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Palm Sunday 24th March 2024

The Palm Gospel Mark 11:1-11

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples 2and 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. 3If anyone says to you, “Why are you doing this?” just say this, “The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.” ’ 4They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, 5some of the bystanders said to them, ‘What are you doing, untying the colt?’ 6They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. 7Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. 8Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. 9Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, ‘Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! 10Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’ 11 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.


 

A refection for Lent V Passion Sunday 17th March 2024 by Canon Dean Fostekew

Here is a young man, who was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He was raised in another village. He worked in his adoptive father’s carpenter’s shop until he was 30, and then for three years he was an itinerant preacher. He never wrote a book. He never held any public office. He never owned a home. He never had a family. He never went to university. He never set foot inside a big city. He only travelled 2000 miles from where he was born. He never did any of the things that we might associate with greatness. He had no credentials but himself. 

 While he was a young man, the tide of public opinion turned against him. His friends ran away. He was given over to his enemies. He went though the mockery of a trial. He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While dying, his executioners gambled for the only piece of property he had on Earth, his coat. When he was dead, he was laid in a borrowed tomb, through the pity of a friend.     Anon.

When one looks at Jesus’ life in those stark terms it could appear that he didn’t do very much. His life was pretty unremarkable until his trial and death. One traumatic week out of 33 years of life. Not much really, and he would have been forgotten had he not risen from the dead!

You can read back into the Old Testament prophesies about the hoped for Messiah to gain something more glorious about Jesus’ life but you can only do this with the knowledge of hindsight. And, the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews can only write as they do well after the resurrection of Jesus and many years of pondering on what that event actually meant. Jesus never saw himself as a High Priest, all he sought to do was the will of God. 

Yet, Jesus achieved and did remarkable things even if at first sight they seem pretty small. There were other preachers and agitators who probably achieved more before their deaths than Jesus did; but it was his death and resurrection that sets him well apart from anyone else in history. When we look back on Jesus’ life though the lens of the resurrection we can begin to see, I think, how he was given the strength to do the things he did and how we too might be given strength to do things we did not think were possible as well.

Today’s Gospel reading from John 12 gives us a few clues. Jesus knows full well that he cannot be saved from his fate and he tells his disciples so:

“… what shall I say: Father save me from this hour? But it was for this very reason that I have come to this hour.”       John 12:27b

We know also from the other Gospel accounts that Jesus did wonder if he had the strength to do what was asked by God of him. Think of his agony in the Garden of Gethsemane; ‘How can I do this?’; Is this really what I must do?’ Until as St.Luke tells us he says; “Let your will be done, not mine.” (Luke 27)

All of us at some time in our lives come to a point when we have to say to God; “Let your will be done.” It can be a difficult and painful journey to that point and an upsetting place to be in but it can also be liberating. For once we can truly say and really mean what we say in the words; “Let your will be done” we leave behind our old selfish natures and fully open ourselves to the will of God through the working of the Holy Spirit. 

Perhaps it is Jesus’ imagery of the grain of wheat becoming a crop of corn which holds the key to our understanding of what surrendering to God truly means:

“ … unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”  John 20:24

The ancient understanding of the process of germination may to our ears today seem a bit confused, the seed does not die it changes. By ‘dying’ or germination one single gain of wheat becomes an ear of corn with many grains, these in their turn form part of a larger harvest - from the one comes the many. By dying to self-will we open ourselves to the possibility of God achieving much more in us than we might do on our own. Remember Jesus submitted himself to his Father’s will and literally changed the world. An anonymous writer wrote:

“… centuries have passed, and today he (Christ) is the central figure of the human race and leader of the column of progress. I am far within the mark, when I say that all the armies that have ever marched, and all the navies that were ever built, and all the parliaments that have ever sat, and all the kings that have ever resigned, put together, have not affected the life upon this Earth as has that one solitary life.”

When we can say ‘Yes’ to God and submit to his will; we stop being solitary beings and are transformed from being like single grains of wheat into part of a much larger crop and harvest. Our efforts unite with each other, and God, to achieve more than we could ever achieve on our own and in doing so we build the Kingdom of God here on Earth - TOGETHER. 

The life of one man, Jesus changed the world for the better. His passion to try and do his Father’s will was transformative and the effects of that passion still reverberate throughout Creation today and will do so for all time. But, it is not just his passion and energy that continues to change things today and tomorrow but ours as well when we join with him in seeking to do the will of our God and Creator.


 

A reflection for Mothering Sunday Lent IV Sunday 10th March 2024 by Judy Wedderspoon Lay Reader

The fourth Sunday in Lent is traditionally known and celebrated as Mothering Sunday. This is an old tradition. It was the Sunday in Lent when girls in service were allowed to go home and visit their mothers. It was also the Sunday on which it was customary to visit the local cathedral as the mother church of the diocese. More recently, and perhaps regrettably, this Sunday has been effectively renamed Mother’s Day. Let us for a moment put all that aside and consider what today’s readings are telling us!

