Creating peace

I want to explore what is the first gift of Easter to the disciples locked in the upper room – the first gift of Easter is peace. That’s what Easter does. It gives peace. We all want it. Today. 

There were two news reports aside from the passing of Pope Francis who I will say a lot about in due course – one was about ongoing talks and statements about ending the war in Ukraine. The BBC correspondent in Kyiv said “there’s a lot of talk about peace, but it doesn’t feel like peace here” as bombs fell on a hospital. Then there was Lisa Smart, the Lib Dems’ home affairs spokesperson, who said” with antisocial behaviour people “ people dread their daily commute” and that “headphone dodgers playing loud music on buses and trains are some of the worst offenders”

“Time and time again, I hear from people who say they feel too intimidated to speak up when someone is blasting music or other content from a phone or speaker.

“That’s why the Liberal Democrats are calling for tough action on those who show complete disregard for others by playing loud music in shared spaces, including fines of up to £1,000.”Also, loud work conversations you only hear one side of are equally annoying aren’t they? 

Then there’s that peace we need after trauma. The little black cat at home, Velvet, had to have some teeth removed at the vets.

We went back for a check up this week. She hates going to the vets and gets in a right old state in the box including drooling at the mouth. What does she do when we get back home? She hides under the bed for several hours to recover! 

I suggest when we do through traumatic times,we need peace for our heads and hearts to come to terms with what we’ve been through. Bereavement, any sort of loss, sudden changes out of our control. Even when we are overwhelmed with too much to do we need to carve time out to just be for a bit. I was at a meeting in Scarborough yesterday. I could have come straight home to finish this sermon. I chose instead to have a little walk along the North Bay. I didn’t speak to anyone. There was peace and where this sermon was to go came into my head. 

Today’s Gospel is set towards the end of the first Easter Day. We discover the disciples are almost hiding under the bed like Velvet. They have locked themselves away in fear, away from death, away from the Jews, away from the unknown because I suggest they can’t cope with anymore. 

Because we know the end of the story it is easy to forget that everything about the disciples’ hopes was dead: their faith and future were all on the brink of collapse. They had lived with Jesus for three years and each time he had talked about dying they had either told him he was wrong – like Peter – or simply not understood.

Why? Because they had pinned all their hopes on him as the one who would change Jewish history, and dead Messiahs do not do that.

As they meet the risen Christ their entire worldview is changed – now the impossible becomes not just possible but actual. What they previously believed about themselves no longer applies either; neither does what they believed about the world around them. Everything is different.

Are you confronted by fear of the present and the future? Do you need something to walk through your fears and remind you that God loves you eternally?

For the disciples that certainty came when Jesus showed them that even the greatest fear - the fear of death - has to bow to the power of God. So today we hear Jesus’ first word to them – and to us – peace, peace with be with you. 

Consider this quote from Pope Francis: “make peace, create peace, be the example of peace, we need peace in the world.” A young lad in Sainsbury’s last week signing people up for a charity helping disabled veterans got talking about religion with us. “Do you believe in the Pope?” he asked. 

Today we believe in the late Pope’s servanthood discipleship. May he know eternal peace after a remarkable radical papacy that has brought authentic Christianity into the public arena again.

Peace be with you. In his Easter address, the day before he died, the Pope in words read out by someone else but written by him said “I would like us to renew our hope that peace is possible.” And he went on to list all the current war zones of the world. Then he said “I appeal to all those in positions of political responsibility in our world not to yield to the logic of fear which only leads to isolation from others, but rather to use the resources available to help the needy, to fight hunger and to encourage initiatives that promote development. These are the “weapons” of peace: weapons that build the future, instead of sowing seeds of death!” And then his last Easter words on paper anyway — “In the Lord’s Paschal Mystery, death and life contended in a stupendous struggle, but the Lord now lives forever. He fills us with the certainty that we too are called to share in the life that knows no end, when the clash of arms and the rumble of death will be heard no more. Let us entrust ourselves to him, for he alone can make all things new.  Happy Easter to everyone!”

In an amazing news conference on Monday afternoon I was half watching, the Archbishop of Westminster that Pope Francis never lost his inner peace. 

