Tuesday 28 April 2020

Walking the beach with Jesus

John 21:15-17
Jesus and Peter
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.
Come for a walk he said
Come for a walk
where I will show you
how much I love you
Come for a walk he said
Come for a walk 
where I will show you
you are forgiven
Come for a walk he said
Come for a walk
where I will show you
all that I ask of you
It’s simple really
It doesn’t involve strategies
or fundraising
or buildings management
or future proofing 
It involves loving me
and feeding my sheep
that’s it.
Come for a walk he said,
Come for a walk 
with me.

Wednesday 22 April 2020

Mary, mother of God



John 19:25-27
Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.

In the agony of death
you looked upon
the woman who gave you life
the woman who offered up her womb
for Gods seed to be planted
An offering that brought her 
shame
and joy
searing pain
and loss
pride
and puzzlement
consuming love
and crippling grief
You looked upon her
and asked her
for more -
to mother
your beloved disciple.
You placed him
into her care
and her
into his.
You knew
in the days to come
she would long for
a son to hold
and to cherish
one who would
look out for her
in her 
landscape of loss.
And there is a beauty
in a mother given
and a son chosen
in a relationship forged
not through blood
but gouged out
in love
May we know the joy
of mothering
and being mothered
in every stage of life.
Mary, our mother
lend us your love.

Saturday 18 April 2020

The Emmaus Road of Covid 19

Luke 24:13-16
The Walk to Emmaus
Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.

Two family members
from the same household 
walked a necessary journey
to spend lockdown together
As they walked a stranger drew near,
too near, and walked beside them
They eyed him with suspicion
and asked him to stay 2 metres apart.
As he took up a socially distant position
he asked them what was troubling them?
Why the face mask and gloves?
Incredulously, they told him about the virus
about the carnage it was wreaking
and the isolation measures being imposed
How could he not have heard?
He told them about the homeless woman
he’d just met who, for the first time,
was being given a place to shelter
who didn’t know the rules
of social engagement or of distancing
and who could not settle into a new reality
for fear of what awaited her at the other end
when, inevitably she’d be back on the street.
He told them of the young nurse
who, every day, dropped off his children at school
while most of their friends were home
so that he could go and hold the hands
and adjust the masks
of those who were fighting for life
and of his terror that he would
bring the virus home.
He told them of the young man
whose wife had just given birth to their first child
who could not bring the child to be held
by his parents or octogenarian grandparents
who was learning the skills of parenting
through WhatsApp and FaceTime.
He told them of young people
unable to undertake the  rites of passage
that mark their movement through 
all the phases and seasons of life
He told them of folk of all ages
at risk, isolating alone
relying on strangers and neighbours for support
He told them of the pain of families
whose loved ones had died
without family by their side
unable to perform the rituals
of grief and mourning.
He told them story after story
not to diminish their own fear and loss
but to enable them
in the midst of it all
to sense community
to honour sacrifice
to catch a glimmer of hope
and to know
that all that they were being asked to endure
could not last forever
That all that they learned
and the beauty that they witnessed
in the present and in the emerging
would not be lost
when the virus was conquered
And the world would be changed forever
as care
and compassion 
and love
and connection
became gifts 
that were celebrated beyond price
And, when he disappeared from their sight
they found that he had left
on the doorstep
for them
bread and wine
And the law
and the prophets
and the theologians
and the liturgists
no longer mattered
Whether virtual or real
or physical or spiritual
Christ was present in the sacrament they shared
and in the hope and promise
they clung to
for the future.

It is the Lord!

John 21:4-7
Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!”

