An address delivered in All Souls’ Sunday 26th June 2016 by Keith Senior, organist and PCC secretary.
It’s the holiday season. The associate minister is away, the lay readers are engaged elsewhere and so, for a few minutes I am afraid you are stuck with me. I can tell you now that I have no licence or permission to preach in any Church of England by any bishop or other ecclesiastical authority, but I am sure that nobody would object if, for just a few minutes, I shared with my family and friends at All Souls‘ a few thoughts on subjects which might mean something to us.
Many years ago a young lad worked in his father’s workshop. His father was a cobbler (ask the children what a cobbler is - if they don’t know, tell them). One day he suddenly jumped up on the counter and told the people who were waiting for their shoes to be repaired about the love of Jesus. Within a couple of weeks, hundreds of people were crowding round the little shop, not to get their shoes repaired, but to hear this young man talk about the love of Jesus Christ. And the Church laughed at him and made fun of him and nicknamed him ‘the Consecrated Cobbler”. Well, I can’t be the consecrated cobbler this morning, because I can’t mend shoes, but for a few minutes I can be the consecrated organist and share a few of my thoughts with you.
Some of you might know, most of you won’t know, that I am a great admirer and devotee of Punch and Judy - (here, bring Mr.Punch from under your surplice and ask the children who it is). Yes, that’s right, Mr.Punch. Now Mr.Punch has been in this country for hundreds of years. He probably came across with the Italian puppet men when King Charles II came to the throne in the 17th century and immediately he was very popular and puppet theaters sprang up all over the country and were packed with people wanting to watch Mr.Punch in his puppet plays. Now these plays were not for children. At best they were vulgar and bawdy, at worst they were obscene and their language was atrocious! And I have to tell you that Mr.Punch was not a good man - (Mr.Punch looks at me in astonishment). He was vulgar and loud; he was a coward and a gossip and a bragger - (Mr.Punch lays his head on my shoulder and hides his face). He was a thief and a murderer; he beat and murdered his wife and threw the baby out of the window, but people thought he was wonderful and he made them laugh and he became a great hero and a national celebrity - (Mr.Punch sits up now and claps his hands).
Now there was a man called Martin Powell who opened his puppet theatre in Covent Garden in London in the 1700’s and his puppet plays were very popular and he was doing very well. Then, a letter appeared in the London newspapers supposedly written by the sacristan of Saint Paul’s Church which was just near the theatre. The sacristan complained that when he rung the church bell for a service, the people roundabout thought that it was the signal that the puppet play was starting and they crowded into the theatre and the church was empty. We know now that this letter was a fake, a hoax, perhaps written by Powell himself as a bit of publicity. But whether a fake or not, it told the truth; the theatre was full, the church was empty! - (Mr.Punch nods his head and claps).
My son, like a lot of young men, likes to go out occasionally with his friends. Sometimes they go to the local pub, sometimes they come into Leeds and visit the places of entertainment there. Often I ask him if it had been busy and invariably he tells me that yes, the places were packed; you could hardly get to the bar for a drink for the crowds packing in. And it used to set me thinking. Why don’t they pack to the doors All Souls’ Church on a Sunday morning or at services on any other day? Well, the reasons are many and far too many and complex for us to think about this morning, but there is one thing me might like to think about regarding this; something which is pertinent to us as the family of All Souls’.
When Archbishop Thomas Cranmer put together the great Book of Common Prayer in 1549 he included in it prayers known as collects, special prayers for every Sunday in the year and for all the festivals and saint’s days. Some of these he composed himself, some he took from the old service books of the English Church. They are wonderful prayers and we have had one this morning from the new service book and like the prayer we had this morning, many of Cranmer’s prayers contain a certain word which has some bearing about what we are thinking about. One of the prayers begins:
“God, who at this time did teach the hearts of Thy faithful people”.
Anther one begins:
“Stir up we beseech thee O Lord the wills of Thy faithful people”.
It is this word ‘faithful’ I want us to consider in the light of what I am trying to say. If Cranmer had missed the word ‘faithful’ out of the prayer, it would still have made sense - “teach the hearts of Thy people’. “Stir up the will of Thy people”. All men are the people of God whether they are black, white, yellow, green, bad, good or indifferent and whether they like it or not. Jesus said “I am the Light that lightens every man who comes into the world”. But the old collect qualifies the word ‘people’ and makes it clear that the prayer is about the faithful people of God.
Many years ago if you didn’t go to church on a Sunday morning in this country you got fined. When Queen Elizabeth I came to the throne it was 20p per Sunday. As she got older she grew neurotic and the fine went up to £20 per month. Now there were not many people in 17th century Britain who could afford £20 a month and if you did not pay off you went to - (point at the children and ask them - most of them put their hands up and answered ‘prison’). Yes, you went to jail for not going to church. Now the queen was not so much interested in the spiritual welfare of her people as she was in her security and the security of her reign. She was terrified of the Roman Catholics and the rising nonconformists who were challenging the Church of England and it was the Church of England who had crowned her and was behind her throne and it was certainly politic if the people of this country packed into the churches as a sign of obedience. So you see, it was not so much a desire that people would be the faithful people of God by being in church, but more a matter of politics and power and the security of the throne.
