Homily at Aldenham School

I offer, for your edification, the text of the homily I preached this morning at Aldenham School. It is a bit of a strange combination: they anticipate the Sunday lectionary readings on Friday mornings (so we have the cleansing of the Temple from John 2), but today is St Patrick's Day so I wanted to get him in too...

It is written “zeal for your house will consume me”.

In our gospel passage we hear of one of the few recorded examples of Jesus getting angry. Here, he has come to the temple to keep the festival of Passover and he finds, not people praying, but traders selling goods and money changers. The house of God seems to have become a marketplace. Living in Camden, famous for its market, I can well understand why this was not what he might have expected.

There is something about unmet expectations that often makes us angry...
I am sure if your teacher arrived late to class and found you all having an absolute wail of a time, chatting, playing around and having fun, but not really doing much work, he may well be annoyed with his class. He expects work, his expectation is unmet and so he is angry. Of course, I am sure this is never the case.

Jesus came to the Temple, he expected prayer and sacrifice. Instead he found tradesmen and worldly business taking place. His expectation was unmet and so he became angry.

His disciples, looking on, remembered the line from the scriptures “zeal for your house will consume me”. This means that they expected Jesus to have a passion for the temple, the house of God.

So far, so good. But what does that mean for us?

In another source Jesus says “the kingdom of God is within you”. The place where God dwells is not a building of stone, like the temple in Jerusalem, but something within us.

Today is St Patrick’s Day. Now, 17th March means drinking Guinness to most people, and that is no bad way to mark it. But there is a little more to St Patrick than shamrock and Guinness.

I want to read a quote from St Patrick’s (kinda) autobiography, his Confessio:

"[God’s] fear increased in me more and more, and the faith grew in me, and the spirit was roused, so that, in a single day, I have said as many as a hundred prayers, and in the night nearly the same, so that whilst in the woods and on the mountain, even before the dawn, I was roused to prayer and felt no hurt from it, whether there was snow or ice or rain; nor was there any slothfulness in me, such as I see now, because the spirit was then fervent within me."

Patrick seems to have a grip on the idea that the presence of God is within him. He shows this chiefly by finding himself able to talk to God wherever he is, whatever he’s doing. He doesn’t need a building of stone to find his God.

And so, the zeal Jesus had for the temple, for the dwelling place of God is the zeal he has for our hearts and souls. There is a hymn that begins “Jesus, lover of my soul”. Jesus is the lover of our souls: the passion he had for his Father’s house, he has for us. He expects that in our hearts God will be found. And indeed, his expectation can be met if we are willing.

It is written “zeal for your house will consume me.”

Amen.

Oh, and happy St Patrick's Day to all my readers. I'll be quaffing much Guinness later.

Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent

Below is the text of the sermon I preached yesterday, for your edification...

Our gospel passage is the latter part of the confession of St Peter at Caesarea Philippi. When Jesus asks his followers who it is that people say he is and Peter replies “Thou art the Christ”.

We are two weeks in to Lent, and so far both our Sunday gospels have made mention of Satan. We do not often think of Satan, or hear of him in our reading, yet here he is twice!

Last week we heard how after his baptism Jesus was driven into the desert to be tempted by Satan.
This week, Peter takes issue with Jesus’ foretelling his death and resurrection, and Jesus rebukes him, saying “Get thee behind me, Satan!” – which to our ears may seem a little strong! Poor old Peter, so often hot-headed, so often getting it wrong.

On Tuesday evening a group of us watched some scenes from ‘Jesus of Nazareth’ as part of our Lent Oasis. In one of those scenes we saw Peter meet Jesus for the first time. I thought it was interesting, and insightful, how Peter was portrayed...

Peter has just been out fishing and has had a bad day’s catch (if any catch at all). He is coming back to shore shouting and cursing and in a foul mood (My Father is a fisherman so I understand something of his plight!). When Andrew, his brother, introduces him to Jesus Peter is more than a little doubtful:
“What? Another holy man! Tell me, what good will he do us?” is very much his approach.

Yet, Jesus gives Peter principle place among his apostles: “Thou art Peter (the rock), and on this rock will I build my church”
and (from the end of John)
Jesus tells Peter “Feed my lambs and tend my sheep”. He gives Peter pastoral care of his flock.

So why does Jesus seem to be so harsh with Peter? Why does he call him Satan? When it seems that Peter only wants to protect Jesus from the death he foretells for himself, one of rejection and great suffering.