He reckoned God called him to eternity after Easter Sunday saying, “job done, home.” Then he and Timothy Radcliffe, who is a Catholic theologian gave reporters half an hour of the theology of resurrection! It was astounding.

In that upper room, Jesus is there among those demoralised and fearful disciples. He comes to them gathered together as they are grieving and processing their trauma together. I imagine they needed another quiet time to think about what had just happened after he left them again.  

I think people need peace more than ever today. We see it here in some conversations we have at coffee morning, we see it here in our bereavement café where people reflect together about loss in community, we see it here at play café as parents and carers share together, we see it here as we come to worship as we are because we might be in our own upper room and we might need Jesus to come to us. It’s interesting that there was a Bible Society report last week which told us that the numbers of those aged 16 to 30 has quadrupled since the last survey in 2018. It says that age group have big questions and yearn for meaning and relationship. What would we do if a lot of younger people joined us? 

The Archbishop of Westminster in that news conference said staff at Westminster Cathedral were compelled to turn away people hoping to attend Mass due to reaching full capacity over the Easter weekend. Westminster Cathedral, which is the mother church of the Catholic Church in England and Wales, and has a capacity of 3,000 people, was unable to let any more people in, and there were long queues to get into the next service available. It’s interesting that one of my churches last Sunday had the largest number there I’ve ever had. It’s interesting all our churches have people who’ve started coming, not every week, but from outside they’ve begun to engage. Perhaps they want peace as much as those disciples did. 

There is a part two to this Easter episode John records. Jesus doesn’t just give them peace, he commissions them. “ As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” 

And he gently breathes on them giving them the Holy Spirit. They, and we, are sent to be channels of peace, sharing peace wherever we go. So here’s a lovely story about Pope Francis:

During the conclave that would eventually elect him, he offered a short reflection upon the familiar image of Jesus standing and knocking at the door.  The traditional reading, he noted, is that Jesus is knocking to be admitted, to come into our hearts, to enter our lives. 

But what, he said, if Jesus is knocking  come out instead, to join him in the world outside?  (There’s another story that it was this little reflection that caused one of the other cardinals immediately to lean over to his neighbour and declare this is the man that the church needed as its new pope.) Jesus' insistent knocking not to come in but for us to come out into the world.The bearing of the Gospel of peace is our privilege and our call. Every day. 

There are people like Pope Francis and many others in the church’s story who dared to unlock the door and step out when they heard Jesus say to them, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” We need to unlock the door and go out into the world with the peace of Christ, so that all may believe and have eternal life.

Let Francis have the last word:

May 2025 be a year in which peace flourishes! A true and lasting peace that goes beyond quibbling over the details of agreements and human compromises. May we seek the true peace that is granted by God to hearts disarmed: hearts not set on calculating what is mine and what is yours; hearts that turn selfishness into readiness to reach out to others; hearts that see themselves as indebted to God and thus prepared to forgive the debts that oppress others; hearts that replace anxiety about the future with the hope that every individual can be a resource for the building of a better world.”

Not only do we need to see the resurrected Christ, but we also need to realise that the world is looking to us to see him. How are we showing resurrection to a desperate world? How are we offering shalom instead of fear? Jesus sends us out, just as surely as he sent those cowering disciples. Peace be with you – now go and share peace, everywhere. 

“Make peace, create peace, be the example of peace, we need peace in the world.” 

 

Good Friday - the cross stands while the world turns

Good Friday 2025… 

People say to me “I bet Christmas is your busiest time!” Actually it isn’t. The most draining week of the year is Holy Week if you do it properly. It’s also the biggest privilege in ministry I think to lead people to what is the heart of Christianity - the sacrificial love of Jesus on the cross and the defeat of death as he bursts out of a tomb and brings life and hope to the world. 

This week so far I’ve done a walk of witness and two services on Palm Sunday, led a reflection and compline on Monday, received reflections and compline in the cathedral on Tuesday and Wednesday, I’ve led a nursing home service and a Holy Habits study on Wednesday and on Thursday I led a funeral and an evening communion.

So we come to Good Friday. I began today with two services at 9.30 and 10.30. The first was a peaceful service shared by seven of us, the second was a larger service where we reflected on three crucifixes - Dali’s Christ of St John of the Cross, the crucified Christ over Manchester in the cathedral there and a crucifix that was found in France on a battlefield in World War One and brought back to Tinwell in Rutland by an army chaplain who later became vicar there. In 2019 it was returned to the site of the battlefield where a village has been rebuilt. 