I love the weeks after Easter, when we normally read about Jesus’ resurrection appearances. Each of the different encounters of the Risen Christ with the disciples seems to me to be restorative. They are encounters filled with love, with forgiveness, with passion, giving back to the disciples all that they lost in the trauma of the events surrounding Jesus’ betrayal, arrest and crucifixion.
This year, somehow, I can’t quite get to that restorative place of the post resurrection Christ. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure that I’ve even reached Holy Saturday, never mind the empty tomb.
Sure, I proclaimed: “He is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia” - last weekend. And, at least for a moment, there was joy. But that joy was fleeting as the light was dimmed once more by the trauma of a world in lockdown. And I wonder if this Easter is more authentic than any other I have experienced.
Because the love, the light, the forgiveness and the restoration are the things that I crave more than ever before. It’s not that hope and joy are absent but that they look so different this year, quieter, subdued, perhaps more real and more precious, grounded in small things that have taken on a new significance. It’s the uncertainty and unpredictability that surrounded the disciples that are the emotions that we inhabit today. Indeed, it seems that discombobulation has always been the lot of God’s people - in wilderness, in exile, in inhabiting and affecting the cultures that surrounded them, in waiting for the revealing of God and of learning anew how to be God’s people in a strange land time after time. Always called to dwell and grow in liminal spaces, to make sense of God’s presence, to discern God’s faithfulness and leading. Like all liminal dwelling, it’s too early to sketch what comes next, though many will try. This isn’t a time for planning our next moves, of who we might be when we emerge, it’s a time for being, in these moments. Recognising what we value, caring for the most vulnerable, garnering strength and understanding, sharing the confusion that accompanies our faith, these are the tasks of these days. And, if we struggle to see resurrection amidst all the death, if we’re left peering into the tomb trying to make sense of it all, not yet ready to greet the risen Christ, far less have breakfast with him, we are not failing. Christ himself waits with us, hunkered down, exhausted and broken too. Christ sits amid the debris of burned down candles that struggle to point to the light. Christ enters our lived reality, shouldering our sadness, strengthening our compassion, infusing our tears with the balm of healing, making no demands. And, when we persist in faith, resurrection will come, tiptoeing in, silently making its presence felt, a flash here, a glimpse there, until eventually the flame burns steady again and we are ready for breakfast, ready to hear how Christ will commission us to live into a changed world with the wisdom of all that we have learned on our way from the cross to the empty tomb. Until then, Christ waits with us.

This Easter, Lord Jesus
We encounter you
not in a garden early in the morning
but at all hours of the day and night
in every hospital
and care home
in makeshift wards
and mortuaries
in the guise of 
nurses and doctors
of cleaners and porters
of technicians and drivers
of chaplains and administrators
This Easter, Lord Jesus,
We glimpse your wounds on display
not in a locked room with a select few
but in Intensive Care Units
where people struggle for breath
where machines aid breathing
where angels bring comfort
with or without
the equipment
and protection
that they need.
This Easter Lord Jesus
We see you breathe your peace 
not behind closed doors 
but on all those who need comforted
Loved ones who cannot be together
Those who have no opportunity
to say goodbye
denied the ritual 
of last offices of love
On carers who are overwhelmed
by the demands of their role
yet keep on going.
This Easter Lord Jesus
you walk with us
not on the road to Emmaus
but through every emotion
and question
and cry of despair
You listen without dismissal
carefully holding
all that we share.
This Easter, Lord Jesus
we recognise you 
not in the breaking of bread
but at every table 
where families gather
forced together
or kept apart
and in every means we have
of maintaining relationships
and of staying connected
You continue to surprise us 
Risen Lord
Turning up when we least expect you
in places we would never imagine 
May the light of resurrection 
Pierce the darkness
in us 
and in our world today.



Sunday 12 April 2020

Breathe

John 20:19-22

Jesus Appears to the Disciples
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.

Locked inside
in fear
Huddled together
not sure of what to do next
Some champing at the bit
just waiting for things
to get back to normal
back to whatever was left
of their livelihoods
Some never wanting to show face again
so disillusioned were they
crushed hopes
crushed dreams
resigned to life in lockdown
When the Risen Christ appeared
Peace was probably
the last thing they wanted
Peace?
What were they supposed 
to do with peace?
They wanted an explanation
Advice
Motivation
Direction
Not peace
Particularly not breathed peace
Breath carries the stench of death
the danger of contagion
Peace
Breathed in
was what they got
and what they needed
And it was
by breathing in peace
that they were able
to face the world
in Resurrection light.

Do not be afraid

Matthew 28:1-8
The Resurrection of Jesus
After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.

