The resurrection that no one can stop

Acts 4: 5 The next day their rulers, elders, and scribes assembled in Jerusalem, 6with Annas the high priest, Caiaphas, John, and Alexander, and all who were of the high-priestly family. 7When they had made the prisoners stand in their midst, they inquired, ‘By what power or by what name did you do this?’ 8Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, ‘Rulers of the people and elders, 9if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed, 10let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead. 11This Jesus is
“the stone that was rejected by you, the builders;
it has become the cornerstone.”
12There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved.’

(Plus John 10:11-18)

I’m continuing to ask, as I asked on Easter Day, what is the Good News for us this morning?

So this is what we’re considering this morning. First, the fact of the resurrection: it’s happened – it’s OUT THERE and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. Second: some people are going to come up against it. Third: What happens today when that righteous power that raised Jesus from the dead, meets injustice? Fourth: What is the challenge for us who live 2000 years after the resurrection? And Finally: What is the Good News for us?

Today we continue in Acts and we see Peter and John brought before the religious authorities after encountering a man who couldn’t walk, begging at one of the entrances to the temple. It’s always awkward to see somebody begging so close to a religious building. It makes us feel bad. One can hardly ignore it. It makes me recall a time when Chris and I were in Chartres Cathedral on Easter Morning. On the way into the cathedral, just at the door, there was a man begging and taken by surprise, I filed pas like everyone else, and did nothing.

But it played on my mind, and as we went out, overcoming my inward battle, I parted with the large slice of home-made pizza we had bought at the nearest boulangerie before the service had started.

Peter and John do something a whole lot more useful though. “Silver and gold I have none, but what I have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ, stand up and walk!” At once the man’s feet and ankles are made strong; he jumps up and begins to walk. He enters the Temple we are told: ‘walking and leaping and praising God’. As a healed man he can now take part in Temple worship; he can get a job and make his way in the world. His begging days are over.

The power of the resurrection coupled with the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on the believers is OUT THERE and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. That’s the picture we see here this morning. It’s like something’s been let out of the bag and it cannot be put back in again.

The healing of the crippled man is the very next thing recorded after Pentecost. So, the resurrection life – the life of the Spirit is OUT THERE and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it. But some will try, and this is what we see in the reading from Acts.

Peter and John heal, in the name of Jesus, the man at the Beautiful Gate. When the people hear what’s happened, they run towards the scene utterly astonished, and Peter gives an impromptu sermon. At this moment, the priests, the captain of the Temple and the Sadducees come out ‘much annoyed’ (for this, read ‘steaming with fury’). They’re annoyed because of two things: Peter’s teaching the people and claiming that in Jesus there is resurrection. Not just Jesus’ resurrection but the possibility of resurrection for all.

So the religious authorities react in the way that people of power do when they’re threatened, which is: to use force and try and put the lid on it. They arrest Peter and John and put them in jail overnight. Meanwhile, the number of those that come to faith as a result of Peter’s sermon, is 5000. The following morning the prisoners are made to stand in front of the ruling elite, who enquire how they have done this healing. And we are talking about The Elite of the Jewish religion. We hear a lot about elites these days. Elites do whatever they want, with minimal regard for the consequences on ordinary people.

Many harmful readings of this episode in Acts have led to condemnation of the Jews as a people – but the New Testament shows that it is the powerful Elite, who claim to know God, whom Jesus stood against and who now stand against his followers. This is about a power struggle and about the powerful Elite sensing that something greater than them is afoot. It is difficult not to call to mind here the verdict against Derek Chauvin, the police officer who this week was charged with the murder of George Floyd, a black man who was arrested and forcefully pinned down until he literally expired.

Which leads us onto a question for today. What happens when the righteous power of the resurrection is out there, and no one can stop it, and that power encounters injustice? The short answer is: conflict. Nick Page, in his book Kingdom Fools, about the unlikely rise of the early church, says that ‘the resurrection is a political message. The early church preached resurrection. That is what Peter and John are saying to the temple powers: the man you killed came back from the dead’ (p.32).

The Roman Empire was built on the premise that if you dissented, you were got rid of. Some societies work like that still today – we know who they are; we often mention the people who live in societies like that in our prayers. But here are two disciples of Jesus, who are not theologically educated, preaching to rapt crowds and performing an astonishing sign, like the ones performed by Jesus. And it is seen as a direct challenge to the Elite.