Perhaps, when Peter seems willing to relieve Jesus of his sufferings Jesus is reminded of his own temptation in the desert. There, Satan tried to seduce Jesus into rejecting the mission he is given by his Father and taking the world’s glory. We hear from Jesus himself in a few weeks time, on Maundy Thursday during the Agony in the Garden, that he struggled to come to terms with the mission he was given. “Father, would that this cup of suffering could pass from me, yet not my will but yours be done.” Jesus knows what it is that he has been sent to do: to reconcile us to God by his passion, death and resurrection. And, he also knows how much suffering and pain this will mean he has to go through, before he rises in glory.

Perhaps the voice of Peter in his ear, saying something like “Lord, do not say this, you will not have to suffer, I won’t let you” is rather tempting, is rather like what Satan said to him in the wilderness.

If something is to be tempting it has to be something we feel a little attracted to. You could not tempt me with baked beans on toast for lunch, for instance, because I do not liked baked beans. However, if you offered me a slice of cake after mass that would be a different matter...

For Jesus to have been tempted by Satan in the wilderness, he must have realised the attraction in the things that Satan offered, there must have been a small part of him that might have wanted them. We know that Jesus struggled with the knowledge of his passion, perhaps the temptation to “fall in line” with what Peter was offering was indeed attractive. He hears the echo of Satan in Peter’s words and he reacts: “Get thee behind me, Satan!” Jesus refuses to be seduced by the temptation to deny his purpose. Knowledge of what the future holds can be a frightening thing, especially if that future will bring pain and sacrifice. Jesus knows that pain will come and, though he might like to do otherwise, he refuses to be distracted.

In Lent, we might well consider what it is that tempts us, what things we know the future may hold that we would rather avoid. We might hear the voice of Peter (a voice that recalls Satan’s temptation) offering us another, easier way, yet with Jesus as our example and our companion, we set our face towards the future with boldness and faith.

Jesus says that to be his followers means “to take up our cross and follow him, to lose our life for his sake, and yet in losing it, to save it”. For many of us the future holds painful things, in some cases this will be that we have to continue to bear the burden and pain of the past, or else it may be that we will have to make sacrifices of time and money, or personal emotional sacrifices. Yet Jesus says “take up these things, bring them with you to me and I will offer you rest and refreshment”. He will bring us salvation, that salvation will not just be the amplification of the good things in our life, but the deification (the bringing into God’s presence and perfection) of the things that give us pain and grief.

Christ’s cross was his burden, it was his implement of torture, it was his agony, it was his forsakenness by his Father, it was his death. Yet the cross on which he hung and died became his glory. Pain is turned to beauty, death to life, as the words of the hymn demonstrate:
“Faithful Cross! above all other
One and only noble tree!
None in foliage, none in blossom,
None in fruit thy peer may be;
Sweetest wood and sweetest iron!
Sweetest weight is hung on thee.”

We can come to the Lord with all the things we would rather leave behind, all the things we are tempted to ignore, and as we follow him we will find that out burden becomes our glory, our weaknesses become our strengths. Jesus set his face towards the Cross knowing that glory would come. We can set our face towards Holy Week, this Lent, in anticipation of Easter. And, we can set our face to our pains and burdens knowing that Christ has us in his care.
Amen.

Mission and mental health

Below is the the text of a short paper I wrote for my Selection Conference. The Ministry Division ask you to produce a written reflection on your experience of "Mission and Evangelism". Although I know I "got through", I don't yet know what the selectors thought of it (I get the report soon), but I post it here for your edification (or amusement!).

The issue of “availability” has much to offer to our notions of mission. In exploring this relationship I want to reflect on two areas of my current experience of mission: mental health chaplaincy and church buildings.

As part of my work as a pastoral assistant I am connected with the chaplaincy at a local psychiatric in-patients hospital. The bulk of this ministry is in informal, ad-hoc conversations with people on the ward. In order for such conversations to be possible one has to be content to, as others may see it, waste one’s time: to make oneself available just by being there. This will often involve walking on to one of the wards casually and merely saying hello to those around; sitting down in the lounge and chatting to the patients there. Inevitably they wonder who you are: a doctor, a visitor, perhaps a new patient? I usually explain that I am a lay-chaplain working at the local church and that I come into the unit once a week.

Over the course of several weeks and months one begins to build up a relationship with the patients and to feel that one knows them quite well. Some of the things they say can be alarming or disturbing, but an attitude of openness and acceptance is important. In many cases patients who have had little or no contact with the Church before (or even worse, a past negative experience) will begin to come to our fortnightly service in the hospital and some have begun to come to our church for Sunday and midweek worship.

