Flood Damage - Is the hand of God jolted by human interference?

Britain is on course for its wettest winter in 250 years, a crisis that could cost the country at least £0.5 billion. Weeks of relentless, exceptional rain and hurricane force winds has seen millions of people in Devon and Cornwall lose their train connection with the rest of England; sections of rail track across the South are functioning intermittently; flooded roads are expected to remain closed, homes, shops and businesses in the submerged counties of Somerset, Oxfordshire, Essex, Suffolk, Hertfordshire, Berkshire and Cambridgeshire have been flooded. The Environment Agency’s latest map of looming hotspots is dotted with so many red and yellow dots it looks as is the south of England has a rash. It would appear that each morning floods are again bringing misery to many and, as one who lives within sight of a River, my heart goes out to those whose houses, businesses or farmland have been flooded or are threatened.

The severe weather has brought much comment. Much of it is, understandably, angry, some is of the ‘told-you-so’ variety; and most of it feels too late: ‘if only you hadn’t built there,’ says the engineer to the developer; ‘if only you had stopped burning fossil fuels,’ says the environmentalist to the consumer; ‘if only you had acted quicker,’ says the local resident to the government minister.

In all the comments and arguments perspective is vital. The bulk of Britain, indeed the bulk of southern Britain is unaffected by floods. No Government is to blame for rain, although it is worrying that the sixth largest economy in the world appears to be unable to manage this present crisis and that a whole corner of the country could lose its rail network for 6 weeks, if not longer.

Before population pressure forced peoples to live on the brinks and in the basins of their lands, a flood was seen as a seasonal boon. Civilisation was nurtured on the crescent plain over which the Tigris and the Euphrates annually deposited their fertile silts. Ancient Egyptians hymned the Hep-Ur or “sweet water” of an overspilling Nile. But as populations swelled with the passing of centuries, as rivers were embanked, coastal waters walled and settlements established in areas once submerged, the flood has become a bane. Rising waters bring death and disease; they ruin crops, destroy industries and disrupt transport systems.

The intense storms that have been lashing Britain this winter are “likely to be linked to man-made global warming” according to the Met Office’s chief scientist. All the evidence suggests that climate change has been a contributing factor – a warmer atmosphere holds more water.  Is the hand of God then jolted by human interference? The evidence that humans are the dominant cause of current global warming is overwhelming and continues to grow. There are several greenhouse gases responsible for warming, and humans emit them in a variety of ways. Most come from the combustion of fossil fuels in cars, factories and electricity production. The gas responsible for the most warming is carbon dioxide. Other contributors include methane released from landfills and agriculture (especially from the digestive systems of grazing animals), nitrous oxide from fertilizers, gases used for refrigeration and industrial processes, and the loss of forests that would otherwise store carbon dioxide.

The Met Office's latest analysis finds that persistent rainfall over Indonesia and the tropical West Pacific triggered the weather system that has sent wave after wave of storms across the Atlantic to the UK. It says: "The severe weather in the UK coincided with exceptionally cold weather in Canada and the USA. These extreme weather events on both sides of the Atlantic were linked to a persistent pattern of perturbations to the jet stream over the Pacific Ocean and North America.”

Steven Croft, the bishop of Sheffield, quoted in The Guardian, Wednesday 12^th February 2014 described the threat of climate change as "a giant evil; a great demon of our day", adding: "Its power is fed by greed, blindness and complacency in the present generation, and we know that this giant wreaks havoc though the immense power of the weather systems, which are themselves unpredictable." He said the church had a "critical role" to play in lobbying politicians on climate change in order to bring about manifesto commitments to reach the target of an 80% reduction in UK greenhouse gas emissions by 2050.

The church's renewed commitment to tackling climate change was welcomed by Christian charities. Paul Cook, advocacy director of Tearfund, said the current flood in Britain was serving as a wake-up call to the church. "The climate really is changing, and it's happening now," he said. "It's not just a problem for our grandchildren, it's not just a problem for polar bears, it's not just a problem for people thousands of miles away; it's a problem for us too, today."

"Climate change is increasingly becoming one of the moral issues of our time and the church has a powerful voice with which to speak," said Christian Aid's senior climate change adviser, Dr Alison Doig. "The next 18 months will significantly shape the politics of climate change with the UN global deal on emissions expected in Paris next year and the publication of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change report next month. The church can now engage prophetically on this subject and speak with a united voice for those suffering both here and abroad."

In the meantime we remember in prayer people and communities affected or threatened by flood water and the emergency services and military that is helping to relieve their misery.

Ray Anglesea

Ray Anglesea is a self-supporting minister working in Durham Cathedral bookshop,

Crook Local Ecumenical Partnership and in the West Durham Methodist CircuitI

Candlemas liturgy

Candlemas

A powerpoint liturgy used for the celebration of Candlemas at Crook Local Ecumenical Partnership, Sunday 2^nd February 2014.STF = Singing the Faith, New Methodist Hymn Book. STF 232 Through long year of watchful waiting (Tune STF 14 Regent Square )was written by a previous Crook LEP minister, Revd. Tom Wilkinson.

 Epiphany gifts are gold (chocolate coins), myrrh (bath oil) and frankincense (incense), Poem and Sketch from “Cloth for the Cradle,” Wild Goose Publications. Music as stated. Candles decorate the church and communion table.