Then to the market ground where a cross is always erected today and Churches Together have a service. I led the service and preached on the cross stands while the world turns… despite a dodgy microphone and my voice going mid sermon I think it was okay. Here’s my thoughts: the pictures are from the top of the wheel taken by a member of Fountains Church after the wheel operator said someone wanting to take photos could have a free ride!  

We stand today before a cross and by a wheel.

Have you been on the wheel yet? I’ve not – although it was suggested I preach from one of the pods at the top. As you go round slowly there are things to see you can’t normally see. 

Maybe this Good Friday the world is going round and round directionless. Ongoing conflict in Gaza and in Ukraine, trade wars and tariffs, shootings again in America, people struggling to cope with their circumstances. In a spin. The world goes round so fast we just want to get off it and find some peace. 

There’s a religious order called the Carthusians, and they have a motto which in Latin is “Stat crux dum volvitur orbis,’ ‘The cross stands while the world turns’

Yes, the cross stands, unmovable, strong, solid, firmly grounded like a peg that holds the tent from being blown away by the wind or an anchor that keeps the ship from going adrift. 

Everyone understands the need for stability, even in a world that promotes rapid change. If nothing remains constant in the midst of change, everything descends into chaos. The cross is like a single coordinate point in the map of life, while other things are moving, shifting and changing, this point remains fixed, providing us with the needed reference point to guide our orientation and chart our direction. The cross stands erect, unshaken even in the midst of the tumultuous storms of life and the crisis which trails every moment of transition and change.

Rather than seeing the cross as an object to be feared or to be avoided at all cost, the cross is perhaps the most consoling symbol of our Christian faith. Of course, the cross alone provides us with little to no consolation. In fact, it should invoke horror and derision. But because of what our Lord did today, Good Friday, we will never be able to look at the cross in the same way again. We are asked to behold not an empty cross for a while. Our gaze and attention is drawn today to the One who hangs on the cross, the One who is the “Salvation of the World”! Christ is our Rock, Christ is our Anchor, Christ is the axis of the World, He stands steady and unmoving even as the world revolves and turns.

We have an anchor that holds us firm and solid through any storm. It doesn’t mean that the storm will pass quickly, or that we won’t suffer from it. What it means is that we have a firm and sure foundation, and the One to whom we hold tight has gone before us and prepares a place for those who trust in Him. We know that though the wind is raging all around and even though the waves may rise to the point of sinking our ship, there’s a place of stillness in the storm. And you can find it in the One who hangs from the cross. Yes, the cross stands steady, while the world spins and shifts and revolves.

On the cross, it appeared that God had been vanquished. As ever so often, humanity and goodness appeared to have been crushed. Our Lord was killed, and yet the cross endures. It stands because it is sustained by what does not change.

There is a second part to the Carthusian motto which is often omitted in popular quotes and lengthy discussions, “et mundo inconcussa supersto”, which translates “and steadfast/unshaken I stand on top of the world”. So, here’s the full saying:  The cross stands while the world turns steadfast/unshaken I stand on top of the world.

There’s something to shout loud in a pod on top of the wheel. Maybe I should have shared these words up there after all. 

Let us hold firmly to the cross, the only thing which stands steady in a changing world, in the midst of chaos, death and destruction, and we can proudly declare with our Lord, “steadfast unshaken I stand on top of the world.”

The cross is definitive and irreversible ‘no’ of God to violence, injustice, hate, lies – to all that we call ‘evil,’ and at the same it is equally the irreversible ‘yes’ to love, truth, and goodness.

Friends, if you are going round and round today and life is in a spin for you, the cross stands. God can't be abolished. Justice will come. The light cannot be extinguished. The voice of the voiceless will be heard. The suffering ones will be healed. 

God gave the world Jesus, His only Son, so that the world might be saved through Him. As our world turns look to Jesus , He is with us in the midst of all that the world brings our way.Alleluia! 

Lord, by your cross and resurrection,
  you have set us free.
You are the Saviour of the world.