Our Old Testament reading from the First Book of Samuel, gives us a picture of Samuel’s mother, Hannah. In order to understand the passage, you need a bit of background. Hannah is one of two wives of Elkanah, a devout Israelite. She is childless, a deep disgrace for which the other wife, Penninah, repeatedly taunts her, year after year when they go to make sacrifice to God. One year, Hannah in her misery goes privately to offer prayer to God. She prays for a child and, as part of that prayer, she vows solemnly that if she is given a son, she will dedicate him to God. Eli, the old priest who hears her prayer, blesses her, so she returns home in hope.

And Hannah conceives and bears a son – the gift of God, as she names him. But she does not forget her vow. As soon as he is weaned – about age 3 -   he will be dedicated to God.  And, as we have heard, she fulfils her vow. Samuel will be a Nazirite, effectively a monk in the service of God.

Does Hannah remind you of anyone in the New Testament? Think of Elisabeth, Mary’s cousin, also disgraced by her childlessness. She is at last to bear a son. But the angel has already told Zechariah that her son is to be totally dedicated to God. She will have to be ready to let him go. John too will be a Nazirite.

Think also of Mary herself. She knows from the outset that the son she is to bear will be special, the Son of God. But when she and Joseph come to present the infant Jesus in the temple, Simeon tells her that her baby will be the glory of Israel – but that a sword will pierce her heart [Luke 2:32 and 34]. She too must be prepared to let him go to live his dedicated life.

Letting go is one of the hardest lessons we have to learn in life. I will never forget my son’s first day in kindergarten. I dropped him off and he trotted away, all anticipation that he was finally joining his big sister in her school. He didn’t even turn around to wave. I sat in the car and wept.

It’s not just letting go of a child that is hard. It’s letting go of a spouse, a parent, a brother or sister or a beloved friend, or even a dog or a cat. It’s letting go of a home, of one’s health or eyesight or hearing, or of cherished possessions. I sometimes think that the most we can hope for when feeling the loss of letting go is to be able to say with Job “the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord” [Job 1:21].

But today’s Gospel reading gives us another insight into letting go.

We do not know how the three Marys came to be at the foot of Jesus’ cross. We know that John had followed Jesus and the soldiers into the courtyard of the high priest’s house. We can fairly I think surmise that John continued to follow and watch until he heard his Lord condemned to death. Perhaps then he sought out the women and brought them to the site of crucifixion. 

Looking down from the cross after his night of agony and torture, Jesus sees his mother, and even in his pain he realises that his earthly work is not quite done. He has to let go of his mother. He has to help her finally to let go of him. So he commends her to the care of John, his beloved friend and disciple. They are to be as mother and son to each other. Only then can Jesus take a final drink and exclaim “It is finished”.

 Sometimes that is how we too are enabled to let go. Our gracious Lord provides a friend, or some other help and consolation, music perhaps, or a poem, or a precious landscape, to assist us over the initial pain of bereavement, even as we know that it will never be the same again. Letting go is a process that is never quite completed It is an essential part of motherhood – and of life.

But let us note and take to heart the words of St Paul: “clothe yourselves with love… let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts… and be thankful” [Colossians 3:14-15]. That is the message I would leave with you on this Mothering Sunday.


 

A reflection for Lent III 3rd March 2024 by Canon Dean Fostekew

You might not believe it but I can get quite grumpy at times over certain things! I suspect that you might be similar - our Lord certainly was! 

Imagine coming home to discover that a relative had set up shop in your drawing room without permission. You’d be quite cross. I know that I would be. It must have been a bit like that of Jesus that day in the Temple when he entered the holy place (his Father’s house) to pray and discovered it to be like a market place with all sense of sanctity gone. 

Part of the Jewish worship practice at the time involved blood sacrifice for sin (you can see the parallels in Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross). Worshippers were encouraged to buy an animal for slaughter that would carry their sins for them and with its ritual death purify the sinner. The animal became the ‘scapegoat’ sacrifice. 

The bigger the sin, the bigger the animal needed to sacrifice. It became big business for the Temple as those wishing atonement were unlikely able to travel very far with the required animal sacrifice. Hence the presence of those selling cattle, sheep and doves. It was lucrative and again hence the presence of the money-changers. Nothing came free. You had to buy the animal and you probably had to change coins to do so and were charged an exchange fee, just as we are today when buying foreign currency. A lot of people got rich on the needs of others. No wonder Jesus was furious. This wasn’t how it was meant to be.

In over-tuning the tables and whipping the money-changers Jesus won no friends in the Temple hierarchy. He threatened their living and where money is involved people will sometimes go to extremes to keep it. If his preaching hadn’t been radical enough this act of righteous anger in his father’s house basically sealed his fate. As we know the authorities acted quickly and within days Jesus was dead on the Cross. 

I indicated earlier the parallels between the sacrificial animals and Jesus who would become the sacrificial Lamb of God. The animals were seen to take away individual sin; Jesus being God, however, takes away all the sin of humanity for all time. 

If we jump back to the reading from Exodus we can read the laws by which God says he is pleased if we follow them and in keeping them that he will bless us until the end of time. Simple commandments to follow but not always easy to keep. But, none-the-less guidelines to help us live our lives. God knows that we will struggle to keep the commandments but hopes that we will at least try to do so. 