        

   Giovanni Bellini:  The Presentation at the Temple, c1459

                                             

              Presentation of Jesus at the Temple

Introduction

Dear friends: forty days ago we celebrated the birth of our Lord Jesus        Christ. Now we recall the day on which he was presented in the Temple, when he was offered to the Father and shown to his people. In their old age Simeon and Anna recognised him as their Lord. In this service we remember both the joy of his coming and his searching judgement, looking back to the day of his birth and forward to the coming days of his passion.

Call to worship: Open for me the gates of righteousness; I will enter and give thanks to the Lord.

Psalm 118:19

Epiphany Gifts. Gold, incense and myrrh are brought to the communion table

Gold of Gold we seek your glory, the richness that transforms our drabness into colour and brightens our dullness with vibrant light.

God of incense we offer you our spoken and unspeakable longings, our questioning of truth, our search for your mystery deep within.

God of Myrrh we cry out to you in our suffering, the pain of all our rejections, our baffled despair at undeserved suffering and we embrace you, God, with us, in our wealth, in our yearning, in our anger and loss.

Prayer: Gracious God, as your Son Jesus Christ was presented in the  temple and acclaimed a light to the nations, so grant that in him we may be presented to you to shine in the world as lights that reflect his glory. God our Father, whose Son was revealed to Simeon as the light of the nations, and the glory of Israel, let these candles (+) be to us a sign of his light and presence, that, guided by the Holy Spirit, we may live by the light of faith until we come to the light of glory, through Jesus Christ our Lord.        

 Hymn: STF 34 O worship the Lord in the beauty of Holiness

Poem: It was to older folk that Jesus came: Wild Goose Community   

  

Psalm 102 (verses 15-16, 18-22)

Let all the peoples praise you, O Lord, Let all the peoples praise you; Let all the peoples praise you, O Lord, Let all the peoples praise you;	2. For generations as yet to be born wrote this, that they may in turn praise the Lord; God who surveys the earth from heaven shall set the captives free. Alleluia. Let all the peoples........
1. Nations and rulers shall one day revere God’s holy name and God’s marvellous glory, when the Lord comes to build Zion again, showing his majesty. Alleluia. Let all the peoples...........	3. Zion shall hear the Lord proudly declared; God’s praise shall resound in Jerusalem’s soul; Kingdoms and peoples shall one day unite, serving the Lord their God. Alleluia Let all the peoples .................

Sketch: Anna and Simeon: Wild Goose Community

Music: Song of the Angels, Margaret Rizza and the St Thomas Music Group.

Offertory Hymn: STF 229 Mary and Joseph came to the Temple (Tune STF 125 Bunessan)

Offertory Prayers:

Reading: Malachi 3:1-5 The prophet not only foretells the coming of the Saviour, but also proclaims that the Lord will come and be seen in his Temple

Hymn: STF 232 Through long year of watchful waiting (Tune STF 14 Regent Square)

Lord to whom shall we go, you have the words of eternal life

Gospel: Luke 2:22-40 we hear the account of Mary and Joseph presenting Jesus in the Temple, as the Jewish Law required, and Simeon, recognizing the Christ-child as the light of the world

Lord to whom shall we go, you have the words of eternal life

Music: Nunc Dimittis: Geoffery Burgon, Wells Cathedral Choir

Sermon:

Prayers of Intercession

Hymn: Arise, shine out your light has come (Tune: Church Triumphant)

1. Arise, shine out, your light has come, unfolding city of our dreams. On distant hills a glory gleams: the new creation has begun.	4. The sounds of violence shall cease as dwellings of salvation rise to sparkle in eternal skies from avenues of praise and peace.
2. Above earth's valleys, thick with night, high on your walls the dawn appears, and history shall dry its tears, as nations stream towards your light.	5. The dancing air shall glow with light, and sun and moon give up their place, when love shines out of every face, our good, our glory, and delight.
3. From walls surpassing time and space unnumbered gates, like open hands, shall gather gifts from all the lands, and welcome all the human race. Brian Wren	James Williams Elliott

Benediction: Lord you fulfilled the hope of Simeon and Anna who lived to welcome the Messiah, may we be prepared to meet Christ Jesus when he comes to bring us to eternal life. So may Jesus Christ, born of Mary, fill you with his grace to trust his promises and obey his will.  

And the blessing of God Almighty......................

Candlemas

A sermon preached by Ray Anglesea at St Andrew's Dawson Street, Crook - 2-Feb-2014

The best days of Christmas for me are those that fall between the 1^st January and 2nd February, the feast of Candlemas. Strictly speaking this time has more to do with Epiphany- tide than Christmas, but I like this time of the year not only because I am still eating Christmas cake, mince pies and finishing of the Christmas pudding with lashing of Brandy Cream but because the Christian story rolls on in quiet, week by week gospel readings, and we begin to see and understand who that baby in the manger is, the penny begins to drop.................... The fullness of God revealed in Christ.

But Candlemas is a strange festival. 

Down with the rosemary, and so

Down with the bays and mistletoe;
Down with the holly, ivy, all

Wherewith ye dressed the Christmas hall;

so wrote Robert Herrick, writing in the 17th century. It sounds like a poem about Twelfth Night. But it's called ‘Ceremony upon Candle­mas Eve,’ according to the dean of Durham.