The verdict against the police officer who killed George Floyd is a landmark moment. What was going on when the largely black crowds gathered outside the courtroom heard the verdict of guilty? They couldn’t help shouting and pumping the air because although the power of God is OUT THERE, the struggle against injustice is slow and often feels brutal. With regards to racism, the struggle is particularly highlighted at the moment. The world is crying out for justice.

This is where a lot of us might begin to squirm, because the Church of England has put its own hand up this week and the Archbishop of Canterbury has said the Church is ‘deeply institutionally racist’. Some of you will have watched the Panorama programme on Monday about this and heard the stories of Black and Ethnic minority priests in the Church of England and some of their depressing experiences. And this at the same time as a Government appointed commission has reported that the UK doesn’t have any institutionalised racism, apparently. I’ll leave you to decide what’s going on there.

The scenes of jubilation outside the courtroom where Derek Chauvin was convicted were not about glee at his suffering, but about a sense that justice had been done, and against the odds. The Black community is used to justice not being done, because the system has often let them down. I was caught up in those scenes of joy because justice is at the heart of God, and the resurrection declares that Jesus is Lord, and Lord over unjust white privilege and violence. To say Jesus is Lord, even Lord over death, is to say Jesus Christ has ultimate authority, not anyone or anything else. And that changes everything.

So, what are the challenges for us who live 2000 years after this initial release of resurrection power? I think we have to be honest and say that while the healing of the crippled man is an exciting story, normally we don’t see this kind of miraculous healing in our situations today. Perhaps we should be more expectant. Maybe our lack of expectancy is a self-fulfilling prophecy. However, it is more complex than that in the West. If we think of that first resurrection power spilling out and the transforming effect it had on the first century society we read about in Acts, we can trace a direct line to the kind of Christ-inspired works of charity, mercy and healing that most people now take for granted as being the hallmarks of civilised society. Universal education, healthcare and end of life care flow directly from the ongoing impulse to heal and save that Christ event propelled into the world, and which eventually flowed out of the monasteries and abbeys of Christian Europe into mainstream society.

In addition, in the 21st C we are rightly cautious about how we proclaim Christ as Lord because we need to find to ways to live in peace with our neighbours of other faiths. The kind of Christianity that aggressively defends orthodoxy, whilst dallying with unchecked temporal power led us at one point into the Crusades. Today the Far Right want to appropriate the English flag of St George to nationalistic ends that have nothing to do with Jesus Christ. So we might want to ask ourselves in this context, what does proclamation of the good news look like in a multi-faith society and how do we sit with the verse in Acts that declares ‘there is no other name under heaven, given among mortals by which we must be saved’?

So we have these challenges: we’re a long way historically from the resurrection and things are complicated because Christendom got tangled up with white privilege. In addition, we already have a sophisticated healthcare system and are unused to instant miraculous healing. And finally, although we want to affirm that Jesus is ‘the only name’, we are also called to humility in a multifaith setting.

So, if this miraculous healing feels like a long way off, what, then, is the good news? The Good News is that it’s still OUT THERE. The power of the resurrection is still reverberating through history and we are witnesses to it because Christ lives amongst us. That is the definition of a church – the gathered people of God, the body of Christ. Every time we meet in his name, he is present. He is present in bread and wine and in our worship and fellowship. He is present in our care one for the other; in our giving and protesting, as we try to make a difference in the world.

And he is still calling others to follow him – those who are ‘not yet in the sheepfold’, as he puts it in John 10. ‘My sheep hear my voice’.  We’re still living within the ramifications of the resurrection, both personally, whenever we are faced with loss or a seemingly hopeless situation, and corporately as we seek to work with God’s Spirit in the healing of the world he came to save. He is alive and we are witnesses to his life. As we are formed by his Spirit, others will know that he is alive and so we pray that God will bring us into fellowship with those others he is still calling.


(image credit: BBC news website)

hole in the ground

Second Sunday before Advent, November 15th 2020,

1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

5Now concerning the times and the seasons, brothers and sisters, you do not need to have anything written to you. 2For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. 3When they say, ‘There is peace and security’, then sudden destruction will come upon them, as labour pains come upon a pregnant woman, and there will be no escape! 4But you, beloved, are not in darkness, for that day to surprise you like a thief; 5for you are all children of light and children of the day; we are not of the night or of darkness. 6So then, let us not fall asleep as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober; 7for those who sleep sleep at night, and those who are drunk get drunk at night. 8But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, and put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. 9For God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, 10who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him. 11Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.