After three services it was good to receive in the cathedral. I always find the Good Friday liturgy very moving (although I may have gone to sleep through some of it!) The procession to the cross one by one while the choir sing the reproaches is very powerful and at the end we all follow the cross down into the crypt of St Wilfrid, the oldest part of any cathedral in the country.

I’ve had people tell me they can’t do Good Friday because it’s too awful. But Jesus has to rise from something and Easter only comes out of suffering and darkness and today it’s been right we’ve stopped to think about the inhumanity of the world, those we crucify today, the love that is stronger than hate and evil and that Jesus gets the darkness and death…  

Easter will come… God will do it. But it also needs me to write it tonight so I can have Saturday off! I’ve four services, three of them can be the same!! 

 

Palm Sunday - which parade will I join?

Psalm 118 is one of the Psalms for Palm Sunday. It’s a psalm that Jesus would have been familiar with as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. Those who were watching really hoped that Jesus was their salvation and liberation.

On the other side of the city, Pontius Pilate was entering Jerusalem, coming in from the coast with 600 foot-soldiers, horses, armour, banners and flags and standards bearing great carved golden eagles, the symbol of Roman authority, and beating drums.

Jerusalem during Passover would have been teeming with Jewish pilgrims and then a hotbed of tension. An estimated extra 20,000 people. Rome wanted Israel to be in no doubt about who was in charge. Can you imagine it? The cheers would have been eerily similar to the ones we think of when we remember Palm Sunday. After all, Caesar was Rome's prince of Peace.Caesar was Rome's son of God, and Pontius Pilate was his representative. And then came Jesus down the Mount of Olives on a donkey, on an agricultural tool, not a war machine. The imagery couldn't have been clearer. I am for peace.

The triumphal entry the other side of the city was a send-up, a parody of Pilate's grand procession, a mockery of it. And it wasn't an accident, either. It was a staged demonstration.

So today we follow in a long line of holy protests; Jesus's disciples claim that real power and authority sat with peace.

"So what?", some might say, "So what, if there were two parades? What does that matter?" Well, I think it matters because there are always two parades, aren't there? Think about the world today. 

We have to decide which one we will join. When we choose to forgive or not, we choose a certain path. When we choose what we will do with our money, our energy, our love, we walk a certain way. What does Holy Week mean to you? Which biblical character in the story do you identify with?

Jesus is hailed by the crowds today, and we throng along with them, waving our palms with bright, self-congratulatory allegiance to our matchless king.

And then we have a choice. Many of us will go home and not darken the door of spiritual encounter until Easter Day. But that is a mistake.

Psalm 31, another Psalm we can read today says: “I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind.” In some ways, this may be Jesus’ greatest fear. He has spent three years on Earth teaching, healing, leading people to God, to liberation, to new life. Today, on Palm Sunday, we all shout out his name with Hosannas.

But he knows that the time is fast approaching when we all will desert him, right along with the rest of the disciples. We will want to forget him, by that point. It’s too great of a trauma to see our teacher and friend arrested as a criminal and subjected to torture at the hands of a cruel and distant state.

“I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind,” the psalm says. That is exactly what the chief priests and scribes want.

We read in the Gospel of Mark, “The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him, for they said, ‘Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.’”

They don’t want people holding on to their allegiance to Jesus. It’s too dangerous. The Romans are already losing patience with the Jews and their ongoing parade of political Messiahs who cause disturbance and unrest. And Rome solves its problems with violence. The chief priests and scribes know that everyone will be better off, safer if Jesus is simply forgotten.

And that’s the question we’re being asked today. Will we forget Jesus? Will we abandon him? Will the empire of noise and news, of wealth and power, claim our uninterrupted attention for the next seven days, and will we have an Easter where we say he has risen but we haven’t really understood what the power of God has beaten…? 

How do we mark Holy Week? I’ve thirteen services from the morning of Palm Sunday to the evening of Easter Day. I’m not expecting people to be at them all, but… I hope we do the bit in the middle somehow between palm waving and alleluias… a sermon I read says this:

“I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind; I am as useless as a broken pot. For I have heard the whispering of the crowd; fear is all around; they put their heads together against me; they plot to take my life.” This is where Jesus is at the end of the day on Palm Sunday. The task that lies before him is overwhelming, and he knows that one by one, everyone will abandon him until he is all alone.