Originating back as far as the 5^th century, Candlemas, 2^nd of February was a feast for blessing the candles in church. In the middle ages, at Candlemas there were elaborate ceremonies of blessing tapers and carrying them in procession to light up churches and there was much partying. Sound good to me.

In the calendar the 2^nd February is one of those cross-quarter days, half way between the solstice and the equinox, like All Saints’ Day, marking the progress of the cycles of the seasons. Such days bring us close to nature. if Candlemas Day “is fair and bright, winter will have another flight; if the day brings clouds and rain, winter will not come again.”

In Durham Cathedral, where I work, two small Christmas trees arrayed with twinkling lights are to be found either side of the quire steps – they are still there. Many visitors and tourists ask why we leave the trees up after 12^th night. The answer usually given is that the Christmas season does not end until 2^nd February. The famous miner’s nativity crib too is left out until the last hours of Candlemas. In Durham Cathedral this afternoon the cathedral is lit up with over 2,000 small candles, on ledges, pulpits, on the base of columns, around the baptistery, to celebrate the end of the Christmas period. It is indeed a beautiful atmospheric service; may favourite service of the whole year.

Candlemas also commemorates the encounter of Jesus, Mary and Joseph with Simeon and Anna as we saw in our sketch and heard from our gospel. Candlemas recalls how the infant Jesus was brought to the temple, received by Simeon and blessed by God. Those young parents, Mary and Joseph, and elderly Simeon and Anna nearing their deaths, and the little tiny child: all of humanity is there, beautifully portrayed in the masterpiece painted by Rembrandt, a few months before his own death; the painting must have come from the depth of Rembrandt’s soul confronted by his own approaching end while touched by a vision of faith and hope. Simeon and Anna spent their whole life in and around the temple in Jerusalem waiting for what Simeon called the “consolation of Israel.” In the autumn of their lives they rejoiced and thanked God for the sight of the baby Jesus, the young prince of the house of David. Seeing Jesus enabled them to see something greater than death. They could see God’s salvation in Jesus and therefore were able to face their own deaths in peace. What Simeon had discerned however imperfectly was a revelation of unlimited loving, a child whose entire life, fired by love without reserve would bring light and glory.

Candlemas is the last childhood “snapshot” we have of Jesus. Next time we meet him in the temple he will be an adolescent, confounding teachers and scribes, and then not again until adulthood. So the childhood stories, packed as they are with meaning and symbolism are worth unpacking. Even more so since Candlemas is a “pivotal feast”, one last look over the shoulder at Christmas before the serious season of Lent gets underway.

What should we make of the “odd couple,” Simeon and Anna, waiting to see the Holy Family? They are a bit late in getting in their plaudits, aren't they? The shepherds have long gone and even the wise men are on their way home. Yet the gospel carries an important message in stretching out the timeframe for recognising Jesus. Consider the wise men. The genius of their story lies in the fact that they come to Jesus through unconventional routes. They do not get to Jesus by proper observance or by following the Old Testament – they come through their religion to see the light, and this is important, they return home with it. But Anna and Simeon are apparently more conventional. They don’t make journeys. They have waited, kept their counsel, waited and waited and waited. I like their part in this aspect of the Christmas story, for waiting is what many of us must do, even if there is an important distinction to be made here: that between waiting and dithering, of being patient and of being delayed.

It was reported that a minister was visiting projects in Africa. His busy programme was running very late and the road linking his various destinations was rugged and slow. He was five hours late on arriving at the final gathering of the day, and a great crowd of people greeted his arrival with singing and dancing. The honoured guest was full of apologies for his late arrival, to which he received the memorable, if intriguing, reply. “Don’t worry. We knew that the longer we waited, the sooner you would come.”

I am still pondering the logic of those words, but suspect that it is a response that springs from a degree of patience that is now all too rare in our fast, western culture. Waiting patiently is, for many, a counter-cultural activity in a society that expects so much to be delivered in an instant. By contrast, the Psalmist tells us that if we wait patiently for God; he shall give you your heart’s desire. 

That said, the ability to wait with patience is surely valuable, especially as some of the toughest bits of our living can require it. My daughter as many of you know waited patiently for nine months for her baby boy to be born, only to learn that 6 hours after his birth he was not going to make it. A dear friend of ours gave Ki and I this nugget of gold - "Time is of no consequence to God, and to him the shortest life is as significant as the longest. The short life of my grandson; the long lives of Anna and Simeon are significant.

Grieving can take patience. A widow reflected on just how long her deep, and often biting, grief was lasting following the death of her husband. She made no secret of just how tough it all was, but then pointed out that it would be very strange if such pain simply evaporated when she had lost the most significant person in her life. She was having to learn patience, and it took time for her to discover that, when all that was familiar and secure had shifted, her feet were once more on rock and her steps were again secure. It took time to learn that she had a new song to sing - perhaps in the minor key, but with a deep note of gratitude for all that had been, and with renewed trust that God was with her in the dark and difficult places. It takes patient waiting to discover that the depth we can encounter can hold possibilities, lessons and inner strengths that we might not have found in any other place.

For the virtues of determination, patience and waiting are rewarded. As they say Good things come to those who wait.