Let’s move on a little and come up to the 19th century. St.Martin’s Church in Scarborough had a well known tradition or custom called the ‘Promenade’. If you were one of the fashionable set of Scarborough you belonged to St.Martin’s and after the service on a Sunday morning you walked up and down the Esplanade in all you finery to see and to be seen. It was a great fashion to belong to Saint Martin’s Church and you strutted up and down before Sunday lunch to let people see you and know it.
A bit further up to date. When I was a lad at home, an old lady who lived near to us was a great stalwart of Saint Mark’s Church on the edge of the town. If anyone mentioned Saint Mark’s then, everyone thought of this old lady. Now this lady had not set foot inside that church for years, but she never missed the Tuesday afternoon whistdrive!
Nearly up to date. When I was a young man I sang in a very popular parish church. Sunday morning, the nave, where you are sitting now, would be crowded, even the aisles would be full of people. At night, at evensong, we would draw in over a hundred people. It was the main church of the town and my parents had many friends among its congregation. One particular friend of my father was a heating engineer and he had a business in the town. One year he was elected churchwarden and he was absolutely over the moon, delighted that he had been voted as a churchwarden for that year. I can distinctly remember his wife talking to my mother one afternoon and she said to my Mum ‘you see, we don’t care for the religious bit, but it brings Harry a lot of work into his business!”
Well, times have changed. People don’t get fined anymore or sent to jail if they won’t go to church. People don’t go to be fashionable, because believe me, it’s not fashionable these days to go to church. They don’t go to enjoy the social side of things - there’s plenty provision for a social life elsewhere these days. And they certainly don’t go to prosper their business enterprises anymore. So what’s left? Well, I’m left! You are left! And we come back to Cranmer’s old collects, the faithful people of God. We come because we want to come; we want to be the faithful people of God despite all the odds. And how do we become the faithful people of God? Well, for a start by belonging to this Christian family of All Souls’ and letting what we experience here sink into us so that we can carry it out with us and let it work in our lives when we go out into the world. The way it influences the way in which we treat people, regard our fellow human beings, conduct our lives and by so doing show that we are the faithful people of God. And why am I faithful? Why are you faithful? Why is Joe Bloggs across in bed in Blenheim Square, or Mrs.Dick hanging her washing out in Leicester Place not faithful? Well I don’t know and neither does anybody else. The ‘experts’ will fire at us sociology, anthropology, upbringing and all the rest and anyone who puts forward hypotheses and claims them as truth, invariably tells lies. There may be a clue in something Jesus once said to his pals - “you thought that you chose me; well you’re wrong because I chose you”. Whatever the reason, it’s a fact and a fact proven by all of us this morning, gathered in this church.
And so it’s nice isn’t it? We are the faithful people of God. It’s tough for Joe Bloggs who, just now is snoring away still in bed in Blenheim Square, or Mrs.Dicks who is just hanging out the washing down Leicester Place, they don’t know what they’re missing! So do we just sit back and enjoy it? Well no, because the faithful people of God have a task to perform and a difficult task at that.
In Saint Paul’s Cathedral is a painting by an artist called William Holman Hunt. It is called ‘ The Light of the World’. It shows Jesus knocking on a door with a lantern in His hand. It is not a particularly great painting, but it is what is illustrated that matters. The inscription below the painting is from the words of Jesus in the Book of revelation - “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If any man hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and be his guest; stay with him and he with Me”. In the background of the painting is an orchard, gnarled trees and it is getting dark, obviously the night is drawing on. The lantern Jesus holds is going out and the door he knocks at is a thick solid thing, grown up with weeds and creepers; it hasn’t been opened for years. There isn’t even a handle on the outside; there’s no chance it will open.The door is not going to open, the lantern is going to go out and the darkness is going to fall. The painting is hopeless, the odds of someone within hearing His voice and opening the door are stacked mightily against Him. And yet, He continues to knock, the Light that lightens every man who comes into the world; the Man who has come that all men might have life and have it in all its fullness and be the faithful people of God. And this is the task for the faithful people of God, to knock on that door for the love of Him who holds the dying lantern. If only one person opens the door after a lifetime of knocking, then, yes, it’s been worthwhile and how do we knock on that fast closed door? By showing love; by showing welcome and acceptance to all who come through the doors of this glorious church, by sharing with whoever comes in, the Love of Him who holds the dying lantern and taking out with us, the joy and the experience of the fullness of life in the worship of God we find in our fellowship and worship in this place.
