Do not fear... REJOICE!

I am sure my Old Testament tutor would have something to say to me about my exposition of Zephaniah and bringing Moses into things (I always got in to bother when I tried to tackle anything Moses related), but here is where I ended up after spending the week reflecting that this Sunday, the third in Advent, was 'Guadete Sunday'.

SERMON: DO NOT FEAR, BUT REJOICE!
based on Zephaniah 3.14-20 and Philippians 4.4-7

“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…” (Zephaniah 3.16b-27a)
so “Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.” (Philippians 4.4a, 5b)

Fear, trepidation, uncertainty, injustice to be replaced by celebration, jubilation, joy! Advent will soon become Christmas when all darkness is to be dispersed by the glorious dawn of an endless light! Yet, in the shadow of recent events, this seems completely incomprehensible and if not, totally out of the question. How can we have a party when there is the threat of terror knocking at our door? How can we be merry and joyful when so many will once again be starting over when the flood waters finally recede? This is not a time to sing aloud songs of exultation; rather it is a time to weep, mourn and cry out all that is wrong. On a day such as today, with all that is wrong in the world blazoned across the headlines, how can the Prophet tell us not to fear? How can the Apostle tell us to ‘rejoice’? Is it because they do not understand? Is it because they are not of our time? No, they do understand for they knew the darkness of this world as well as we do. The reality of the world in the time of Zephaniah was idolatry, corruption and injustice. Paul wrote to the church of Philippi from a prison cell, and it was not just Paul who was in trouble, the church was too. There was conflict between its leaders and the community was also under persecution from the outside. The same darkness that surrounds us surrounded them; the same struggles we face, they faced; yet the words of the Prophet and the Apostle to their time, and to us now, were:

“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…”
“Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.”

Traditionally this Sunday in Advent has been known as ‘Guadete Sunday’ or ‘Rejoice Sunday’ if we translate the Latin. It was the Sunday when the disciplines of Advent preparations were relaxed so that a foretaste of Christmas joy could be proclaimed. Not a bad idea, especially as the third Sunday in Advent is when it dawns on many of us how unprepared we are for Christmas and how few days are left to get ourselves sorted. An injection of joy is just what is needed as an apathy for the season sets in and all that is on our minds are thoughts of disaster and chaos. Yet although this Christmas joy is sure to lift our spirits and potentially relieve the pressure of our preparations for at least a little while, I wonder if there is more to this than what we might normally term the ‘festive spirit’. So what exactly is this Christmas joy that is to be proclaimed? And why today when our festive spirit is truly wavering and there is a real deep sense of darkness in the world should we be even more enthusiastic to proclaim it?

Zephaniah’s song is a welcomed break from the gloom and despondency that fills much of the rest of the book of the prophet. Zephaniah has been, it appears, driven to near-despair over the sorry condition of Judah’s life since the reign of King Manasseh. Yet, with King Josiah now on the throne, there was some hope of change, for Josiah sought to reform the kingdom and re-establish the statutes and ordinances of the Sinai covenant. Yet at Sinai, it was not just statutes and ordinances Moses received for the Israelites to live by, it was also the place where God’s covenant with the people was once again restated. It was also the place where God came to be amongst the people in the tent of the Tabernacle. To go back to that time, to live again with that real sense and knowledge of God’s presence and all that would mean as it did for the Israelites in the wilderness could not be kept to oneself—Zephaniah had to tell Judah all about the potential for God’s return, and because of how this knowledge had lifted his spirits the only way for Zephaniah to proclaim it was to sing a song of joy. All judgement was to go and all suffering to end, for once again God’s promises could be fulfilled. Zephaniah, through the throne of King Josiah, could see the potential for reign of darkness coming to an end. There was no further need for the people to fear, for the Lord, their God, could again come into their midst! It was time to rejoice and be glad and sing aloud exultations from the heart.

This image of God being amongst the people isn’t, however, just Zephaniah’s vision—Paul had the same vision. He tells the Philippians that ‘the Lord is near’ (Philippians 4.5b). However, the Philippians understanding of this will have likely been very different from the understanding of the Israelites, for they were living, just as we are, after the time of Christ and talk of the Lord coming near most likely meant Christ’s return. And it is Christ’s return that we predominantly speak off during the season of Advent. This is the time when we long and wait for Christ to come again, not just in the story of that first Christmas, but physically and spiritually. And to truly know that that time was near had to inspire the Philippians, as it should us. To know of Christ’s return fills one with great anticipation, but to know that it is immanent has to bring uncontainable excitement, potentially even joy. This joy, however, that we hear in Paul’s message feels subtly different from the joy in Zephaniah’s message, when we consider the knowledge of the original hearers. And this is emphasised by how one commentator describes the joy that Paul talks of in his letter to the Philippians. It is described as something that has a deep sense of longing but is also patient—a waiting filled with wanting—but also allows the one in possession of it to pray for their anxieties and receive the peace which is deeply rooted in God. This feels like a much muted version of joy, compared to what we might expected to it mean having experienced joy for ourselves and through the words of the prophet Zephaniah. It works as a definition with respects to our understanding of Advent, but is this really the Christmas joy that this Sunday calls us to proclaim, especially when we see joy through the lens of the words of the prophet Zephaniah?