And isn’t this the point of Candlemas? Part of the genius of the Christmas narrative is to make us journey to see Jesus – we need to go looking for him; seek him out, make an effort. But the gospel also tells it another way. To those who cannot move or do not know how to, to those who are patient, for those who wait, God will also come. Later in the life of Jesus, Jesus will meet seekers and those who came to him, but he will also seek the lost and the ignorant, and those who’d never thought of looking; he is there for them just as much.  And isn’t it strange that the last people in the Christmas story are probably the oldest and wisest. Ann and Simeon, who embody the wisdom of waiting, the virtue of patience and the strength to endure, according to Luke are rewarded for being there – for not deserting their posts.

The outcome of this encounter at the temple is the beautiful Nunc Dimmitis, Simeon blesses the child and the family, and leaves Anna, whose words are not recorded, to prophesy. To be sure, this is a strange encounter on a special day.

I sometime think how funny it is that Jesus spent so little time in religious buildings, and on the first two occasions, like most children, he had to been taken there by his parents with little choice in the matter. When he was old enough to make up his own mind he hardly ever seemed to go. But is it good that Luke affirms that Jesus can be found in the temple. But you can also find him outside the church. God is not constrained by our walls, whether physical, tribal or doctrinal, and he sometimes get inside them. Simeon and Anna found God inside faith; alas many don’t.

And so at the end of the service we will blow the candles out.  It is a deliberate, almost sacrilegious thing to do: to extinguish the light of the infant Jesus. Yet this movement from light to darkness is as important as the more comfortable journey from darkness to light. It is a truth of our humanity. There are many who exist in a kind of twilight world with little belief or hope or lasting values to sustain them. Our world faces dark times with the threats of war, global poverty, disease and climate change. And more personally, we know in our lives and relationships how the light dims from time to time, and when it does, the dark feels hopeless and frightening. Sometimes even faith can desert us; and then, in the dark cloud of unknowing when we have taken leave of God, we are ever more in need of his mercy.

During cold February days, light and dark mingle at this time of year. The light, glorious as it is, is still partial and fragile, for the dark and the cold will cling on for a few weeks yet. Yet the days are getting longer now. The worst of winter may not yet be over, but February doesn't last forever. Soon we shall climb towards Easter. To turn this morning in our service from the Christmas liturgical cycle to the Paschal cycle is to turn from winter to spring. The sap is rising, snowdrops and green shoots are appearing in the gardens.  As we gather here in chapel during the last hours of Christmas, we light candles of longing in dark places and keep the precious flame alive. For soon the Easter day will break and candles and shadows will flee away; Christ will become the eternal light and the glory of the nations, and our hope will emptied in delight.

Amen

Holocaust Memorial Day

A reflection shared by Ray Anglesea
with the congregation of St Andrew's Dawson Street, Crook

Holocaust Memorial Day takes place on 27 January each year. It’s a time to pause, to remember the millions of people who were murdered or whose lives were changed beyond recognition during the Nazi Persecution and in subsequent genocides in Cambodia, Rwanda, Bosnia and Darfur. 27 January marks the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau, the largest Nazi death camp. By chance I was in Ripon Cathedral a couple of years ago and came across a moving and powerful art installation to commemorate the Holocaust. 6 million +, Every person counts, an artwork of 6 million buttons, each one representing someone killed in the Holocaust.  The buttons were spread across the north aisle of the Cathedral both on the floor and in symbolic glass funnels. The Exhibition was created by the Leeds based artist Antonia Stowe. It was a powerful and moving experience.

The holocaust together with natural disasters represents one of the greatest practical problems for belief in God, the fact of suffering. An American Rabbi, Irving Greenberg after reading the transcript of one of the Nuremberg trials relating to Auschwitz subsequently reported “Evidently at one stage the decision was taken by the Nazi authorities not to put young Jewish children into the gas chambers, but to throw them alive into the crematoria, and the screams were heard throughout the camp.” Greenberg was later to comment ‘No statement, theological or otherwise, should be made that could not be made with credibility in the presence of the burning children.’ Much suffering is truly terrible, and in the face of such suffering any believer in God must pause.

In the case of the Holocaust there were other human beings who could, and have been,  held responsible. We know, all too terribly, that we human beings have been given free will, and some have abused that free will most dreadfully. It was Edmund Burke who once said ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ It is a salutary warning that we would all do well to reflect upon.

But then there are other disasters that were not the responsibility of human beings, and where freewill cannot be used as an explanation, still less an excuse. The tsunami of Boxing Day 2004 resulted in a quarter of a million people killed and well over a million people displaced; and the final death toll of the recent typhoon Haiyan which devastated the Philippines in November last year is yet to be finally calculated. These horrific disasters raise the question of ‘Where was God?’ That was a question that was similarly asked in 1755 after the tragedy of the Lisbon earthquake that may have killed up to 100,000 people. The immediate response of most at the time was to view it as a sign of God’s anger against sinful humanity and to call for public acts of contrition and repentance. A more sober and reasonable answer was given by the Oxford theologian Austin Farrer, who said that God was there allowing the earth’s crust to behave according to its nature. Much the same answer on the movement of tectonic plates could be given about the tsunami, typhoons and earthquakes, and although very tough I suppose that answer is essentially true. The universe is as it is, and I am not sure that we can wish God had made it otherwise. Perhaps we need a world with the possibilities of challenge and tragedy if strong character is ever to be formed. If everything was just easy and there was no possibility of disaster maybe that would produce only easy and complacent character.