After the resurrection of Jesus, the people who remained faithful to Him then, were known as ‘witnesses’. They were the people who witnessed that He was risen from the dead and was a presence in their lives and that is just what we are, not a few months after the event of the resurrection, but two thousand years later on a Sunday morning in June in Leeds. Every time you step through the doors of this church you are being a witness to those who see you, of your membership and belonging to the family of All Souls’. A faithful person of God is always a witness.
(Turning to Mr.Punch) And so Mr.Punch, were you glad when your theatre in Covent Garden was packed to the doors with people wanting to watch your plays? (Mr.Punch nods his head and claps). And were you glad that Saint Paul’s Church next door was empty because the people would rather watch you being silly? (Mr.Punch lowers his head and covers his face in shame). No, and I should think not!
(Point at the congregation while Mr.Punch nods his head and claps). You are the faithful people of God in the 21st century in Leeds; the people of All Souls’. Amen.
It’s the holiday season. The associate minister is away, the lay readers are engaged elsewhere and so, for a few minutes I am afraid you are stuck with me. I can tell you now that I have no licence or permission to preach in any Church of England by any bishop or other ecclesiastical authority, but I am sure that nobody would object if, for just a few minutes, I shared with my family and friends at All Souls‘ a few thoughts on subjects which might mean something to us.
Many years ago a young lad worked in his father’s workshop. His father was a cobbler (ask the children what a cobbler is - if they don’t know, tell them). One day he suddenly jumped up on the counter and told the people who were waiting for their shoes to be repaired about the love of Jesus. Within a couple of weeks, hundreds of people were crowding round the little shop, not to get their shoes repaired, but to hear this young man talk about the love of Jesus Christ. And the Church laughed at him and made fun of him and nicknamed him ‘the Consecrated Cobbler”. Well, I can’t be the consecrated cobbler this morning, because I can’t mend shoes, but for a few minutes I can be the consecrated organist and share a few of my thoughts with you.
Some of you might know, most of you won’t know, that I am a great admirer and devotee of Punch and Judy - (here, bring Mr.Punch from under your surplice and ask the children who it is). Yes, that’s right, Mr.Punch. Now Mr.Punch has been in this country for hundreds of years. He probably came across with the Italian puppet men when King Charles II came to the throne in the 17th century and immediately he was very popular and puppet theaters sprang up all over the country and were packed with people wanting to watch Mr.Punch in his puppet plays. Now these plays were not for children. At best they were vulgar and bawdy, at worst they were obscene and their language was atrocious! And I have to tell you that Mr.Punch was not a good man - (Mr.Punch looks at me in astonishment). He was vulgar and loud; he was a coward and a gossip and a bragger - (Mr.Punch lays his head on my shoulder and hides his face). He was a thief and a murderer; he beat and murdered his wife and threw the baby out of the window, but people thought he was wonderful and he made them laugh and he became a great hero and a national celebrity - (Mr.Punch sits up now and claps his hands).
Now there was a man called Martin Powell who opened his puppet theatre in Covent Garden in London in the 1700’s and his puppet plays were very popular and he was doing very well. Then, a letter appeared in the London newspapers supposedly written by the sacristan of Saint Paul’s Church which was just near the theatre. The sacristan complained that when he rung the church bell for a service, the people roundabout thought that it was the signal that the puppet play was starting and they crowded into the theatre and the church was empty. We know now that this letter was a fake, a hoax, perhaps written by Powell himself as a bit of publicity. But whether a fake or not, it told the truth; the theatre was full, the church was empty! - (Mr.Punch nods his head and claps).
My son, like a lot of young men, likes to go out occasionally with his friends. Sometimes they go to the local pub, sometimes they come into Leeds and visit the places of entertainment there. Often I ask him if it had been busy and invariably he tells me that yes, the places were packed; you could hardly get to the bar for a drink for the crowds packing in. And it used to set me thinking. Why don’t they pack to the doors All Souls’ Church on a Sunday morning or at services on any other day? Well, the reasons are many and far too many and complex for us to think about this morning, but there is one thing me might like to think about regarding this; something which is pertinent to us as the family of All Souls’.
When Archbishop Thomas Cranmer put together the great Book of Common Prayer in 1549 he included in it prayers known as collects, special prayers for every Sunday in the year and for all the festivals and saint’s days. Some of these he composed himself, some he took from the old service books of the English Church. They are wonderful prayers and we have had one this morning from the new service book and like the prayer we had this morning, many of Cranmer’s prayers contain a certain word which has some bearing about what we are thinking about. One of the prayers begins:
“God, who at this time did teach the hearts of Thy faithful people”.
Anther one begins:
“Stir up we beseech thee O Lord the wills of Thy faithful people”.
It is this word ‘faithful’ I want us to consider in the light of what I am trying to say. If Cranmer had missed the word ‘faithful’ out of the prayer, it would still have made sense - “teach the hearts of Thy people’. “Stir up the will of Thy people”. All men are the people of God whether they are black, white, yellow, green, bad, good or indifferent and whether they like it or not. Jesus said “I am the Light that lightens every man who comes into the world”. But the old collect qualifies the word ‘people’ and makes it clear that the prayer is about the faithful people of God.