For us to consider light and darkness during this season is not uncommon. At some point during our Advent and Christmas celebrations within the church we will read those fantastic words from the opening of the gospel of John which talk of the light coming into the world and the darkness not being able to overcome it (John 1.5). We will hear the words of the prophet Isaiah telling us of the people who walked in darkness seeing a great light (Isaiah 9.2). But where is God—in the light or in the darkness? In the light, of course, I hear you say; it is Jesus who is the light of the world, after all. And you are not wrong, but what if I was to say that God is also in the darkness?

Zephaniah, although a prophet did not sing about God coming amongst the people, nor did he look back and sing of God being amidst the people; he sang “the Lord, your God, is in your midst” (Zephaniah 3.17a). God’s presence was there in the darkness that Zephaniah was experiencing, just as God is present in the darkness that we are experiencing. We shouldn’t be rejoicing because the Lord will soon be with us, we should be rejoicing because God is here, because there is another way to read the word ‘near’. I think Paul meant that God is in our intimate surroundings, not coming in the near future. And why do we need to see God in the here and now? Well, if the world is to change, then it can only change if God is present because it is God’s presence that heals, enlivens and challenges humanity and turns that darkness into light. And this is the Christmas joy that has to be proclaimed and why we should rejoice this Sunday. God has not just been in the world, nor is God just due to come into the world again; God is in the world, now!

So hear the words of the Prophet and the Apostle:
“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…”
“Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.”

©Elaine S Colechin, 2015

Living in the shadow...

It is fairly difficult not to live some or all of our lives in the shadow of someone. If it is not within our working lives then there is often someone within our families. Sometimes we know that we are living in that shadow; other times we don't. Sometimes they are a person we continually remind ourselves of and other times they are a person someone is always reminding us of. To live in that shadow can make life unbearable; can mean we are always looking over our shoulders.

Although it is something I was very much aware of when I started out in ministry, in the past couple of months, the fact that I am now living in the shadow of another has become very much a reality. The photographs of previous ministers that don walls in vestries or vestibules; the dropping of a previous minister's name into a conversation and being told that's not how the previous minister did it. In the first few months of ministry, it is not an easy place to inhabit because there is always the sense that you are being compared to the one who came before.

In a small denomination, the likelihood of you knowing something of the previous minister is quite high. But the probability of finding yourself called to the previous pastorate of a college tutor must be quite low. However, here I stand in that shadow and its an odd reality. I have caught myself questioning whether my congregations think I will do something a particular way because I have been taught by their previous minister. I have found myself feeling a little bit like piggy in the middle because of old arguments that have left their scars. I have even had moments where I have wanted to shout I am not the previous minister I'm me, when for the hundredth time someone has said, "oh so you're the new [previous minister's name]". But instead laughed it off.

Shadows... if only we didn't have to live in shadows. But we do, there is no getting away from them because we even cast our own shadows which eventually someone else with find themselves in, even if it unintentional from our perspective. I guess all we can do is try and live with that shadow, rather than in it. Use the knowledge that it provides, rather be overwhelmed by it. After all, it is just a shadow, even if you know the person who originally cast it.

When you don't think you've got the right sermon for the right congregation...

This past Sunday's lectionary could have taken me in lost of different directions, but I'm always a little surprised at where I end up by the time I've finished my sermon. And this week, once I had got to the end I thought that the sermon I had was most probably better suited for one of my other congregations than the one I was leading worship on Sunday morning, but as this is what had landed on the page, there wasn't much I could do about it. So here is the sermon I preached on and one that more than one person left saying gave them 'food for thought', even though I was sure I was preaching it to the wrong crowd...