Do not be afraid!
Really?
In the midst of pandemic
when all we know is upended
when all we love is at risk
How can we not be afraid?
You, O Lord,
whose every landmark moment
of life
and death
was accompanied by these words
Do not be afraid 
Whispered by the angel 
who visited Mary the mother of God
to announce your coming
Do not be afraid
Sung by a heavenly choir
to shepherds 
Do not be afraid
shouted over the wind and waves
to disciples on a stormy sea
Do not be afraid
spoken to Peter , James and John
on a mountaintop
Do not be afraid
Pronounced to women at the tomb
To disciples in a locked room
To fishermen on the beach
To those who witnessed the Ascension
Do not be afraid
You proclaim these words
Risen Christ
as a portent
to your merging heaven with earth
May we always see in these words
your presence
giving strength
your power
making a difference
your love
changing us
until we see the whole world
in the light of a loving creator
who knows us
who loves us
and who holds us fast
in risen power.
Do not be afraid


Saturday 11 April 2020

Waiting

Matthew 27:57-61
The Burial of Jesus
When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who was also a disciple of Jesus. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus; then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock. He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb.

So that’s it
After all the kerfuffle
all the hype
that’s what it came down to
A broken body
buried in a stone cold tomb 
And two women
sitting waiting
No more to be said
No more to be done
Sabbath
And yet...
And yet...
there is beauty
and sacrament
in the waiting
Waiting 
with the sorrow
Waiting
with the soul crushing pain
Waiting
with the ache in the chest
that was forged 
in love
shattered, messy love
that knows no logic
that cannot be bound
The kind of love
that we wouldn’t be without
though it causes such pain
Two women
Mary Magdalene
and
the other Mary
kept their vigil.
In the searing hurt
of loss and love
they waited.
As must we.


Friday 10 April 2020

It is finished



John 19:28-30

After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfil the scripture), “I am thirsty.” A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, “It is finished.” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

It is finished
For too many across the world
this cry echoes
It is finished
It echoes 
as a virus that respects none
robs them of the breath of life
It echoes 
in refugee camps
and on cruise ships
in urban slums
and in parliaments
in deserted cities
and in rural villages
in homes
in hospitals
in care facilities
It is finished
And the brutal execution
of a political prisoner
suddenly doesn’t seem so fanciful 
so at odds with reality
when the whole world is united
in resisting a common enemy
It is finished
is not the end
for all who have died
and for all who mourn
Our collective grief
will continue to shape
our lives
and the life of the world
for all time
A cross shaped grief
into which is gathered
our pain
our vulnerability
our helplessness
our loss
our determination
our community
our humanity 
Gathered up in that cry
It is finished 
as we wrestle
with what it means
to be human beings
connected across the globe
dependant on each
playing their part
Dependant on our fragile ecology
Dependant
on being human
Together
Dependant on love
that excludes none
and encompasses all.
It is finished
And it is only just beginning.

Love between

John 19:16-18
Then he handed him over to them to be crucified.
So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them.


Between them
Crucified... between them
Creating a bridge
over which flowed love
Love that was pierced
Love that bled
Love that died
for a time
This Good Friday
that is where I want to be
hunkered down
in that love
that streams between
I know the rest of the story
I know that resurrection happens
But this Good Friday
my eyes are drawn
more than ever
to the cross
where love
was crucified.
And in a world
where many are dying
alone and between
that love,
for me,
is the only possibility
of hope.

Thursday 9 April 2020

Do as I have done...

John 13:12-15
After Jesus had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.
The foot washing we mimic
in our pimped up sanctuaries
on Maundy Thursday
with our tepid water
and pristine white fluffy towels
will never get close
to the ritual played out
by Jesus
who handled the feet
of grown men
who had just traversed
the gutters and cesspools
of Jerusalem
at festival time.
Our notions of servanthood
can barely compute
the magnitude 
of the teacher
stooping,
kneeling
bathing
caressing
the soles
of his disciples.
And all without PPE.
But today 
all over the world
we are witnessing
such magnitude
of selfless giving
in our frontline workers
who are risking all
to care for
the ill
and the dying.
Today, at every turn,
we are being confronted
with tangible reminders
of what servanthood looks like
and of the cost of love.
So maybe it’s a good thing 
that we won’t be able to gather 
and reenact a ritual
Instead,
as we bear witness to
an extravaganza 
of costly love
May we not look away
but, rather, observe 
and stand in awe
of the servants 
who are teaching us today
about stepping up
and stepping out
to love 
and to serve.
And may we never forget
our debt of gratitude
for their acts of servant love.