Matthew 25:14-30

The Parable of the Talents

14 ‘For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them; 15to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. 16The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. 17In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. 18But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money. 19After a long time the master of those slaves came and settled accounts with them. 20Then the one who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five more talents, saying, “Master, you handed over to me five talents; see, I have made five more talents.” 21His master said to him, “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.” 22And the one with the two talents also came forward, saying, “Master, you handed over to me two talents; see, I have made two more talents.” 23His master said to him, “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.” 24Then the one who had received the one talent also came forward, saying, “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; 25so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.” 26But his master replied, “You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? 27Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. 28So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. 29For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. 30As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever read something over and over and ended up being less sure about its meaning the more you read it?


I found this happening to me this week with the parable of the talents. I used to think I knew what it meant. Perhaps you know what it means! I’d like us to explore this morning what it feels like to read scripture with an open mind and an open heart.


It’s certainly a good little story – easy to remember and retell. It has a familiar fairy tale beginning: a man goes on a journey. Before leaving he summons his three servants and entrusts each of them with a large some of money. Again, the structure is like a fairy tale – we know the drill – the first servant did this; the second one did essentially the same, on a smaller scale, and the third – did something rogue.


In some fairy tales, the third person stands out from the others by being the surprising hero. Think Jesse and his sons in the OT: each son came before Samuel but none was right, till the youngest, David, turned up. And against all the odds he was THE ONE. Or take this well-known story: there are two older sisters who are ugly and unkind but the youngest, Cinderella, who sweeps the hearth, emerges as the true princess.


I wonder whom you most identify with in this parable. Getting in touch with our gut reactions when we read scripture seems important because it tells us about ourselves and might be a good first step before we engage more cerebrally. The first hearers of Jesus’ parables were often unsettled by what he said. The Samaritan wasn’t supposed to be good; the reckless son wasn’t supposed to be treated generously; the workers in the vineyard weren’t all supposed to receive the same wage. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. There would have been outrage! There would have been post sermon fallout! There would not have been a polite handshake at the church door and the comment: ‘nice sermon, vicar.’


It’s much harder for us to come fresh to the parables, because after decades of listening to sermons on them, we’ve been told what they mean, and by and large we read them theologically, not personally.


So I invite you to listen to the story again and try and discern whom you most identify with. Try in this exercise to put away what your brain and church training is telling you and focus on the emotional impact. I sometimes worry that listening to a large number of sermons about what this and that means, has inured us to reacting honestly to Jesus’ words and being able to see their force in today’s situations.

(read story out loud)

Here’s what happened when I did this exercise in the week. This is my stream of consciousness, if you like (I would love to know how yours went – were you able to get into one?)


The Master

I didn’t much like him. His moods seemed rather changeable. One minute he’s congratulating a servant, the next he’s getting irate. He’s described by the third slave as ‘reaping where he didn’t sow, and gathering where he didn’t scatter seed’, which I take to mean he benefits from others’ hard work without necessarily acknowledging their input. He’s the most unlikely person to say “I stand here today on the shoulders of others who have gone before me”. He puts profit over people, calls another human being ‘worthless’, which Jesus said we shouldn’t do, and casts him out because he’s been ‘unprofitable’. I imagine him shouting when he says ‘give his talent to the one who has five; for to those who have, more will be given…but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away’, which is probably the origin of the unfortunate misquotation: ‘God helps those who help themselves’. I have to be honest – it made me think of the outgoing president of the United States.


The first and second slaves

I felt pretty neutral about these two. They were obviously very capable. Like very gifted stockbrokers both somehow managed to double the money entrusted to them, but there’s no information about how this was achieved. Often with very large returns, there has either been a high element of risk (which could’ve backfired) or others might have been treated poorly in the process of maximizing profit – think ‘gig economy’. Because they’ve been successful in their investments, they will be going on to higher things. I want to be generous and say they were faithful; but taking the story at face value, I feel they were being rewarded for being successful. And they were pretty lucky: in the 1980s we took out an endowment mortgage with the suggestion it would return at least triple over 25 years. I can tell you that ours spectacularly underperformed.


The third slave.

Even just saying that and I already feel myself to be on the side of the underdog. I mean it’s bad enough being a slave, but ‘third slave’? Did you hear about the research that showed that people who’d played Mary or Joseph in their primary school nativity had gone on to earn more and be more successful than those who were given, like me, ‘third angel’, or ‘third shepherd’, or even ‘back end of donkey’?