The scipture readings we were considering were: Mark 8.27-38, James 3.1-12 and Proverbs 1.20-33

I am sure many of us have walked through town or city centres and heard the street-corner evangelists shouting at passers-by. But how many of us have ever stopped to listen to what they have to say? There was a group in Bury St Edmunds the other Saturday whom I walked passed. And as I passed by I heard one of them shouting about how they had been at the bottom of the pile, but once they were saved, life had never been better. They were shouting the sort of things that makes me feel really uncomfortable if I’m honest, and, in my opinion, gives ‘evangelism’ a bad reputation. But later on I was walking along a parallel street to where this group were positioned and I heard another one of them shouting, but this time it wasn’t their life story they were shouting about, instead they were giving passers-by the advice to watch where they were walking! It was one of those moments when I did almost stop to listen—where was this advice to the shoppers to watch out for undesirable things they could walk in on the pavement going. But my intrigue didn’t last long because in the words of the speaker the pavement seemed to becoming more and more littered, and having just walked down that street myself and having not seen any of that, I concluded that the person was heading towards some sort of ‘repent or burn’ teaching, which I just couldn’t listen to, so I hurried on.

However, despite how uncomfortable I am with what many of these street-corner evangelists shout, I do have to feel a little sorry for them. Standing there, day after day, with no one listening, has to be soul destroying after a while. But I wonder if anyone has become so discouraged they have come up with a similar repose to the one we heard from Wisdom in the book of Proverbs? In Proverbs, Wisdom has given up shouting about ‘Good News’ and instead turned to shouting the bad news that comes from no one being bothered to listen her; to heed the good advice she’s been giving them; to take interest in the great knowledge and wisdom she had been trying to share with the people. In fact what Wisdom says is callous and unforgiving. It is a fine example of an Old Testament rebuke when the people had not heeded the word of God and the only option left open to them was to fear God!

Yet, with the marrying of these verses from Proverbs with those from the letter of James and the gospel of Mark, I have to think that this week’s lectionary isn’t so much a challenge for us as a whole, but rather one for the preacher. After spending years standing in the pulpit, with the pews still half-empty and enthusiasm for doing anything remaining at a constant low, it would be very easy to get caught up in the words of Wisdom and say ‘Amen sister’. But should the preacher be making such a response? Can the fact the pews are half-empty and the general lack of enthusiasm remains, really only be blamed on the congregation and/or local community? Or should the preacher be questioning their own ability to listen; their own ability to pay attention to what Wisdom has attempted to share with them?

“Who do you say I am?” was Jesus’ question to the disciples (Mark 8.29). Here again we have another slightly confusing discourse between Jesus and the disciples. It seems to have been quite a straight forward, ‘passing the time of day’ conversation until the point where Jesus asks his question of them. The disciples had been merrily feeding back to Jesus what they had heard as they had been travelling around the villages. But then Peter, in true Peter style, replies: “Well you’re the Messiah, of course!” and then everything becomes a little awkward. Now whether Jesus’ teaching of the disciples did follow straight after this comment of Peter’s and Jesus’ response is open to debate. However, in the editing of these two stories together, the author of Mark has done something quite clever, which might just go towards explaining some of Jesus’ ‘be quiet’ reproofs. Very often in Mark, when the author reports Jesus as telling people not to tell anyone, commentators talk about the secrecy of Mark and the author not wanting Jesus’ true person to be disclosed before the end of the story. And in these verses from Mark, that is happening, but in how these two events are linked another reason for why there needs to be this secrecy opens up. In most of these situations when Jesus then tells people to ‘be quiet’, the disciples and others haven’t quite got to grips with exactly who Jesus is yet, and therefore Jesus wants them to be much wiser with their choice of words when talking about him. Give Peter his dues; he knew his scripture and the promise of a Messiah. And he was right to make the connection between the Messiah and who Jesus was. But what Peter thought the Messiah would do and what he actually did, and does, are two very different things. So Jesus was trying to get the disciples to guard their language, and make sure they truly understood who the Messiah was before they started spreading the news. How does the saying go: “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing!” So to avoid that danger, it is sometimes better to stay quiet, at least until you are better informed. But as preachers and teachers, I have to ask myself, do we always do this? It is one of those traps that can be easily fallen into when you have a little knowledge on a subject area. Before you know it you are sounding like an expert, all because you’ve verbally crafted some educated answers to questions on topics that if you’re honest you know very little about. And this is at the centre of Jesus’ rebuke of Peter and the cautionary tale from the letter of James. They are words that all preachers should heed because of the authority that standing in the pulpit gives and the weighty responsibility that goes along with this authority.

The author of the letter of James points out how our use of language can be a powerful thing and because it is so powerful it is also dangerous. In fact, in the twelve verses we heard, the author aptly demonstrated this with the dramatic use of metaphor. A vast forest can be reduced to a pile of ashes by a single, tiny flame, just as a one misused, misplaced word can destroy true meaning in an instant. It is a levelling thought for when preparing a sermon. As the one expounding Scripture, do you really understand what you are talking about? Is what you are saying really what you mean? Is your response to the texts of the day more in line with Peter’s speedy response to Jesus question “Who do you say I am?” or have you taken the time to listen to the counsel of Wisdom? The advantage of a sermon is that at least you have the time to think about the words you use to try and ensure you have the knowledge to support what you are saying. And if as preachers, we are not doing this then we need to stop and reflect on our practice, because if we are not taking the time to listen to Wisdom then we are on very shaky ground. But that is all well and good for those of us set apart to do the Sunday morning slot, but what about the rest of us? Is there something in these texts that are a challenge not just for the preacher but for all of us? Well what about when you find yourself in a conversation on a street corner and that impossible question comes from nowhere? What do you do when the little knowledge you have is not enough?