Reflections like that show that it is very difficult to sustain any notion of God being a sort of master-puppeteer, pulling the strings of the world to make things happen. Of course some Christians do believe that, and some have had the temerity to suggest that natural disasters are somehow a punishment on people for some wickedness. What any of the young children who died can have done to deserve that is, I confess, completely beyond me, and I find such expressions by some Christians frankly offensive. If God is a master puppeteer like that it seems to me he is nothing other than a monster, and certainly does not deserve our love or our respect.

But maybe God is not like that. God is not all powerful in the way some would suggest, because any act of creation carries with it an element of risk. As a grandfather of who has lost a grandchild of late, I know only to clearly. Once something is created, whether it be a universe or a grandchild, it then has a life of its own and cannot be simply manipulated. In the case of our world, both because of the nature of the physical world and the nature of human beings there is always the possibility of terrible tragedy and even disaster, and the question about God is what will God-fearing people do in response to it. The answer seems to be, thank God, in many cases they strive to overcome the consequences and to re-build, learning the lessons of whatever disaster it was. I find a far more compelling notion of where God was in an event like a natural disaster is to see him in the practical love and compassion of those individuals and agencies who bring help and relief to those who are traumatised by the disaster, and to see him in the resilience, courage and determination shown by some of the victims who strive to live authentically even in the midst of tragedy, and who, if they survive, then seek to put their lives and the lives of their communities back together again afterwards. God may have been there in creating the world as it is, but he is also there in the victims, who are also part of his creation, creating the world as it will be.

But there is also a Christian dimension and perspective. The Christian Church has always believed that in some way the person of Jesus Christ shows us what God is like. It is not that Jesus is God-like, but that God is Jesus-like. And in the crucifixion we see Jesus fully participating in human suffering. Some theologians say that we should not speak of God suffering because that makes him subject to his creation, and it stops him being God. Well, maybe; but the cross of Christ surely shows us that there is the knowledge of suffering experienced in a deeply personal way in the Godhead. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer a German Lutheran pastor, theologian, dissident anti-Nazi, and founding member of the Confessing Church stated “Only a suffering God will do.”

I do not think it is fanciful in that sense to speak of God suffering. Many will know the story told by Ellie Wiesel, a survivor of the Holocaust, who witnessed in a Nazi concentration camp some men being hung, among whom was a young boy, who took some time to die because his body was light and therefore he did not die quickly. As the boy writhed on the rope Wiesel heard someone ask ‘Where is God now?’ and he found himself answering ‘In that boy.’

God is there in the suffering victims of this world’s disasters. He was there in the Holocaust, he was there in the tsunami, in the Philippines and in Syria, as I understand it he was there in the victims who suffered, just as he was not there in Pilate and in Herod, but in the victim on the cross at Golgotha. That is where we can find God, and that is where we can choose now to follow him, in seeking to ensure that nothing like the Holocaust can ever happen again, and in ensuring that our world is managed in such a way that there are realistic warning systems for tsunamis and typhoons, and that buildings in earthquake areas can be built to resist possible tremors. We cannot push all the blame on God, even though in the Cross we can see him accepting some of it; the responsibility for managing the world as it is lies with us.

To behold

Sermon preached by Ray Anglesea at Wolsingham Methodist Church Covenant Service

Sunday 19^th January 2014

The Calling of Saints Peter and Andrew: Matthew 4 v18-20

                       Caravagio (1603 -1606) 

One of the joys of working in the circuit is the beautiful scenic car drive from Brancepeth village along Stockley Lane to the B6299 through the former pit villages of Stanley along the ridge at Billy Row, to Sunniside then on to Tow Law and the B6297 down Redgate Bank passing the John Duckett Martyrs Memorial Cross to Wolsingham. Whatever the season, Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall as Carole King’s song goes the view of Weardale from along this route is spectacular, with farmland, dry stone walls, sheep, stunning views of rich green agricultural land, redundant limestone quarries, small historic villages, significant buildings, footpaths and a train service. I often stop the car at the War Memorial at the top of Billy Row bank to drink in the sheer beauty of this striking valley; the valley certainly has what my children would call the “Wow” factor.

I wonder what your wow factors might be, sunsets at the beach perhaps, a beautiful meal with friends, a graduation ceremony, sitting by a cascading waterfall, an international holiday, reading a poem, standing in front of a masterpiece, holding a grandchild, standing by Seaham Harbour lighthouse at the waves crash over the stone pier? Some friends of mine recently celebrated a significant birthday drinking champagne in the Grand Canyon, Arizona; they flew into the striking and awesome Colorado River Canyon by helicopter from Las Vegas. They have never stopped talking about it since. It was a wonderful and memorable holiday indeed. Wow!

In our gospel reading this morning we hear of a “Wow” moment. John the Baptist sees Jesus coming, and in the translation offered by the King James Bible says, “The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him and saith “Behold, the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.”