So – third slave. He’s apparently the least able, and he has a negative view of the Master, whom he calls harsh. But is he right? Being entrusted with money brings him out in a cold sweat. He’s a careful guy. Refusing to join in with the trading scheme, he digs a hole in the ground to keep the money safe. There’s something either pathetic and sad or courageous and prophetic about that digging. When the master comes back, he safely returns the money.


We’re all being told to play it safe at the moment: stay home, save lives, protect the NHS, etc. I think the third slave would be seen as a good citizen at this time. Perhaps he knows the banks are corrupt so he’s done the only sensible thing: the equivalent of hiding his savings under the mattress. For which he gets a rollicking, and is not merely sacked, but thrown into outer darkness, whatever that means. It seems a slight over reaction.


So that is my emotional response, and the reason I found this talk so difficult to write, is that my emotional response is at odds with my theological intimation. I don’t know if that ever happens to you. If you were able to hear the story straightforwardly and feel nothing but praise for the slaves who invested their master’s money and contempt for the one who was afraid – I kind of envy you! That would have been much simpler, and it’s always easier to go with the flow…


But let’s just go with feelings for now. I wonder what comes to mind about the times we live in today, when this parable is brought to bear? We are seeing more and more the limits of unregulated capitalism – this was one of the things we talked about as a group of us looked at Naomi Klein’s book “On Fire” this week. I know this is a political thing to say but it would seem that the trickle down effect hasn’t worked – instead the rich are getting richer and the poor are getting poorer and sometimes I feel ashamed to be British.


The government tried really hard to resist the call of Marcus Rashford to provide free school meals for the children of poor families over half term, arguing that local councils to whom they’d already given money could provide. They later bowed to intense public pressure and completely changed tack.


Wealth creation isn’t wrong in itself; the problem comes at the distribution stage. There is a lot of power in someone famous saying: “I remember what it was like to go to bed hungry”. It helps us imagine what that must do to a person’s view of life, how the world must truly seem like a place of scarcity instead of a place full of  – what? – the generous abundance of God?


Maybe we should feel compassion for the third slave because Christ is to be found with those who have nothing, who feel worthless, who hunger and weep in the dark. The parable of the sheep and the goats, immediately following this parable even suggests when we feed the hungry, clothe the naked and visit the prisoner; that is when we unknowingly minister to Christ. And not to feed the hungry is seen as worthy of judgment, just as some judged the government for failing to feed children over half term.


The very fact that some of us might feel sympathy for the third slave shows the deep effect of the Christian message on the Western imagination; something argued by Tom Holland in his book Dominion, so I make no apologies for feeling this way.


On the other hand, am I trying to justify myself? Am I over sentimentalizing the parable and reading my own personal perspective into the text, rather than drawing out the original meaning (eisegesis, not exegesis)? These are all questions of hermeneutics, and they are important.


So what is my head telling me about this parable? What is your head telling you? What is significant about this master coming back to settle accounts? What does it mean to be faithful in the lesser things?


The best way I can describe what I think it means theologically it is by quoting the poet Mary Oliver in The Summer Day, a poem in which she spends the day contemplating the beautiful outdoors. Everything around her is an abundant gift from the creator, even the grasshopper whom she watches as she ‘lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face’. It’s all a free gift and given for our enjoyment. Therefore, in view of all this grace she asks in the last two lines:


‘Tell me, what is it you plan to do

With your one wild and precious life?’


Contrary to the expectations of that child who goes to bed hungry and knows only scarcity, there is in fact a beautiful and plentiful world out there, given us by a prodigious God, for everyone to enjoy. When we know this, when we let that abundance flow freely through us and out to others in a channel of blessing, when we are generous we discover that the more we give, the more we receive – that is the law of abundance – like the law of compound interest, the more you invest, the more you get back, exponentially.


So be careful with parables – don’t lose the shock factor! Let yourself be stirred up. A parable means something is ‘thrown down alongside’ something else. It’s a metaphor, like saying ‘God is a rock’. We can all guess what we mean when we say ‘God is a rock’’. At one level this illuminates our understanding of God, but at another level it obscures it. Because God is in fact quite beyond a rock – God is in fact so different from his creation that in many ways he is unknowable (for those of you who like labels, that’s the difference between kataphatic and apophatic spirituality). So I think we have to be careful assuming the master of the parable is God or Jesus, for example.