The response you are very often taught in presentation skills when those awkward questions come up is: “good question, let me give that some thought and I’ll come back to you.” However, that kind of response doesn’t work in a brief encounter on a street corner, but maybe this is where some of the other wisdom that the author of the letter of James shares with us might be helpful. If you can cast your minds back a couple of weeks when we heard from the first chapter of James, we heard the phrase: “Everyone must be quick to listen, but slow to speak…” (James 1.19b) If we take time and don’t rush to make our response, very often in what we hear the person saying, the question doesn’t come quite out of the blue and some response can be made that it true to what we know. And also if we take time to listen, it means we also have time to listen to what God is saying in these situations, which very often leads us to having just the right words to say.

How ever much Wisdom wanted to just speak a message of doom, she couldn’t end her reproof without a glimmer of hope: “But whoever listens to me will have security. They will be safe, with no reason to be afraid.” (Proverbs 1.33) Whether preacher, teacher or occupier of a pew, if we take time to listen and reflect before we speak, then God will be at hand and there will be no need to fear. And our answer to the question “Who do you say I am?” will not be without knowledge or wisdom of what the true response is and what that means.

It is amazing what happens sometimes!

 

 

Changing landscape

So the date of my ordination draws ever closer and I have heading into the pastorate where I will serve. As I drove through the lanes of Suffolk the other day to cross the border into Cambridgeshire, the county in which two of my four churches reside, the reality of what is before me hits. This landscape of farmland and twisting lanes dotted with villages, is a changing landscape. Not just because it is harvest time, but because of what is happening with the populations. There are those who live in these villages who are born and bred, yet there are also others who have moved into villages. It is the same story across the country. But what does it mean to move into a community, to join a community?

Society does seem to have changed in recent time. Belonging to something, being a member of something, doesn't seem to mean the same as it once did. In towns and cities, this I think has become something that the church has slowly begun to wake up to, but what about in these idyllic, somewhat sleepy, corners of rural Britain?

These are questions which I think will be in the background of many conversations I will have in coming months. These are questions I will theologically reflect on as I start on this ministry as I myself move into communities, communities where I potentially only be in for a certain period of time. They are questions I will most probably refleict on and wrestle with throughout my ministry. These are questions I will need to help others explore.

So as the harvest is gathered in and the surrounding landscape changes, for four churches and myself things are changing in our landscapes too. Whether together we come up with any answers to these questions is to be seen, but together I'm sure we will wrestle with them as we seek to be God's people in the communities we live and work and the communities we belong to.

The Word of the Lord surrounding all being

After four years of theological study and church placements, my pre-ordination training draws to a close. Hopefully, in 10 days time I will receive my leaving certificate from Westminster College, Cambridge, which will state that I can go forward for ordination into ministry of Word and Sacraments in the United Reformed Church. A long, tiring, exciting, and sometimes scary journey is coming to a close, although in fact it is only the beginning!

So how do I feel about this?

Well, in my normal style, as I think my tutor has come to know so well over the years: I don't really know! Or do I...

Meet Henri, my third morph sculpture...

When I started to think back over my time on the living ministry programme, which is the final piece of my pre-ordination training, I came to the conclusion that the only way I might go some way to expressing where I have come to is through another sculpture. Here is a figure, who could be controversial; who speaks of insecurity; who is open to receive whilst quietly, even prayerfully, reflecting on all that they see and hear. The words of Scripture have come to cover them, some words and phrases standing out, whilst others have been interpreted to give meaning to what lay ahead in the future. What it means to live with and in the Word of God is a reality, yet causes the individual to bow their head in humility and honour of the awesomeness that knowledge holds.

The prophet Isaiah wrote: "All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flowers fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand for ever." (Isaiah 40.7-8, NRSV) The words of God are weighty and can cause one to crumb and wither. Yet, there is much strength, freedom and reassurance in the words of God.  The fact that it was there in the beginning and will be there at the end, should prevent one from fading, and really truly enliven them.

In the past four years, in just the past nine months, I have wrestled with Scripture. I have listen for God's word and struggled to hear. Yet, as I have found myself more and more drawn into Scripture, I have come to know although I may not always hear it, God's Word surrounds me and is within me. And for this I am truly thankful, because it is this that has truly prepared me for the next phase on my journey as a Minister of Word and Sacraments.