Many years ago if you didn’t go to church on a Sunday morning in this country you got fined. When Queen Elizabeth I came to the throne it was 20p per Sunday. As she got older she grew neurotic and the fine went up to £20 per month. Now there were not many people in 17th century Britain who could afford £20 a month and if you did not pay off you went to - (point at the children and ask them - most of them put their hands up and answered ‘prison’). Yes, you went to jail for not going to church. Now the queen was not so much interested in the spiritual welfare of her people as she was in her security and the security of her reign. She was terrified of the Roman Catholics and the rising nonconformists who were challenging the Church of England and it was the Church of England who had crowned her and was behind her throne and it was certainly politic if the people of this country packed into the churches as a sign of obedience. So you see, it was not so much a desire that people would be the faithful people of God by being in church, but more a matter of politics and power and the security of the throne.
Let’s move on a little and come up to the 19th century. St.Martin’s Church in Scarborough had a well known tradition or custom called the ‘Promenade’. If you were one of the fashionable set of Scarborough you belonged to St.Martin’s and after the service on a Sunday morning you walked up and down the Esplanade in all you finery to see and to be seen. It was a great fashion to belong to Saint Martin’s Church and you strutted up and down before Sunday lunch to let people see you and know it.
A bit further up to date. When I was a lad at home, an old lady who lived near to us was a great stalwart of Saint Mark’s Church on the edge of the town. If anyone mentioned Saint Mark’s then, everyone thought of this old lady. Now this lady had not set foot inside that church for years, but she never missed the Tuesday afternoon whistdrive!
Nearly up to date. When I was a young man I sang in a very popular parish church. Sunday morning, the nave, where you are sitting now, would be crowded, even the aisles would be full of people. At night, at evensong, we would draw in over a hundred people. It was the main church of the town and my parents had many friends among its congregation. One particular friend of my father was a heating engineer and he had a business in the town. One year he was elected churchwarden and he was absolutely over the moon, delighted that he had been voted as a churchwarden for that year. I can distinctly remember his wife talking to my mother one afternoon and she said to my Mum ‘you see, we don’t care for the religious bit, but it brings Harry a lot of work into his business!”
Well, times have changed. People don’t get fined anymore or sent to jail if they won’t go to church. People don’t go to be fashionable, because believe me, it’s not fashionable these days to go to church. They don’t go to enjoy the social side of things - there’s plenty provision for a social life elsewhere these days. And they certainly don’t go to prosper their business enterprises anymore. So what’s left? Well, I’m left! You are left! And we come back to Cranmer’s old collects, the faithful people of God. We come because we want to come; we want to be the faithful people of God despite all the odds. And how do we become the faithful people of God? Well, for a start by belonging to this Christian family of All Souls’ and letting what we experience here sink into us so that we can carry it out with us and let it work in our lives when we go out into the world. The way it influences the way in which we treat people, regard our fellow human beings, conduct our lives and by so doing show that we are the faithful people of God. And why am I faithful? Why are you faithful? Why is Joe Bloggs across in bed in Blenheim Square, or Mrs.Dick hanging her washing out in Leicester Place not faithful? Well I don’t know and neither does anybody else. The ‘experts’ will fire at us sociology, anthropology, upbringing and all the rest and anyone who puts forward hypotheses and claims them as truth, invariably tells lies. There may be a clue in something Jesus once said to his pals - “you thought that you chose me; well you’re wrong because I chose you”. Whatever the reason, it’s a fact and a fact proven by all of us this morning, gathered in this church.
And so it’s nice isn’t it? We are the faithful people of God. It’s tough for Joe Bloggs who, just now is snoring away still in bed in Blenheim Square, or Mrs.Dicks who is just hanging out the washing down Leicester Place, they don’t know what they’re missing! So do we just sit back and enjoy it? Well no, because the faithful people of God have a task to perform and a difficult task at that.
In Saint Paul’s Cathedral is a painting by an artist called William Holman Hunt. It is called ‘ The Light of the World’. It shows Jesus knocking on a door with a lantern in His hand. It is not a particularly great painting, but it is what is illustrated that matters. The inscription below the painting is from the words of Jesus in the Book of revelation - “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If any man hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and be his guest; stay with him and he with Me”. In the background of the painting is an orchard, gnarled trees and it is getting dark, obviously the night is drawing on. The lantern Jesus holds is going out and the door he knocks at is a thick solid thing, grown up with weeds and creepers; it hasn’t been opened for years. There isn’t even a handle on the outside; there’s no chance it will open.The door is not going to open, the lantern is going to go out and the darkness is going to fall. The painting is hopeless, the odds of someone within hearing His voice and opening the door are stacked mightily against Him. And yet, He continues to knock, the Light that lightens every man who comes into the world; the Man who has come that all men might have life and have it in all its fullness and be the faithful people of God. And this is the task for the faithful people of God, to knock on that door for the love of Him who holds the dying lantern. If only one person opens the door after a lifetime of knocking, then, yes, it’s been worthwhile and how do we knock on that fast closed door? By showing love; by showing welcome and acceptance to all who come through the doors of this glorious church, by sharing with whoever comes in, the Love of Him who holds the dying lantern and taking out with us, the joy and the experience of the fullness of life in the worship of God we find in our fellowship and worship in this place.