And one last thought: as we move liturgically towards Advent, we can’t escape the idea of the wrapping up of history, particularly the role of judgment. Matthew chapter 24 and 25 is one whole discourse about the question put to Jesus: ‘what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?’ (Matt. 24:3). Jesus tells this parable at the end of his ministry, shortly before he is handed over to darkness where he will hold nothing back for our deliverance.


So we read scripture and scripture reads us. If you have a strong reaction to something in the bible, listen to it! The bible has broad shoulders. Judgment is a difficult topic for us, but judgment is not a bad thing in itself. If you recoil from the idea of judgment, just remember that not a small number of people celebrated the judgment of the American people this week as they voted out Donald Trump by a margin of 5 million.


How are you investing today?



Crib talk for Carols by Candlelight


This is a first for me, leading a carol service that properly features a crib.

It’s great to have a visual focus like a crib, at Christmas.

We can experience God in a different way when we really focus visually on something, rather than hearing words.

I invite you to look and really LOOK into the crib this evening, and see what it says to us about Christmas time.

The nativity is a hugely iconic image that still resonates today.

I’ve been thinking a bit about Christmas adverts this year – the Mulberry ad (high end handbags) from a few years back showed a young middle class couple sitting by the fireside as she gently unwraps a gift that he has given her.

She is so excited because it’s a very special gift, a gift she’s been longing for for a while.

It’s a Mulberry handbag – in soft red leather.

She praises the gift over and over and she thanks him, and it all feels reasonably normal (except I’m thinking that I could never afford a Mulberry handbag and even if I could I wouldn’t want one).

Then there’s a knock at the door – a couple of guys with a sheep come in and approach hesitatingly and kneel, and wonder at the gift of the bag.

Another knock on the door and three guys with paper hats come in, carrying wine and perfume, and look on in wonder at the bag.

After a moment the woman’s boyfriend (looking slightly uncomfortable) says “guys, it’s only a bag”.

Everyone looks puzzled, then they laugh and the music fades and pans to a bright light shining over their fireplace.

The ad works because it suggests that the bag is not a proper object of worship, but also subtly suggests that it could be.

When we look into the crib today we see what is often called “The Holy Family”.

I’ve always found that term slightly off putting!

I wonder how you view family at this time?

We’re acutely aware at Christmas that not having a family, or having fled from a dysfunctional one, is a main reason that many feel lonely and isolated at Christmas.

The Church family is an alternative and very effective and loving one (when it works) for those who do not have actual family.

For those of us lucky to spend time with family at this time, it can also be a source of stress (let’s be honest).

I don’t think the Holy Family was without it stresses.

In one sense, their stresses might sound quite familiar!

I wonder how many you identify with?

Firstly there was the gossip about how Mary got into that state in the first place.

And there was misunderstanding.

And there was marital tension around how to handle the situation.

Then they had to travel at a difficult and busy time of year, when everyone else was also travelling.

Their accommodation plans were thwarted and they had to think on their feet.

They had to deal with physical, emotional and spiritual pressures that were at times overwhelming.

Their new surroundings weren’t really all they had hoped for.

They would like to have remained at home in a place that was familiar.

The place wasn’t as clean as she would’ve liked it!

They had unexpected visitors.

Some of the visitors stayed longer than expected.

They were given things that weren’t on anybody’s list and that couldn’t be returned.


But also, for the Holy Family, there were unlooked for blessings:

I hope, by God’s grace, you can also identify with some of these:


Despite everything, they experienced the guidance of God.

Despite everything, they experienced the provision of God.

They were given one message loud and clear: “Do not be afraid”.

They found themselves right at the centre of God’s good purposes.

They discovered God was with them.

Their experience was a source of blessing for other people.

They were surrounded by joy.

God was glorified through their obedience.

When all was said and done, there was much to ponder and be grateful for in the stillness and quiet of one human heart.


May we all know God’s blessing in our holy families this Christmas.


And now a blessing for the crib.










Advent nourishment

At this time of year we get to enjoy seven “Advent Antiphons” when we say Morning Prayer, and I always look forward to them.

The ‘O Antiphons’ developed in the early church as sung prayers before and after Mary’s hymn, the Magnificat. They refer to different names of Jesus from the Old Testament Wisdom and prophetic books.

And like hymns, they do sing. Even if you don’t know any Latin, having them interlace the daily Office is like having swallowed something rich and fulfilling that will last you throughout the sometimes tiring preparation for Christmas. They’re a veritable feast of linguistic/poetic/theological allusions.