Paul, reminds us of the power of the Cross and of Jesus’ sacrifice for our sins (as mad as that might appear to some). How could one man’s death save us from ourselves? Well, when that man was fully God as well, we get the answer. 

God in Jesus paid the ultimate price once and for all time. His death did away with the need for the blood sacrifice of animals and we are reminded of that every time we receive Holy Communion. Jesus’ sacrifice freed us from all costs. We do not have to pay to have our sins forgiven we just have to freely repent .

In cleansing the Temple of what Jesus knew was unnecessary and in giving his human life he wiped the slate clean for all of us. Every day he offers us a new start so long as we can acknowledge our mistakes and repent of them. He is the eternal blood sacrifice that we do not have to buy because his sacrifice was not bought with coin, it was bought with love and freely given away to us.

A reflection for Sunday 25th February by the Rev'd David Warnes

Think for a moment about something that you once said about which you now feel embarrassed or ashamed. Don’t be alarmed, I’m not going to ask any of you to share it with us. That moment of recollection will give you some insight into how St Peter must have felt when Jesus rebuked him. It’s a moment that he would never forget, though reflecting on it in the light of Easter he knew that he had been forgiven for this and also for later denying that he knew Jesus. 

We can be confident that today’s Gospel is an accurate record of this exchange between Peter and Jesus because it meets what historians call “the criterion of embarrassment”. It shows Peter, a leader of huge importance in the early decades of the Christian movement, in a bad light. Peter’s words must have been stronger than most translations of the Bible make clear. We read that he rebuked Jesus. The Greek verb that the Gospel writer uses (epitimao) is used elsewhere in the Gospels when Jesus challenges demons. That helps to explain why Jesus reacts by rebuking Peter with the words “Get behind me, Satan.” But there was almost certainly another reason why Jesus said that. He was remembering his forty days of fasting in the wilderness and the temptations that he faced, temptations which all, in different ways, were about the misuse of power. Peter, who has just acknowledged that Jesus is the Messiah, is shocked by Jesus’ prediction of his own suffering, death and resurrection. That didn’t fit his belief about how the Messiah would use his power to liberate and restore Israel. 

If the first part of our Gospel reading meets the criterion of embarrassment, the second part, in which Jesus tells the disciples and the crowd:

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

meets a different test of authenticity, which we might call the criterion of toughness. It’s not the sort of thing you say if your aim is to win friends, influence people or attract supporters. It’s not the sort of thing that politicians will be saying in the coming General Election. And the passage gets tougher still.

“For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

For the first readers of St Mark’s Gospel, those words had an immediate, literal and frightening reality. They knew that Peter, Paul and other Christians had been martyred during the period of persecution ordered by the Emperor Nero. Sadly, these words still have a literal meaning for Christians facing persecution in some parts of the world. What are we to make of this saying, given that we can worship openly and in safety, and that the worst that we face from our contemporaries is indifference or misunderstanding? We are unlikely to be challenged to lose our lives for the sake of the Gospel in a literal sense, but this text challenges us to reflect on the impact that discipleship should have on our lives. 

In thinking about this, I’ve been reminded that the phrase “living your best life” has come into widespread use in recent years, especially on social media. It was first popularised by the American chat show host Oprah Winfrey. Put that phrase in a search engine and you’ll find a range of views as to what it might mean. You’ll find sensible guidance from psychologists and psychotherapists, for example:

“Beware a sense of entitlement to a trouble-free life. No one can claim exemption from hard knocks and unfulfilled expectations, hopes and dreams.”

You’ll also find advice that is rooted in individualism and tends towards selfishness. That’s the thinking that lies behind the kind of tweet which consists of a selfie taken in an exotic holiday destination or an expensive restaurant with the caption “This is me, living my best life”.

This sermon isn’t heading in a puritanical direction. Holidays, entertainments, good food and wine, these are good things to be enjoyed, though our enjoyment should be tempered by an awareness that we are fortunate to be able to enjoy them when many cannot. Today’s Gospel isn’t a call to rigid asceticism. Jesus isn’t saying “deny yourself things that you desire”, though that can be a good short-term Lenten discipline and becomes vital to our spiritual health and to the well-being of others if our desires get out of control. He is saying “deny yourself”. This is an invitation to recognise our own self-centredness and to move away from it, centering our lives on him. Doing so has the potential to transform our relationship with others, enablibng us to live our best life.

We cannot deny ourselves in this sense unless we come to some knowledge of ourselves, our flaws and weaknesses. That kind of self-examination is an important part of discipleship, and Lent is a good time to emphasise it. But that self-examination should always happen within the secure knowledge that we are loved by the God who knows our weaknesses and shortcomings far better than we know them ourselves and that God loves us unreservedly. 

I began by asking you to recollect something about which, on reflection, you feel embarrassed or ashamed. That’s one step on the journey of self-examination but it’s only a first step. If we’re embarrassed about something that we said or did because it made other people think less well of us, we haven’t yet escaped from the prison of our own ego. If, on the other hand, we are regretting the hurt we have caused to someone else then we are acknowledging that we haven’t on that occasion lived our best life and we are opening ourselves to the transformation that the Grace of God makes possible.