After the resurrection of Jesus, the people who remained faithful to Him then, were known as ‘witnesses’. They were the people who witnessed that He was risen from the dead and was a presence in their lives and that is just what we are, not a few months after the event of the resurrection, but two thousand years later on a Sunday morning in June in Leeds. Every time you step through the doors of this church you are being a witness to those who see you, of your membership and belonging to the family of All Souls’. A faithful person of God is always a witness.
(Turning to Mr.Punch) And so Mr.Punch, were you glad when your theatre in Covent Garden was packed to the doors with people wanting to watch your plays? (Mr.Punch nods his head and claps). And were you glad that Saint Paul’s Church next door was empty because the people would rather watch you being silly? (Mr.Punch lowers his head and covers his face in shame). No, and I should think not!
(Point at the congregation while Mr.Punch nods his head and claps). You are the faithful people of God in the 21st century in Leeds; the people of All Souls’. Amen.
Sermon at All Souls’ 17 April (Easter 4) 17.4.16 from Paul Stapleton
Acts 9.36-end; Revelations 7.9-end; John 10.22-30
About a year ago, we were waiting on the platform at Leeds railway station for the train to King’s Cross. All of a sudden there was a thump on the seat next to us and we were a bit surprised to find a young starling – looking just as surprised as we were – flopped on the wooden bench. The poor thing had obviously fallen out of its nest or off its perch up in the metalwork of the platform canopy. Well, it needed some sort of help as after some minutes it showed no sign of moving – but you know how it is with injured animals – birds especially. You try to touch them or pick them up and they quite literally get into an awful flap. They try to dodge you, they peck or fight back, they squawk and flutter so much that you end up feeling as upset and anxious and helpless as they are! Eventually an official came by and we pointed out this little ball of feathers and misery to her. She went straight off and returned with a station worker who was clearly a second cousin to Johnny Morris or Gerald Durrell or Chris Packham or some other TV naturalist. He quietly, confidently gathered the bird in his hands, where it just settled peacefully and allowed this lovely chap to carry it gently away to the department for lost little birds – or whatever the equivalent office is at the railway station!
What puts you in a flap? Is it knowing your child should be out playing and you can’t see them anywhere when you go to look? Or being with your gran in the supermarket and finding she’s wandered off somewhere and you can’t find her? Is it being blamed for something you haven’t actually done, or being in an strange or scary situation, or having to face some other unexpected and alarming circumstances?
Shortly before our Gospel reading from Saint John opens, Jesus had given the gift of sight to a man who had been born blind. This astonishing, unexpected event had created a stir among the people, and the Jewish leaders – the same leaders who would soon be making their plans to have Jesus put to death – were in a real flap. They had already forbidden the healed man to enter their synagogue because of this prophet who defied their rules about not treating sick people on the Sabbath. To them, Jesus is a troublemaker and they are so full of their own importance and superiority that they are completely blinded to the greater truth about the love of God which Jesus represents and now offers them. How odd – by the end of this story, the ministry of Jesus has made the blind to see and the seeing to become blind! The blind man has received the gift of sight but the authorities have chosen not to see – not to believe or understand – the message of freedom which Jesus brings. It’s so often like this with the Gospel – we can embrace it with faith and joy, recognising the cost it will involve as it begins to turn our self-centred lives inside out, or we can ignore and reject it and make ourselves the poorer, the blinder, forever after.
Surrendering himself in gratefulness to Jesus Christ, the blind man immediately gets mixed up in other people’s flapping: the noisy arguing about how did Jesus perform this healing, and who does Jesus think he is to defy the religious rules. But it is not his flap. Throughout this short passage, Jesus is reminding those of us who have given ourselves to him that we have chosen a way of life which is secure and safe beyond anything else available in the whole world. Verse 27 comes near the middle of the passage: ’My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish, and no-one shall snatch them out of my hand’. If we trust ourselves to him, Jesus Christ promises that whatever happens to us in this life, whatever shocks and jolts and flaps life has in store for us, we are always – at all times – held secure in his loving, gentle, strong hands. And the very next thing Our Lord says is, ‘My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand’. Our lives in the Spirit can be, if we will learn, full of the peace of Christ, confident and calm amidst all the commotion and turmoil of the world. Our actions, if directed by prayer and inspired by love, can become healing and nurturing for others around us – not adding to the world’s clamour and tension put pointing it towards wholeness.