The word I love most in this reading this morning is the word Behold – John says “Behold , the lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.” Behold. Not a word we use too much these days, rather old fashioned you might say, but the bible is full of beholds – “Behold, A virgin shall conceive and bear a son,” “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy” – you can almost hear the tunes of The Messiah ringing through the acclamations. And that notion of beholding - that’s what I feel like when I drive into Weardale, to “Behold Weardale in all its beauty,” a breathtaking momentary experience. I wonder whether Prince William had a wow moment when he beheld Kate Middelton, his bride at his wedding in Westminster Abbey. A couple of seasons ago I sung with my Newcastle choir Vaughan William’s Sea Symphony; the chorus starts with a majestic and stately opening “Behold the Sea - itself,” the majestic fanfare of an introduction of Walt Whitman’s poem. It is music to arrest your attention, to make you listen. At Crook last Advent the chapel community looked at a number of Advent poems, one of which was Edwin Muir’s poem The Annuniciation. The 19^th century Orkadian poet too has a wow moment; he asks the reader to focus and gaze intently at the moment of the annunciation. He addresses the stillness and the holiness of the moment when an angel brings the news that heaven and earth are to be united in the body of an ordinary woman. He uses words like “bliss,” limbs and “trembling” which hint at the importance of this religious moment as he focuses on the two faces of Mary and the Angel, their mutual gaze and the sense that they increasingly reflect each other. Next Sunday we shall look at the call of the disciples from Matthew 4, the calling of Andrew and Peter, James and John. The early seventeenth century Italian painter Caravaggio painted the scene in 1603 or there abouts; the painting was purchased by Charles 1 – an avid art collector – in 1637. Sold during the Commonwealth it was re-acquired by Charles II after the Restoration. It has since remained in royal possession, and is today owned by The Queen. Kept in Hampton Court Palace it was long believed to be a virtually worthless copy of a lost original, but after six years of restoration and examination the Royal Collection declared on 10 November 2006, that this was, in fact, an authentic Caravaggio. The verdict has been corroborated by external experts, and the painting is now probably worth more than £50 million. A Wow moment indeed 

The words that John ‘seeth Jesus coming unto him’ makes me imagine the way they are viewing each other, eyeing each other up, holding each other in their gaze, not just a walking towards, but with a look that says it all - John is the one seen and chosen by Jesus. To behold then is to see with complete attention, to see the remarkable. To “behold the lamb of God.” Here is a phrase so rich in meaning. ‘Lamb of God’ – for the Jews, here is a word with a whole history of powerful symbolic meaning.

The sacrificial lamb, the unblemished lamb whose blood was smeared on the two doorposts and the lintels of the Jewish household as a sign of God’s liberating saving power, a covenant sign that God had chosen to enter into their history. The Jews believed no one could see the face of God and live. But now John the Baptist calls us to behold – to behold the one who becomes our liberator, the saviour, the friend of sinners. We are called to look on the face of God.

We will be called later in this covenant service to behold with all our attention the sacrament of Holy Communion  - for some Holy Communion is the living presence of God shown forth in bread and wine, for others it may be a picture or representation of God in bread and wine, which is of itself a wow moment.  ‘Beholding the lamb of God’ at Holy Communion is to look into the presence of God. It is being filled by it. It is to see salvation.

John the Baptist in our Gospel today makes space for the one he beholds. He does not try to convince or explain. In fact as soon as he sees Christ, he gets out of the way himself: “Behold the lamb that taketh away the sin of the world.” John opens himself to the one who comes. He really sees. He is suddenly aware of the blessing of God breaking into the world. He sees the heavens opened and sees the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove. He knows the Son of God is here with us.

There is a brave humility in this recognition. John does not cling onto this blessing or attempt to possess it, or to seize it for himself as a mark of his own authority or power. There is no attempt to control or manipulate or possess. Here is an example to each one of us and to the Church at the start of his New Year. This blessing of God is for all to behold; it is not the possession of the institution to dispense. It is the love of God like sunlight falling on each one of us. How then must we respond? John lets go. He opens his hands. He responds to Christ with a generosity which mirrors the grace of God. He tells his disciples to “behold the lamb of God” – he points towards Christ and allows them to follow. “Where are you staying?” they ask Jesus. “Come and see,” Jesus replies. And over a meal and drinks which lasted at least till four o'clock in the afternoon; there appears another wow moment for Andrew – he experiences a new calling, a new walk with God. His first response was to find his brother, and, with extraordinary certainty asserts that he had found the Messiah. And so Andrew and his friends answer the call and offer their lives for renewal, without knowing the outcome.

As Andrew and Peter were different people who were called by Jesus, it is worth remembering at the start of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity God does not call any one type. God calls all types. The gifts are not competitive, but rather complementary. The gifts are bestowed from grace, so all may be of benefit. The unity of the Church flows from diversity, not uniformity. From the very beginnings of the Gospels, the story about vocations is a testimony to the extraordinary range of people that God uses to share in the work of the Kingdom, it is about a God who uses our weaknesses – the foolish and base things of the world to bring about change. Which is why he says to each and every one of us today, as he did to the fisherman at the beginning of the Gospel today – Come and see.