O Sapientia: 17 December.

Sapientia is wisdom. The feminine divine perhaps. The word drips juice, like sap. Sapientia…’Sweet the rain’s new fall, sunlit from heaven, like the first dew fall on the first grass…’ Wisdom – she was there at the beginning.

O Adonai: 18 December

Adonai is Lord. Adonis. Beautiful One. Christ identified as beautiful man and God Almighty. A trinitarian allusion and a fairly clear one at that.

O Radix Jesse: 19 December

It means Root of Jesse. Jesse’s more famous son was King David. Like in Cinderella, Jesse was asked ‘are these all the sons you have?’ after he paraded out all his older strapping lads. But there was still David the shepherd boy:’Great David’s greater son’, and a pre-echo of God’s only son. Radix: root. Radishes. Radical. Allusion upon allusion.

O Clavis: David: 20 December

Clavis means key. The key which opens and no one can shut. The key which locks and no one can open. Better to be on the right side than the wrong side of that key then, because once he opens up something, there’s no stopping it, despite all the depressing church attendance statistics you might read of.

O Oriens: 21 December

Oriens is the Morning Star: ‘O Morning stars together proclaim the holy birth, and praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on earth.’
Then there’s Venus, the Morning Star, hanging there in the dewy mist as the day breaks…

O Rex Gentium: 22 December
It means King of the people, as in: ’God rest ye merry, Gentium, let nothing you dismay…’!

O Emmanuel: 23 December
Easy, this one. God with us.’O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel.’

I think of the O Antiphons like a plum pudding – rich and full of goodness; ancient and long lasting. A wonderful mixture of things which fill and nourish in ways supermarket Christmas food adverts cannot compete with.

Happy munching.


All Hallows

31 October – All Hallows Eve – and it’s an in between kind of time.

In between because late autumn the year turns, the clocks tick back, and we resign ourselves to the temporary dying of nature as the leaves swirl down the streets towards winter and the end of another year.

In between the liturgical marking of Harvest and Advent, we sit in the season of remembering: All Saints, All Souls and the red of Remembrance. Christian faith has so much to say about the living and the dead, and about the saints – both the common or garden church attender – and there are thousands of remarkable ordinary saints – and those who are more famous, like John the Evangelist and Stephen the martyr.

Having invented All Hallows ourselves, Christians have lost ground to the secularists when it comes to contemporary celebrations of Hallowe’en. These lie somewhere in between much orange plastic, false white cobwebs and E number overload at one end, and full on cinematic horror at the other: “As our real world becomes ever more terrifying, filmmakers have stepped up their game to use horror as a way to analyse the nightmare of our off-screen lives”, Esquire magazine reminds us.


Thus we use the encroaching darkness of the days to indulge our fascination with unthinkable things…
As to Christians and contemporary practices of Hallowe’en, in my experience Christian parents in villages end up reasonably happy for their children to embrace the harmless fun that is parentally supervised trick or treating with optional home made ghost costumes – after all there are only about 6 streets and most people know each other.


Meanwhile Christians in large evangelical churches will be throwing a light party, or, even better, a Superhero party. Which is obviously loads of fun, but I’m not sure it exactly helps anyone to explore the darker side of our humanity, which will inevitably catch us up if we’re unaware. But perhaps that can wait till childhood has been left behind.


When we had a churchyard at the end of our garden, I used to imagine conducting an evening churchyard Hallowe’en tour, complete with tea lights and hymns. There is something in us that is both fascinated and repelled by the idea of the realm of the dead, and I think there would have been takers – a kind of ‘Take Back Control’ of Hallowe’en. But I never quite pulled it off.

Nationally the UK is paused between the rising and falling of two political visions, balanced like weights on a scale: Remain or Leave; collaborate or Take Back Control. We were due to leave the EU today. As we wade further into the drawn out future of Brexit, what might die, what might be reborn?


Personally speaking, being in between can provide valuable space in which to discover something new about yourself. In between jobs, in between life stages, in between letting something or someone go and embracing something or someone… The in between is a spiritual opportunity, a chance to grow, if we don’t lose our nerve.

The in between is a liminal place, a place where we are (if we can only notice it) lovingly held. Between summer and winter; between the past and the future; between the devil and the deep blue Conservative sea.

We hold our collective breath and wait.

Meanwhile, Happy In-Between-All-Hallows-Eve.