At verse 24, the priests and Pharisees are menacingly gathering around Jesus: ‘How long will you keep us in suspense?’ They say they simply want to know if he really is from God, but they have obviously already decided against him and are looking for grounds to bring charges against him. The English translators of John’s original Greek words are right to say ‘How long will you keep us in suspense?’, but the Greek words actually mean something a little bit different: they say ‘Until when will you hold our lives/our souls?’ They complain Jesus is holding them in suspense, but at a deeper level God really does hold all of our souls moment by moment – how could we exist at all if we were not continually held in life by him, whether we welcome the fact or not? Let us gladly trust ourselves to those loving hands, and not fight against them or fear them.
Revelation 7 takes us up into heaven and we get a glimpse of the glorious worship of the saints and angels. Many of the saints have passed through great troubles and tribulations to get there. (Did you know that more believers died as martyrs in Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union and Communist China in the 20th century than died for their faith in the whole of the previous history of the Church? And today there are many places in the world where the freedom of worship we are enjoying this morning at All Souls’ is just a dream.) But when we gather to celebrate together the mystery of the Holy Eucharist we dare to believe that we are in the company of all the saints and martyrs, the angels and all Christian souls,
Acts 9.36-end; Revelations 7.9-end; John 10.22-30
About a year ago, we were waiting on the platform at Leeds railway station for the train to King’s Cross. All of a sudden there was a thump on the seat next to us and we were a bit surprised to find a young starling – looking just as surprised as we were – flopped on the wooden bench. The poor thing had obviously fallen out of its nest or off its perch up in the metalwork of the platform canopy. Well, it needed some sort of help as after some minutes it showed no sign of moving – but you know how it is with injured animals – birds especially. You try to touch them or pick them up and they quite literally get into an awful flap. They try to dodge you, they peck or fight back, they squawk and flutter so much that you end up feeling as upset and anxious and helpless as they are! Eventually an official came by and we pointed out this little ball of feathers and misery to her. She went straight off and returned with a station worker who was clearly a second cousin to Johnny Morris or Gerald Durrell or Chris Packham or some other TV naturalist. He quietly, confidently gathered the bird in his hands, where it just settled peacefully and allowed this lovely chap to carry it gently away to the department for lost little birds – or whatever the equivalent office is at the railway station!
What puts you in a flap? Is it knowing your child should be out playing and you can’t see them anywhere when you go to look? Or being with your gran in the supermarket and finding she’s wandered off somewhere and you can’t find her? Is it being blamed for something you haven’t actually done, or being in an strange or scary situation, or having to face some other unexpected and alarming circumstances?
Shortly before our Gospel reading from Saint John opens, Jesus had given the gift of sight to a man who had been born blind. This astonishing, unexpected event had created a stir among the people, and the Jewish leaders – the same leaders who would soon be making their plans to have Jesus put to death – were in a real flap. They had already forbidden the healed man to enter their synagogue because of this prophet who defied their rules about not treating sick people on the Sabbath. To them, Jesus is a troublemaker and they are so full of their own importance and superiority that they are completely blinded to the greater truth about the love of God which Jesus represents and now offers them. How odd – by the end of this story, the ministry of Jesus has made the blind to see and the seeing to become blind! The blind man has received the gift of sight but the authorities have chosen not to see – not to believe or understand – the message of freedom which Jesus brings. It’s so often like this with the Gospel – we can embrace it with faith and joy, recognising the cost it will involve as it begins to turn our self-centred lives inside out, or we can ignore and reject it and make ourselves the poorer, the blinder, forever after.
Surrendering himself in gratefulness to Jesus Christ, the blind man immediately gets mixed up in other people’s flapping: the noisy arguing about how did Jesus perform this healing, and who does Jesus think he is to defy the religious rules. But it is not his flap. Throughout this short passage, Jesus is reminding those of us who have given ourselves to him that we have chosen a way of life which is secure and safe beyond anything else available in the whole world. Verse 27 comes near the middle of the passage: ’My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish, and no-one shall snatch them out of my hand’. If we trust ourselves to him, Jesus Christ promises that whatever happens to us in this life, whatever shocks and jolts and flaps life has in store for us, we are always – at all times – held secure in his loving, gentle, strong hands. And the very next thing Our Lord says is, ‘My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand’. Our lives in the Spirit can be, if we will learn, full of the peace of Christ, confident and calm amidst all the commotion and turmoil of the world. Our actions, if directed by prayer and inspired by love, can become healing and nurturing for others around us – not adding to the world’s clamour and tension put pointing it towards wholeness.
At verse 24, the priests and Pharisees are menacingly gathering around Jesus: ‘How long will you keep us in suspense?’ They say they simply want to know if he really is from God, but they have obviously already decided against him and are looking for grounds to bring charges against him. The English translators of John’s original Greek words are right to say ‘How long will you keep us in suspense?’, but the Greek words actually mean something a little bit different: they say ‘Until when will you hold our lives/our souls?’ They complain Jesus is holding them in suspense, but at a deeper level God really does hold all of our souls moment by moment – how could we exist at all if we were not continually held in life by him, whether we welcome the fact or not? Let us gladly trust ourselves to those loving hands, and not fight against them or fear them.