Perhaps that is the best New Year’s resolution any of us could make: to behold Christ in one another, and to behold Christ’s presence in our own lives; a beholding which means becoming aware of blessing, to “behold the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”

Amen

Isaiah 49.1-7; 1 Corinthians 1.1-9; John 1.29-42

MP 728 We have a gospel to proclaim

MP 65 Brightest and Best (tune: Epiphany Hymn)

MP 67 Breathe on me breath of God

MP 755 When I survey the wondrous cross

MP 501 O Jesus I have promised

A Call to Unity

A reflection by Ray Anglesea for St Andrew's Dawson Street, Crook:

Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, Jan 18-25 2014

One of the highlights of my ministerial training was a visit to the Holy Land. I remember being driven by the Sea of Galilee and walking in the hills above, in the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali as mentioned in the Old and New Testaments. It is a particularly beautiful part of the world. Being in Israel of course reveals the contrast between the New Testament land of the mind and the New Testament land of physical reality. To walk in the synagogue at Capernaum, a later building than the one Jesus would have known but on the same site, and from there just to stroll a few yards to the Galilee shore where he met and called Peter and Andrew, James and John is to make the New Testament feel very close in the town that Jesus made his home.

But there were unpleasant memories of that pilgrimage too. Swimming in the Dead Sea was not an agreeable or pleasurable experience. The other disturbing recollection was when a small group of ordinands, myself included, took an early Sunday walk to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, the possible site of the crucifixion and burial of Jesus. We heard a Greek Orthodox Service clashing with an Armenian one, and with other Christian groups each with some stake in different chapels in the church holding their own services. Christian Unity was not obviously evident. But then has it ever been?

In the 16^th century the Christian church in Western Europe was torn apart. The events are well known. Rome’s slothful response to allegations of its corruption and failures provoked vigorous reaction. The need for reform seemed overwhelming. The Augustinian friar Martin Luther nailed his Ninety-five Theses to the door of the church in Wittenburg, Ulrich Zwingli’s influences had soon swept through Zurich, and in due course John Calvin controlled Geneva. King Henry VIII was at first an ally of the Pope but, frustrated by the failure to have his marriage to Catherine of Aragon annulled, he severed the English Church’s bond with Rome and had himself proclaimed head. The Roman Catholic Church’s reaction to these initiatives led to the summoning of the Council of Trent. It met for three extended periods between 1545 and 1563 and renewed the Church’s teaching, spirituality and discipline. It articulated the stand of the Counter-Reformation. Positions became fixed. Controversy flourished and persecution became common. People were put to death. Everyone of whatever persuasion could appeal to martyrs. The outlook was bleak.

There was more to come. As a result of the Act of Uniformity in 1662 priests in the Church of England sought freedom to live and worship outside the bounds of the established English Church; the concept of non-conformity was borne and the Presbyterian and Congregational churches later came into being. In the 18^th century the Methodist Movement/Church was founded by John Wesley; it became a highly successful evangelical movement in Britain and later in the United States. Wesley’s work also helped lead to the development of the Holiness Movement and Pentecostalism. The search for unity amongst the Anglican, Reformed and Methodist traditions continues to this day with some, albeit small, progress.

At his Last Supper, Jesus had prayed to his Father that all those who believe in Him “may become completely one.” This prayer has a purpose. Jesus longed for the unity of believers “so that the world may know that You have sent Me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (John 17 v23). The unity of Christians was to be a sign to the whole human race of God’s love for everyone.

When I am tempted to get despondent by the state of the church today and reflect on its history as briefly outlined above I just sit down and read the epistles of Paul to the Corinthians. I realise the search for unity in the church is as old as the hills. Against the fractious background of the early churches Paul’s plea that they should be of the same mind and the same judgement is paramount. The epistle shows just how complicated the idea of Unity had become. All those in the church of Corinth no doubt felt they were following Christ, they had responded each in their own way to his call, but we also discover from Paul’s letter that, nonetheless, even then the church was fractious and divided, with various factions competing for pre-eminence. 

And so ever since Paul’s time different churches have gone their own way. But then perhaps it was inevitable, especially if you do not think that unity implies uniformity. Each of the churches represented down the ages of history has had its own history, its life moulded by events often outside its own control, the debates and discussions that have taken place over the years among its members, each making its contribution to their life today. We should not be surprised that 2000 years of diverse experiences and debates and temperaments have produced diverse churches with different emphases. And even within our own local churches in Crook there are assorted traditions and practices; high and low churches, Evangelical and Catholic, conservative and liberal, social activists and those more quietist in their approach; we all rub up against one another with much of our history in common.

But I do not believe that diversity matters as long as we all recognise what unites us. We have in our respective traditions heard a call to follow Christ. A clue to our unity therefore might be found in our Gospel reading appointed for the Sunday after the week of Prayer for Christian Unity, when we bring to mind the calling, by the Sea of Galilee, of Simon Peter, Andrew, James and John (in the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali). We are not simply hearing a story of something that happened two thousand years ago in a part of the world far distant from Crook, that same Jesus addresses each of us now (in the present tense) as he did to Simon and Andrew, James and John by the Sea of Galilee, and he says to us now as he said to them then: ‘Follow me’.

Follow me implies in our traditions seeking to see the world not though our own so often self-centred eyes, but try to see the world through God’s eyes, and to see what it means to live in a universe that has a loving God at its centre and running through it all, giving it, and us, life. Jesus says follow me, in putting that truth above all others in determining the priorities of our lives. He says follow me in putting the needs of others, including the needs of the poor, the disposed, the infirm and the persecuted at the very least on a par with our own needs and wishes. And above all he says follow me, if necessary even in the path of self-sacrifice, because it is in giving our lives for the sake of others that we find our own true life. It is a compelling but demanding call that Jesus addresses to each of us now, but then, as the writer of the epistle to the Hebrews wrote, “it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.”