Not being able to see the wood for the trees

'Can't see the wood for the trees' is one of those sayings that easily rolls of the tongue when things are not particularly straight forward. Yet, as I found myself stumbled around a wood looking for a path, the saying took on a different meaning.

Having taken a few days off to regather after the busyness of Easter and try not think about what is ahead in the next few weeks, I took the opportunity to do a bit of walking. With my map reading skills being not as good as they could be and fairly indistinct paths, it was surprisingly easy to close my mind off; for a while at least. However, it was not long before my mind drifts back to what I was trying to escape from. But as I walked through a wood the other day, looking for markers that the map said were there but all I could see were trees, the wood suddenly opened up before me, as did my thoughts.

If you stand still long enough in a wood, in a fairly short period of time you no longer just see trees. Suddenly you are no longer surrounded by birdsong without sight of its source; there are wrens, robins, finches flitting from branch to branch, stopping briefing to whistle a call. There is a scurrying in the undergrowth and then a dart of grey as a squirrel running up a nearby tree. From behind a clump of gorse strolls a pony happily grazing and seemingly oblivious to your presence. With very little effort, at least on your part, the wood soon shows itself not just to be tree upon tree, but so much more.

And in that moment, I may not have found the fence I was looking for, but I did find a bit of meaning.

During Lent I thought a lot about waiting and how the Christian calendar has a number of periods of time which we could easily class as waiting times. But why? If we are to be missionaries and evangelists, living out the Gospel, that's all about action. However, do we not say 'actions speak louder than words', yet, how often do we do things without thinking them through first? God does use these moment, but there is always the encouragement to wait on God first. In waiting, what our actions will be become better defined as we begin to see more than what is just before us. We begin to see the wood and not just the trees.

'Deep in the Wood' E Colechin 2015

Pilgrim, Celebrity or King? Palm Sunday Sermon

Mark 11.1-11 (NRSV):
When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, “Why are you doing this?” just say this, “The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.” ’ They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, ‘What are you doing, untying the colt?’ They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
‘Hosanna!
   Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
   Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!’
 Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve. 

Have you ever been involved with arranging an event where an important guest is to be welcomed? There is much preparation to be done; decisions to be taken over who will and will not greet them. It must also be decided how their presence in your midst will be announced to those outside, for there will always be others who will also want to catch a glimpse of your invited celebrity. But of course this then leads to the question of ‘crowd-control’! And in the midst of all these decisions, you then have the list of requirements of that individual, or their entourage, to deal with. And if you are very unlucky, then that entourage will want to scrutinise all of your planning down to the detail of which crockery you’ll be use for tea. There is no doubt about it, welcoming a celebrity is a minefield, but it is also a crowd puller! And if it is a crowd you want, then a celebrity you must have! Yet, this was not what was going on in Jerusalem. Jesus wasn’t exactly an invited celebrity; demonstrated by the fact that it was him who did all the planning of how he was going to make his grand entry. And that grand entry, well, was not exactly grand, more a little ad hoc. However, as with everything Jesus did, it was more carefully planned than it seemed on the surface and in this case in more ways than one! 

Firstly, however, he was a crowd-puller: the streets were lined, flags were flying—well leafy branches—and there was much cheering and jubilation! The description of the scene, not just in the gospel of Mark but within all the gospels, reminds me of the film ‘A Hard Day’s Night’. Now in light of John Lennon’s controversial comment about the Beatles being more popular than Jesus, a comment which was maybe taken slightly out of context and he did apologise for eventually, the film may not be the best choice of analogues that I could have made. However, the film although primarily about the manic nature of life on the road as a pop group, demonstrated how much the Beatles’ lives were plagued by hordes of screaming fans. They could not go anywhere without being chased by a group of teenagers. People were infatuated with them. And this still happens to this day. There are those who will camp out on the streets of London overnight just to be able to get a glimpse of Will and Kate! Those that travel half-way across the world to stand at the back of a crowd and wave a banner! And this is what was happening on the streets of Jerusalem. People may not have been waiting for hours on street corners for Jesus to come by, but when they heard he was coming they were rushing to be there. They were going to be one of those who could say ‘they were there’, ‘they saw him!’ 