I believe this work to be an important part of our role in God’s mission to the world. Christ himself said “those who are not sick have no need of a physician”, and it is my experience that those who are being challenged emotionally and psychologically are far more open to the notions of spirituality and faith. This, of course, carries with it the extra responsibility of being sensitive and careful in the work of our chaplaincy, but also means that it is a rare privilege to work there.

Often when we are engaged in forms of sector ministry it is easy for chaplains to think that they are taking God in to a Godless place, when in fact the Spirit goes there ahead of us (sometimes despite of us) and is already making God known. This has been the case for me in the hospital. We are not so much engaged in bringing in God, but in revealing those places where God is already at work: in the healing of people (which is not always equated with medical recovery); in the care of nurses and staff; in the love of family and friends; in the new relationships of support formed with other patients. It is these things that are the good news of the kingdom of God.

In ourselves we are called to embody the Church in this way: to be a place, to provide space wherein the kingdom of God may be worked out. There is something extravagant about a church building because, in a sense, it is an empty space. Unlike a home, an office or a factory, for most of the day a church will be empty and not put to any particular use. A church punctuates the busyness of time and space by being there, being open and being silent. In order for this to have any effect a church needs to be available. Visitors will come in as they pass on their way to or from work, local workers visit on their lunch break, passers-by call in out of curiosity. Crucially the church is there, it is available and it speaks of the presence of the kingdom of God in our midst, of the welcoming and inclusive love of God given to us through his Son.

So it is with us if our pastoral ministry is to spill over into mission. We need to be people who create space in ourselves for the other and The Other, by prayer, self-awareness and study of the scriptures and the faith: in short, by encounter. This space needs to be available to others by our presence in the community and in the institutions of our community, by our time given (wasted?) in such places.

Good news

You'll notice I haven't provided any details of the Selection Conference itself. These may follow later...

Sufffice it now for me to say that on Monday I heard from the Bishop's Office and he has accepted MinDiv's recommendation that I train for ordained ministry. I am now an ordinand!

I'm elated (and exhausted from all the celebrating).

Many thanks for your prayers and support. Now I need to decide which college to go to (but I already have a few ideas on that one...)

More to follow soon...

Pre-Conference

The days between my retreat and Selection Conference passed peacefully, with just enough distractions to keep nerves at bay, but not so many that I got stressed out and tired. We had Exposition and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament at church on Saturday (now to become a regular thing) and Father had asked me to lead the devotions. I read aloud the text of a hymn that I know well because I used often to sing it as an anthem in a choir I was in when younger. It has been one of the private devotions I use after receiving communion for a few years now.

Be still, my soul, for God is near;
the great High Priest is with thee now;
the Lord of Life himself is here,
before whose face the angels bow.

To make thy heart his lowly thron
thy Saviour God in love draws nigh;
he gives himself unto his own,
for whom he once came down to die.

I come, O Lord! -for thou dost call-
to blend my pleading prayer with thine;
to thee I give myself - my all,
and feed on thee and make thee mine.

(O Sacred Food! O Cleansing Stream!
Fill all my soul with love Divine;
O Thou, who didst my life redeem,
come to my heart and make me thine!)

Tears sprang up in my eyes and my voice cracked in the penultimate verse. I managed to remain composed but it was profoundly moving to speaking aloud a prayer I have used privately for years, especially with the anticipation of the days ahead. "I come, O Lord! To thee I give myself, my all!"

Masses and prayers went up for me and the cards and well-wishes came flooding in. I felt very loved and held in prayer and went to Selection Conference knowing that I would not be alone or forgotten.

Retreat

Well, I went on retreat, which was wonderful. I took myself off to Elmore Abbey (near Newbury, Berkshire) for two days. I took "The Christian Priest Today" by Michael Ramsey which was one of the first vocational books I read and had not found very useful the first time through, but this time round it was wonderful and really helped me to prepare for the Selection Conference.

Elmore Abbey itself is in a large country house (owing to its proximity to the village church, I guess it was once the Vicarage/Rectory), much altered and extended to suit the needs of a monastic house, situated in beautiful (but acessible) countryside. One of the extensions is the fabulous Oratory (as they call it, but I would have thought "Abbey Church"?). This is built entirely of wood to a Saxon design, with splendid stained glass and many other lovely, but simple, features. For two days I absorbed myself in the Church's offering of prayer there (except for the 5.30am Office of Readings!) which really provided the backbone of my retreat.

The community are friendly and welcoming but woefully small. They are currently without an Abbot but are being ruled by their new (and relatively young) Prior. Fortunately, they are able to enjoy and draw on a large oblate community for support.

I returned from retreat feeling calm and peaceful, prepared for and focussed on the forthcoming Selection Conference. It was the best preparation I could have hoped for.