Wednesday 8 April 2020

Remembering her

Matthew 26:6-13
The Anointing at Bethany
Now while Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment, and she poured it on his head as he sat at the table. But when the disciples saw it, they were angry and said, “Why this waste? For this ointment could have been sold for a large sum, and the money given to the poor.” But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you trouble the woman? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me. By pouring this ointment on my body she has prepared me for burial. Truly I tell you, wherever this good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

They shamed her
They called her out
A woman who gave her all
They pronounced judgment
like we do today
with those whose stories
we do not know
or care to learn
They ignored her passion
her costly sacrifice
preferring instead
to quibble about incidentals
about the old ways
of propping up society.
They preferred to bring the focus
to their discomfort
and their petty political point scoring
rather than the woman’s
beautiful act of compassion
And Jesus called them back
as we are recalled today
to notice what matters
The love
The kindness
The primal urge
to give and to serve
And we tune out the gum bumpers
and zoom in on
the woman
Mary of Bethany
of whom Jesus said:
wherever this good news is proclaimed 
in the whole world, 
what she has done will be told 
in remembrance of her.”


Tuesday 7 April 2020

For this reason

John 12:27-32
Jesus Speaks about His Death
“Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Lord, you knew strength of purpose
A purpose from which
you refused to waver
even when confronted
with all manner of temptation
and in the face of death itself.
You knew the things
that were yours to do.
May we, in these days of confusion
know your purpose
your will for our lives.
May we discern
what is ours to do
and glorify you
by getting on with the tasks
that you reveal
are ours
for this day
and this hour.
And, amidst all the competing voices
that call us in so many directions
may we hear clearly
and unequivocally
the voice from heaven
that assures us 
that you have got this
- that you are God
and we are not
and your call to us today
is to stand firm
to be still and listen
and to follow
wherever you lead
bringing glory
to your Name.
For loves sake.

Monday 6 April 2020

A clearance

Matthew 21:12-16
Jesus Cleanses the Temple
Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves.
He said to them, “It is written,
‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’;
but you are making it a den of robbers.”
The blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he cured them. But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the amazing things that he did, and heard the children crying out in the temple, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they became angry
and said to him, “Do you hear what these are saying?” Jesus said to them, “Yes; have you never read,
‘Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies
you have prepared praise for yourself’?”

What of us today
who have been driven out 
of our sanctuaries?
What has become, for us,
in these days
our place of prayer?
Where are we hearing
voices raised to God
in praise
in anguish
in pleading?
How are we responding 
to those who cry out
to God?
Where are we practising
the things that we preach
in our temples?
How are we making space
to listen for wisdom
in the voices of children?
And where are we seeing
the clearing out
of all that hinders
our turning to God
to lead us through 
this time of trial?
Sifting through the carnage
for something to hold on to
what will we find?
What, in the end,
will lead us into life?

Sunday 5 April 2020

Another kind of hand washing

Matthew 27:24-26
Pilate Hands Jesus over to Be Crucified
So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” Then the people as a whole answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” So he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.

How often do I convince myself
that I’ve taken the only available option?
How often do I justify my actions
by defining it as the least of evils?
How often is the self righteousness
I tell myself has been hard won
actually achieved
at considerable cost to another?
It is extremely possible
perhaps even probable
that there is a bit of Pilate
in all of us.
In every decision postponed
In every courageous conversation avoided
In every truth diluted
or silenced.
Hand washing
though vital for physical health
in these times
may not be so helpful 
for peace of mind.
I am not an innocent bystander
but a culpable participant
more often than I care to be.
And it will take more than hand washing
to change that.

Saturday 4 April 2020

Staying faithful


Mark 14:32-36
Jesus Prays in Gethsemane
They went to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.”

Being faithful
is exhausting
Weighing up the cost 
of commitment
and change
when loss seems 
more prevalent than gain
Balancing the books
of uncertainty and agitation
with tentative peace
Not much of a relief
but  some kind of resolution
around which
life can begin to flow 
Like a sandbank in a river
Still there
but navigable
But the energy it takes
just to get that far
never mind what’s next
necessitates withdrawal
lying low
taking time
to reclaim 
all that has been eroded
in the struggle 
to be faithful
and to remain available
to possibility.
Healing
may creep in slowly
not to anaesthetise the pain
but to massage and soothe
so that tenderness
openness
and sensitivity
remain the foundation
of future growth
and continued faithfulness.

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