‘Hang on a minute’, say the commentators, this kind of welcome was not uncommon in Jerusalem at that time. Although the gospel descriptions speak of a welcome we would associate with a big celebrity entering our city; for Jerusalem this was a ‘norm’ as they were always coming out to welcome any pilgrims entering their city. They would wave branches and festoon the pilgrims way. They would shout blessings upon the pilgrims in welcome. And, although Mark doesn’t quite put us at the time of the Passover in chapter 11, the way the story unfolds in Mark’s telling suggests Jesus’ triumphal entry was at the time when Jerusalem would have been welcoming many pilgrims into the city. However, it may have been Passover; Jerusalem may have been welcoming its many pilgrims; but the blessing that the crowds shouted at Jesus was not quite the blessing upon Jesus that would have been shouted at normal pilgrims. Actually, it wasn’t really a blessing at all—it was a proclamation! The crowds were proclaiming Jesus as Lord! The festivities may have had the look of a pilgrim’s welcome, but it was more than that. In what the crowds shouted there were royal undertones, and overall Mark’s telling points the reader towards something more political, as well as something with a level of meaning that clearly the crowds to do not understand and nor do those who accompany Jesus. 

Now, if Jesus was a big celebrity character as his ability to draw crowds would suggest, maybe what the crowds were shouting in Jerusalem came from the fact they had just got a bit carried away. How easy is it to say something in the heat of the moment, and then later realise that wasn’t quite what you meant to say? Hindsight is a great thing, but as John Lennon discovered, it is very hard to back track on a comment made in the heat of the moment, especially when its meaning has been misinterpreted. However, biblical scholarship is fairly certain that the gospel writers did not document events in ways that did not have some deeper meaning within their portrayal of the Jesus story. Admittedly, though, we don’t always see that meaning at first glance! All the same, in the context of what happens next in Mark’s story, the shout of the crowds is not just political, but also comical and dramatic. It sets up conflict, establishes confusion, reminds us that maybe we haven’t quite got our heads around this and neither have those whom we are reading about. 

Mark brings the reader back to the idea, over and over again throughout the gospel, of how much people really did not understand who Jesus was, and to some extent how much Jesus did not want them to know who he was. But here in chapter 11 is a turning point—Jesus in getting on that colt and riding into Jerusalem made a statement. This action fulfilled prophesy. Jesus was portraying himself as that messianic figure; that long awaited messenger of God who would be the people’s salvation. And the voice of crowd would suggest that they got it. At last the fog had lifted and they saw who Jesus was! But did they? Or does the short-lived celebration of Jesus’ presence with them just reinforce Mark’s message about how much Jesus and his presence among the people was not understood? Verse 11 does not exactly state Jesus’ presence in the city as ground breaking—he arrives at the temple and looks around, then heads back out of the city. Where are the crowds now? If they really believed Jesus was the Messiah they had all been waiting for, why had they not followed him and why were they letting him leave the city? 

But of course, Jesus was not the Messiah they were all hoping for. For starters he didn’t storm the gates of Jerusalem; he quietly and gently entered through one of the open gates at the plodding pace of a donkey. The Jews were wanting revolution; they wanted release from the control of the occupation of the Romans. They weren’t going to start this revolution themselves, however, that would have been suicide. They wanted someone else to do; someone that they would be happy to call their leader or if things went pear-shaped, to be their scapegoat. But Jesus never towed the party-line, and he definitely did not come to wage war or to conquer on the day he entered Jerusalem; he came in peace. In fact, his riding on a donkey symbolised just this. Apparently at that time, a colt was the animal princes would choose to ride when they wished to signify peaceful intentions. Therefore, Jesus’ procession spoke of royalty, but not the royalty that the Jews were looking for and wanted. So was this why the crowds dispersed? 

Clearly, God’s definition of Messiah and the Jews definition of Messiah did not match. The Jews thought the Messiah would be the one who would save them from there oppressors; where in fact the Messiah was to be the one who would save them from themselves. And that salvation was not, however, just to be limited to those people at that time, it was to span the world and time itself. We talk about Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, and for a fleeting moment we get a glimpse of it. But Mark, in his telling of that day does not hold us in the moment long so that we come to see that the triumph isn’t really on that road into the city. Rather it is on the road out of the city—the road Jesus will travel at the end of this week. 

Mark shows us Jesus as celebrity, we glimpse the Jesus who is king, but we are also reminded that Jesus was a pilgrim. His pilgrimage though was not just to the temple, it was one of special standing that would change the course of God’s relationship with the people of the whole world. 