Revelation 7 takes us up into heaven and we get a glimpse of the glorious worship of the saints and angels. Many of the saints have passed through great troubles and tribulations to get there. (Did you know that more believers died as martyrs in Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union and Communist China in the 20th century than died for their faith in the whole of the previous history of the Church? And today there are many places in the world where the freedom of worship we are enjoying this morning at All Souls’ is just a dream.) But when we gather to celebrate together the mystery of the Holy Eucharist we dare to believe that we are in the company of all the saints and martyrs, the angels and all Christian souls,
Sermon preached at All Souls, Blackman Lane on 24th April 2016 (Easter 5)
by the Revd. Canon Bob Brooke
Readings: Acts 11:1-18, Revelation 21:1-6, John 13:31-35.
You may have heard the story of Fr. Damian a Roman Catholic priest who dedicated his life to caring for people who were suffering from leprosy. Hawaii today is part of the United States of America – a beautiful place where people go for holidays. In the nineteenth century many of the people who lived in the Hawaian islands were very poor and there were many people suffering from leprosy. Anybody with that disease had to leave their home and even their own island and go and live on an island called Molokai. Fr. Damian went there determined to do what he could to help the people with leprosy. He discovered over 800 people living in a collection of dirty ramshackle huts. Many were helpless, weak and unable to do anything. Fr. Damian encouraged those who were able to clean the place up, to build better homes and to provide a good and clean water supply. He stayed with them on the island for 13 years and in the end caught the disease himself. He was given the opportunity to leave Molokai and go somewhere where he would receive better attention but he refused. Even in his last illness just before his death he gave his blankets to others he thought needed them more than he did. Right to the end of his life he showed love for those people everyone else had rejected – he treated them as fellow human beings and gave them dignity and purpose.
In our gospel reading this morning Jesus talks about glory – the glory of God being revealed in Jesus – in what he was doing and what he was about to do. This was at the last supper, the night before Jesus was to die on the cross. In John’s Gospel Jesus is glorified – his glory is shown in his death on the cross. What was the means of executing criminals – the cross, became a sign of God’s glory and his love, because in his death on the cross Jesus is giving his life in love for all of us. Jesus talks about love. “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” God will be glorified in our lives, in our church through the love we show to others in his name and God will be glorified in the people we show his love to just as God was glorified in Fr. Damian’s ministry and in the lives of the people with leprosy that he valued and cared for.
I know you’ve been thinking about healing and the healing ministry of the church. Fr. Damian’s ministry was a ministry of healing – as far as we know, none of the people he went to care for were cured of their leprosy but he was able to bring healing to them by giving them dignity and hope, helping them find a meaning and purpose in what was left of their lives.
A number of years ago I got to know a family – mum, dad and their daughter. When I met them the daughter was about 13 and was very severely disabled. When she was young she had been a healthy and intelligent girl but from around the age of 8 she began to have a series of seizures which eventually left her severely brain damaged and very disabled. By the time I met them she needed a special wheel chair to support her body. For a long time her parents simply could not accept what had happened to her – they desperately wanted their healthy little girl back again as she was before. They tried everything – Drs, different therapies, alternative medicines. They felt embarassed and ashamed by what had happened to their daughter and they hid her away – they never took her out of the house, they just couldn’t bear to be seen in the street with her. She went to a special school and a bus came and collected her from home in the morning and brought her back again each evening but apart from that she never left the house. Then some Roman Catholic friends said to the mother “Why don’t you bring her to Lourdes with us?” That seemed a ridiculous idea – they’d not even taken her as far as the corner shop, how could they take her half way across Europe. But their Catholic friends talked to them about Lourdes and how they would get there in a specially adapted jumbalance and eventually they agreed to take her.
They were amazed how throughout the journey and during their time in Lourdes the other people with them involved and included their dughter in everything – they even said you two have a night off, we’ll look after her – and they took her out for a walk by the river, around the shops, to church and to the hotel bar in the evening. To their surprise the other people seemed to enjoy being with their daughter and wanted to include her in everything they did. And whilst they were there soemthing happened – healing took place. Their daughter was just the same, just as disabled as ever but something happened to her mum and dad – they started to talk to their friends about their daughter and about the enormous sense of loss and grief they had felt when she became disabled. Many tears were shed but gradually the parents were helped to accept their daughter as she was, to learn to love her as she was. Healing took place and their attitude to their daughter began to change. When they got home they started to take their daughter everywhere, to the shops, to the park. Her mother got involved with the special school her daughter attende and became a parent governor and later became a real advocate for the rights of disabled people.
