disaster?  What if I, single handedly, managed the bring down the whole Baptist Union Retreat Group with food poisoning!

So, my relief was almost palpable when I saw the guests not only tuck into the lasagne at lunchtime but also seemingly survive the afternoon.

Cooking for others might be something of a great responsibility but it can also be a great joy.

One of our relatives, when hosting friends for a meal, apologised to the guests that the pudding on that occasion wasn’t up to his wife’s usual standard.  He wondered why she kicked him under the table as he said this.  After they left she told him of her embarrassment at what he’d said because it was, in fact, the guests who had brought the pudding that night!  I wonder if they ever came back!

Judith Jones, the American editor best known for ‘discovering’ the Diaries of Anne Frank and promoting the food writer Julia Childs, spoke of cooking using ‘religious' language when she wrote: Cooking demands attention, patience, and above all, a respect for the gifts of the earth. It is a form of worship, a way of giving thanks.

So, I suspect that yesterday I was rather like Martha (rather than Mary) in the Bible story.  As we were discussing the agenda my mind was actually in the kitchen with my lasagnes!

It seems both natural and good that sharing meals plays a part in our corporate life.  Our Jewish friends probably lead the way with many of their rituals actually based around the family table rather than the one in the synagogue.

Even the modern discipleship programme ALPHA made sharing a meal together an integral part of its ethos.

I’ve enjoyed countless times around the table with friends at church.  None more so than an exchange visit to Australia and preaching in a rather remote village chapel on the banks of the Murray River outside Adelaide.  After the service we went over to the church hall for lunch at which just about every lady in the congregation produced a home-made shepherds pie.  I’ve never seen such an array of the same dish, yet each one just a little different from the rest.

The very word companion means to share bread with another.  At AFC we might do that at LunchBreak, Tea at Three, Lunch Club, Men’s Breakfast or our occasional Church Lunches. I think even sharing a biscuit at After Service Coffee also counts! 

Perhaps we might even twist a well known proverb and say that  A church that eats together stays together.

Of course, the most important ‘meal’ Christians ever share is Communion.  Breaking bread and drinking wine in  remembrance is the meal that nourishes our souls and draws us to God.

Three Score Years and Ten

 

Over recent weeks a couple of the Care Homes, in which we used to hold regular services, have got in contact with us asking us to return.  This will be a great joy as, during the Pandemic, these homes have been ‘off limits’ resulting in an increased sense of isolation for their residents.

Such services are an important part of AFC’s life as it’s our opportunity to share half an hour of worship and fellowship with folks who can no longer attend a service in their own church.

Over the last couple of years I’ve taken a number of funerals of some of the residents who used to attend such services, their families having contacted me because ‘Mum used to love the times when AFC visited and she could sing her hymns again’.  All very moving.

I was struck by the recent findings, published this week, from last year’s Census.  Apparently, there are now close to 59 million of us living in the UK with 11 million being over 65 years of age, and that’s an increase of about 4% on ten years ago, whilst the number of young adults under 35 has fallen by 5%.  I suppose, in colloquial terms, that means society is ‘getting older’.

I remember the first time someone asked if they could give up their seat for me on the Tube!  It happens quite regularly now, but it happened first in 2012 as we piled into a carriage on our way back from attending the Olympic Games in East London.  To be truthful I was rather taken aback and declined, these days I always accept!

In Psalm 90 we are told a life span equates to the legendary Three Score Years and Ten.  Yet the truth is that if you are a mere 70 years old in a church today you’ll almost certainly be considered one of our ‘younger ones’!

One of my favourite bible stories is the one about Simeon and Anna, two aged saints who advanced in years with faith burning bright in their hearts.

Of course the Bible comes from a time when society had fewer ‘categories’.  The term ‘teenager’ hadn’t yet been invented so I suspect you were simply thought of as either young or old, with your ‘senior years’ almost certainly starting around your early fifties. 

We might also make the observation that Jesus only ‘experienced’ being a child and then young adulthood.  Dying at 33 meant he barely reached middle age.

Job says that wisdom and understanding belong to the old, whereas Joel, in a passage also quoted on the Day of Pentecost, declared that old men will dream dreams whilst young men will have their visions.

We need both, every community needs both, the dreamers and the vision see-ers, the young and the old.

A  modern hymn by David Mowbray, one time vicar in Watford just down the road, charts our lives with the first lines of each verse reading:
Lord of our growing years…
Lord of our strongest years…
… our middle years…
… our older years… and then
Lord of our closing years…

In some ways it’s a brave hymn because of its honesty, yet every verse has this wonderful refrain:
Your grace surround us all our days -
for all your gifts we bring our praise.