Today is Palm Sunday, a day where we very often get caught up with our palm waving and our shouts of ‘Hosanna’. But the Church in its focus on today has changed. Many congregations now only briefly wave their palms and then moments later find themselves at the foot of the cross. They will follow through the litany of Passion, rather than the litany of Palms. This maybe speaks of how we tend not to spend the week travelling with Jesus as we possibly once did—the busyness of our lives just doesn’t allow us. Yet I am well aware that within our own tradition, journeying through Holy Week is something that we just don’t really do. What is important is the resurrection, and what happens before it is neither here nor there—right? Wrong—to understand, we need to see the whole story. It is exactly this that Mark is getting at through how he writes his gospel. It is the reader who comes to understanding, not ultimately the characters of the story. But if I think it is so important that we should have followed through the narrative of the Passion, why have we today only entered through the gates of Jerusalem and got as far as Jesus’ first visit to the temple according to Mark. Well, because there is much to learn on each step of this pilgrimage. When Jesus pauses, we should pause too. Take in the scene. Ask what does it mean? This final week of Jesus’ life is one that is transforming, and the meaning of that transformation comes through every action Jesus takes. We should, therefore, not hurry through. Nor should we go straight from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday without passing through the temple, the upper room, the garden and finally journey the road from the city to the cross. For it is through the whole journey that the Pilgrim Jesus, turns from Celebrity to King—not just to the King of the Jews, but to the King of us all and the one whom we now call Saviour and Lord. 

Amen

Wilderness...

I suppose the advantage of being in a pastorate situation at this time of year rather than in academia means I'm actually spending more of my time reflecting on the season. Don't get me wrong, I haven't ignored Lent for the past three years, but I don't think I've given it quite the due consideration that it requires. It has, unfortunately, taken second place to essay deadlines and looming exams. However, even before heading off to theological college, I can't honestly say that Lent has ever featured heavily within the liturgical years I've cycled through. Maybe it is the tradition that I've grown up in and the liturgical freedom it affords that has allowed me to sail through the 45 days with only a cursory glance. Or maybe I have just been too lazy to look!

This year things are different, Lent is at the forefront of my daily reflections and my weekly worship preparation.

But what angle do I come at Lent from? Do I do the whole self-denial thing? Maybe spend time sitting in sackcloth and ashes doing penitence? Or maybe I should go on a journey it to the wilderness?

Well pastorate life really doesn't allow you to head off at a drop of a hat on some sort Lenten pilgrimage. Nor does it really allow time to sit around in sackcloth and ashes, especially if you don't what people to think that pressure has finally got to you. But it doesn't stop you from wondering and reflecting on what it might mean to head off into the wilderness, just as Jesus did.

As I was driving home from my weekly visit to Cambridge the other day, America's 'A horse with no name' came up on my iPod playlist, and it got me thinking. So often we reflect on the wilderness being a place of loss; when we're not sure which way to go, we saying we're in wilderness times. We think of it as a place of hardship and a time when we wrestle with who we are and what maybe we are being called too. And on reading the story of Jesus' time in the wilderness, or even following the journey of the Israelites through the wilderness, I don't think it is wrong to see the wilderness that way. But what if it was a place of relief too? The chorus to the song 'A horse with no name' goes thus: "I've been through the desert on a horse with no name. It felt good to be out of the rain. In the desert you can remember your name, cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain."

Yes, the wilderness is a place where we struggle, but I also think that it is a place that allows us to remember who we actually are too. Its a place where we can reflect on the world we live, the world that surrounds us without either of those worlds encroaching on us.

If you have a spare 10 minutes, take a look at this video, see that Jesus did not just wrestle in the wilderness, he also to delight in the world around him and remembered who he was!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Xb8-mkSNSg

Waiting...

So one of today's task was to write another pastoral letter for my placement churches, and here it is. Some of the task that have to be done in ministry require a level of honest that puts you in a place of vulnerability - this letter is no exception. These words come from within current experience - and not just from standing waiting for a train! 

Rushing down the steps on to the platform just to see the train slowly pulling away is one of those really infuriating moments in life. Now on the Underground really there should be no need to get frustrated, but people do. I was with a friend the other day when this happened to us, and my friend exclaimed, “Well now we will have to wait 4 minutes for the next train!” In the grand scheme of things, 4 minutes is nothing especially when we apparently spend 653 hours in a lifetime waiting for trains and buses. Yet, when you are waiting, 4 minutes can seem an age. But all the same we must wait.

The Christian calendar seems to me to be made up of periods of waiting. Before Christmas we have Advent, when we wait for the birth of Christ. We are currently in the season of Lent, when we appear to be waiting for the death of Christ. Then from Good Friday to Easter Sunday, we wait for the resurrection of Christ. From then we wait for Pentecost and the coming of the Holy Spirit, and then we appear to wait for the cycle to start again. Christians are known as the people of the Way. Reflecting on how much time we spend waiting, maybe it would be more appropriate to call us the people of the wait! That aside, it is not an unknown wait that we experience though; we do know what lies at the end of each period of waiting. This you would think would make the waiting easier, just as the time ticking down on the platform sign telling you when the next train is due might do. But does it? Or does it make the wait feel even longer?