That is the glue that holds us together, for all our diversity. Inevitably it will mean different things for different people in different circumstances, but the core remains the same, a response to the call to follow Christ.

Christmas Day Sermon

preached by Ray Anglesea at St Andrew's Dawson Street, Crook - 25-December-2013

 

Every year in Advent the good folk of Barnard Castle United Reformed Church decorate their church with an advent theme; this year the church was decorated with a fresco of stars. The stars of the night sky reminded me of a Christmas card the Bishop of London sent to his clergy and a colleague of mine in the London Diocese a couple of years ago. At first sight the Christmas card looked like one of those wonderful and spectacular star pictures from the Hubble Telescope, but on closer inspection the Christmas card picture turned out to be of light, not from some far-distant supernova exploded star, but the lights of London seen from the International Space Station. Such breathtaking space pictures of the Earth have taken Twitter by storm during the last couple of months; they were posted by the Canadian astronaut Chris Hadfield aboard the International Space Station. His astonishing pictures taken from 250 miles above the earth’s surface included pictures of Manchester, Liverpool and Newcastle. If we had a giant magnifying glass to look as these astounding light pictures I am sure somewhere in that luminous central spot in the North East we would find Crook.

The journey of Christmas began 4 weeks ago here in chapel with Dorothy’s granddad, alias David Dixon, feverishly looking into the night sky, waiting, longing, looking for a sign – had he not taken his tablets we thought, had he not been to spec-savers. Grandad Dixon had been like the watching and waiting sentinels, the sentry guards on lookout high up on Jerusalem’s city walls taken from Isaiah’s reading this morning, straining to see and hear, preparing to receive the good news of this light coming into the world. We too have been on the look-out for God again this year as we shared our Advent journey in Crook Churches Together, wisely led by Robert (Revd Robert Fisher).

And our Advent journey has brought us to today, to this morning’s worship, the birth of Christ who is the luminous centre of Christmas; his light shining like a supernova star in our darkness. We hear the familiar story again that seems to come to us like the light of that star, from far away. Mary and Joseph travelling, a census, a birth in an out-of- the way place, angels bringing good news, rough irreligious shepherds brought in from the pitch darkness of the fields to see and hear things that bring them light and a new vision; wonder and joy and peace for all the world. We see, hear and feel the light of this familiar story but we wonder where the source is. Is it close by or is it far away? Is it light coming at us from a stable 2000 plus years ago or a light of new life that burns intensely among us here and now on this Christmas morning; wonder and joy perhaps emanating in this small town of Crook, wonder and joy in our lives perhaps as we contemplate the great mystery of the Incarnation, for it is indeed a mystery?

Today we in Crook and other small congregations are illuminated by that light of the Christ child born among us 2000 years ago, revealing God to us, in his vulnerability, in his openness, his humility and weakness – just where we are – perhaps to uncertain futures and jobs, to vulnerable and fragile communities around our chapel, to hopes of stable families and circumstances perhaps not yet fulfilled but longed for. The good news of the gospel is that he is with us here in Crook to bring light and love and healing, where love and freedom and healing, reconciliation and peace are needed.

And because of this wonderful story which we celebrate this morning, we have good news to tell and share with the good folk of Crook. Good news in action which has brightened up our community and the world outside Crook. Good news of light shining like the stars because we are bringing in his kingdom...................... 

·         In the innumerable acts of kindness and concern shared together in and amongst our congregation and friends

·         in the sheer goodness of people from Crook Churches Together who have given over 6 tons of foodstuffs to the poor, vulnerable and hungry of our community.  

·         by church members in their passion for justice and a voice for those who are affected by government cuts, with the poorest and most vulnerable most at risk.  

·         in the love at a beautiful wedding here in chapel in May this year, the new Mr and Mrs Dixon 

·         in the hundreds of pounds raised for local and national charities during our August coffee mornings, our fund raising efforts, and the start of the refurbishment of the URC Ministers Training College at Westminster, Cambridge  

·         in our world after a year when a number of natural disasters have swept people off their feet, in the Philippines, and continuing war in Syria and now in the Southern Sudan and other places that we know.  

·         In our pain and suffering, in the darkness and mystery of life, for we know even in the darkness his light is not extinguished 

We each have had lovely experiences this last year where we have seen and known and heard God’s love. The good news we receive today, of Christ come among us, touches our deepest yearnings for light in darkness, for fulfilment of our hopes, for a different kind of world. It is light that is real and alive. 

Like the luminous centre of the earth’s cities lights taken from the international space station the luminous heart of the good news is our relationship with God who comes to be born in us, to bring light to the centre of our lives. Like the shepherds he calls us from inside, from the cold to the warmth of a real relationship with him. His love comes to birth in that stable place of our lives. 

Like Mary we treasure the experiences of light and goodness we see reflected in the lives of those around us as we ponder this beautiful awareness of Christ who comes to be born in us again this Christmas-tide. Like the Shepherds who returned glorifying God for all that they had heard and seen we cannot help becoming ourselves those messengers of light sharing what we see and hear. For the town of Crook is never in darkness because Christ has come to be born in us and it is his light which is the light source at the centre of our lives, the centre of our town, the centre of our world.

And that is:- 

Good news of great joy for all the people

 

Readings: Isaiah 52.7-10; Luke 2.1-20