We, the Christian church are called to be a loving, healing community where God will be glorified in the love we show and in the people we give that love to. Our first reading this morning was about Peter, a Jewish follower of Jesus accepting for the first time that Gentiles could be Christians too. It is saying that our church must be inclusive – we must welcome everybody who comes to us, whoever they are, whatever they have done, we must welcome them and love them. The Christian church is for everybody because God loves everybody. Being accepted, being included can be a healing experience in itself, as opposed to being left out. The test of our commitment to Jesus, to being his disciples, is the love we show for one another and for those we encounter. Jesus said “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
Sermon preached at All Souls, Blackman Lane on 24th April 2016 (Easter 5)
by the Revd. Canon Bob Brooke
Readings: Acts 11:1-18, Revelation 21:1-6, John 13:31-35.
You may have heard the story of Fr. Damian a Roman Catholic priest who dedicated his life to caring for people who were suffering from leprosy. Hawaii today is part of the United States of America – a beautiful place where people go for holidays. In the nineteenth century many of the people who lived in the Hawaian islands were very poor and there were many people suffering from leprosy. Anybody with that disease had to leave their home and even their own island and go and live on an island called Molokai. Fr. Damian went there determined to do what he could to help the people with leprosy. He discovered over 800 people living in a collection of dirty ramshackle huts. Many were helpless, weak and unable to do anything. Fr. Damian encouraged those who were able to clean the place up, to build better homes and to provide a good and clean water supply. He stayed with them on the island for 13 years and in the end caught the disease himself. He was given the opportunity to leave Molokai and go somewhere where he would receive better attention but he refused. Even in his last illness just before his death he gave his blankets to others he thought needed them more than he did. Right to the end of his life he showed love for those people everyone else had rejected – he treated them as fellow human beings and gave them dignity and purpose.
In our gospel reading this morning Jesus talks about glory – the glory of God being revealed in Jesus – in what he was doing and what he was about to do. This was at the last supper, the night before Jesus was to die on the cross. In John’s Gospel Jesus is glorified – his glory is shown in his death on the cross. What was the means of executing criminals – the cross, became a sign of God’s glory and his love, because in his death on the cross Jesus is giving his life in love for all of us. Jesus talks about love. “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” God will be glorified in our lives, in our church through the love we show to others in his name and God will be glorified in the people we show his love to just as God was glorified in Fr. Damian’s ministry and in the lives of the people with leprosy that he valued and cared for.
I know you’ve been thinking about healing and the healing ministry of the church. Fr. Damian’s ministry was a ministry of healing – as far as we know, none of the people he went to care for were cured of their leprosy but he was able to bring healing to them by giving them dignity and hope, helping them find a meaning and purpose in what was left of their lives.
A number of years ago I got to know a family – mum, dad and their daughter. When I met them the daughter was about 13 and was very severely disabled. When she was young she had been a healthy and intelligent girl but from around the age of 8 she began to have a series of seizures which eventually left her severely brain damaged and very disabled. By the time I met them she needed a special wheel chair to support her body. For a long time her parents simply could not accept what had happened to her – they desperately wanted their healthy little girl back again as she was before. They tried everything – Drs, different therapies, alternative medicines. They felt embarassed and ashamed by what had happened to their daughter and they hid her away – they never took her out of the house, they just couldn’t bear to be seen in the street with her. She went to a special school and a bus came and collected her from home in the morning and brought her back again each evening but apart from that she never left the house. Then some Roman Catholic friends said to the mother “Why don’t you bring her to Lourdes with us?” That seemed a ridiculous idea – they’d not even taken her as far as the corner shop, how could they take her half way across Europe. But their Catholic friends talked to them about Lourdes and how they would get there in a specially adapted jumbalance and eventually they agreed to take her.
They were amazed how throughout the journey and during their time in Lourdes the other people with them involved and included their dughter in everything – they even said you two have a night off, we’ll look after her – and they took her out for a walk by the river, around the shops, to church and to the hotel bar in the evening. To their surprise the other people seemed to enjoy being with their daughter and wanted to include her in everything they did. And whilst they were there soemthing happened – healing took place. Their daughter was just the same, just as disabled as ever but something happened to her mum and dad – they started to talk to their friends about their daughter and about the enormous sense of loss and grief they had felt when she became disabled. Many tears were shed but gradually the parents were helped to accept their daughter as she was, to learn to love her as she was. Healing took place and their attitude to their daughter began to change. When they got home they started to take their daughter everywhere, to the shops, to the park. Her mother got involved with the special school her daughter attende and became a parent governor and later became a real advocate for the rights of disabled people.
We, the Christian church are called to be a loving, healing community where God will be glorified in the love we show and in the people we give that love to. Our first reading this morning was about Peter, a Jewish follower of Jesus accepting for the first time that Gentiles could be Christians too. It is saying that our church must be inclusive – we must welcome everybody who comes to us, whoever they are, whatever they have done, we must welcome them and love them. The Christian church is for everybody because God loves everybody. Being accepted, being included can be a healing experience in itself, as opposed to being left out. The test of our commitment to Jesus, to being his disciples, is the love we show for one another and for those we encounter. Jesus said “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”