Psalm 13 starts with the cry, “How long, O Lord?”, and it is a cry that is uttered elsewhere in Scripture (e.g. Psalm 6.3, Psalm 35.17, Habakkuk 1.2 and Revelation 6.10). When we are waiting with the expectation of something, how easy it is to cry out ‘how long?’ And how frustrating it is when the only response we get back is “patience”! Yet, in some sense that is what we have in these periods of waiting in the Christian calendar. They are periods of time that give us the space to reflect and prepare; to be patient before God. If we were to rush from birth to death to resurrection to spirit without pausing and reflecting, would we actually see what each event was and is about?

One of the things I very quickly found after starting my placement was that whenever I cried “how long?” it wasn’t because things were taking too long, it is because things came around too soon. This meant that whenever I missed the train or the bus in the morning and had to wait, I found myself getting frustrated because I felt like I was losing valuable time sat at my computer or in conversation with someone. However, it was not lost time, it has actually been some of my most valuable time—the time when I have been made to stop and wait. That is why the periods of waiting in our yearly cycle, I think, are invaluable. They cause us to stop and think; to reflect on what has been and what is to come. They also cause us to be in the moment.

So take heart! Do not get frustrated by the periods of waiting that come your way, because the times when we have to wait are as valuable and meaningful as the times when we don’t. Remember the last verse of Psalm 27: "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!"

New Year?

I realise I have been a little lax in keeping my blog up-to-date in recent months with my muses. Maybe this is because I don't seem to have time to sit and do much musing these days, or because most of my musing ends up in my sermons. Yet, as I am learning, there are times in ministry where musing is not just needed for the sermon, for there is always the magazine pastoral letter to be written. So here is my reflection on the turning on the year that has recently been published in the church magazines of my pastorate, which appears to have got people talking and even causing one person to re-write the beginning of their sermon the other week (alas not my supervisor's, but I can live in hope that will happen one day)...

With the dawning of a new year there is that sense of a new start. The battered diary of the year past is tucked away, if not thrown in the bin, and our crisp, new one, which this year we are going to keep in better order than before, is opened gently to a pristine blank page. With the dawning of a new year there is the chance to leave the past year behind.

But how many of us actually get to the 1^st January before having to open our new diary? How many of us have that joy of putting last year’s diary away? Things have to be planned and organised in advance so the new diary is opened long before January actually arrives and already looks battered and worn out as the new year dawns. Things don’t end and start with the turning of the year, they continue, so last year’s diary needs to stay close at hand just to remind us where we are and what’s been done. That new start with the new year isn’t such a new start anymore, in fact its not really a new start at all, its just another day. The chance to reflect, to start over, to hope with the coming of a new year seems to be lost because ‘life just isn’t like that’. 

The 1^st January can just feel like another day, but I don’t think we’ve completely lost sight of the fact that a new year has dawned. We may be a little more prepared for the year that lies ahead than just having a new diary, but there is no less hope to be had; no less dreaming to be done. 

We have just finished the season of Advent, moved through the season of Christmas and are now heading for the season of Epiphany. These three seasons are seasons where as the Church not only do we celebrate new beginnings, but also faithfully look forward with hope. As the magi travelled from the east, the only certainty they had was the star in the sky and all they could do was faithfully following it in the hope it would lead them to the Christ Child. And as the story goes, it does, although they do take a slight detour which has unforeseen repercussions. But the negative of the story shouldn’t overshadow the positive—things may not quite go to plan, but a ‘maybe’ isn’t a good enough reason not to set out on the journey at all; not to have hopes and dreams and work towards them. Anyway, whether we like it or not, new starts happen which make us look forward—the seasons change, years end and start. 

There is that English tradition of the bells of church steeples near and far ringing the old year out and welcoming the new—marking that transition of the year as we watch the clock turn from 11.59pm to 12.00am. In a sonnet for the New Year¹, Malcolm Guite, chaplain of Girton College, Cambridge, beautifully used the image of these bells to show the significance the turning of the year:

…As surely, soundly, deeply as these bells
That sound and find and call is all at once.
‘Ears of my ears’ can hear, my body feels
This call to prayer that is itself a dance.
So ring them out in joy and jubilation,
Sound them in sorrow tolling for the lost,
O let then wake the Church and rouse the nation,
A sleeping lion stirred to life at last,
Begin again they sing, again begin…

The dawning of the new year should be the chance for us to begin again, but not in the sense that we forget all that has gone before. The tolling of the bells are to reawaken us to hope; the future hope that entered the world as baby that first Christmas and the hope that has been given to each of us by the man who was hung on a cross and then conquered death that first Easter.

¹ Malcolm Guite, 2012. Sounding the Seasons: Seventy Sonnets for the Christian Year. Norwich: Canterbury Press, p.18