But the amazing thing is that we still have a chance. We still have a choice. We can stop everything right now and decide that we will be loyal to Jesus to the best of our ability, every day of this week that changed the world.

It may be through coming to worship. It may be through extra time in prayer and meditation every day of Holy Week. It may be through serving others who are in need, or reading the entirety of one of the gospels, or finishing our Lenten intention with special dedication and love. It doesn’t matter what we do to follow Jesus to the Cross. It just matters that we do something.

“I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind.” Our task this week is to prove that bit of scripture false, to make it wrong.”

Who do we serve? The one for whom we make way. And what do we call out? The crowd today are shouting:

‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’

‘Hosanna in the highest heaven!’

They are hailing a Saviour. Hosanna is not a cheer, it’s a plea for help, for someone to save us.

‘Save us. In God’s name, save us!’

What do we cry ‘hosanna’ over? What is our declaration? The question is, ‘who am I for this week?’ No change, not getting involved, you can’t mention politics in church, avoiding the week ahead and coming back for Easter or really being Jesus’ people dying and rising with him?

Bonhoeffer: 80 years on

If you were to ask me who my spiritual hero might be I’d have to say Dietrich Bonhoeffer. 

Today marks eighty years since Dietrich Bonhoeffer was executed by the Nazis for standing against antisemitism. He was only thirty nine years old. From his prison cell, just months before his death, he wrote:

“The essence of optimism is that it takes no account of the present, but it is a source of inspiration, of vitality and hope where others have resigned... It enables a man to hold his head high, to claim the future for himself and not to abandon it to his enemy.”“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak.Not to act is to act.”

These are the words of a man who had witnessed the horrors of antisemitism, dictatorship, and war — and still chose hope. 

Let’s think about Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his 'theory of stupidity'.

‘Evil’ according to Bonhoeffer can be confronted. It can be exposed, fought and ultimately even defeated. There is always a way to resist evil because at its core evil fundamentally knows what it is - even the worst people deep down recognise that what they are doing is deeply wrong. This is why evil carries within itself the seed of its own destruction. It leaves behind a sense of unease, a lingering guilt that can be exploited and overturned. 

But stupidity? stupidity is immune. Utterly immune to logic, blind to all reason and stone deaf to truth. It does not engage it simply refuses to see. You can always argue with a malicious person - but you cannot argue with a stupid one because they do not recognise facts - they dismiss them. They do not debate they mock - and most dangerous of all they are utterly convinced of their own correctness. We must understand that stupidity does not ever question itself - it does not feel doubt or shame  -it moves forward with absolute confidence and in doing so it becomes an unstoppable force in service of whatever it has chosen to follow. 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer saw this first hand - he watched as it turned into a nation of cowards and criminals. He saw ordinary people, many of them intelligent and highly educated, surrender their ability to think and instead blindly, almost impossibly, follow the Nazi regime. This is why Bonhoeffer argued that stupidity is not an intellectual defect but a moral one - a person can be brilliant in thought yet utterly foolish in action. 

‘Stupidity’, as Bonhoeffer saw it, is not a lack of intelligence at all - it is a failure of moral courage. No one is born stupid, they become stupefied. 

‘Social Stupidity’ thrives in groups where independent thought is discouraged - where people simply follow orders, conform and submit to prevailing narratives without question. Dietrich Bonhoeffer observed how the Nazi regime turned ordinary people into unthinking followers - they were not inherently evil - nor were they necessarily unintelligent - but they stopped questioning. They let go of their ability to discern truth from falsehood and they became tools of a greater agenda. ‘Social Stupidity’ spreads under the influence of authoritarians. Whether political or ideological many people willingly relinquish their inner independence - they accept the slogans, the propaganda, the oversimplified explanations and they no longer see the world for what it is and this is where stupidity becomes most dangerous.

You are not dealing with a person you are dealing with slogans and catchphrases that have taken possession of them. This is why Dietrich Bonhoeffer argued that stupidity is harder to combat than evil. A stupid person will repeat lies even after they have been disproven. They will cling to falsehoods because they are no longer thinking for themselves - and this is precisely why a stupid person cannot simply be instructed or argued out of their stupidity. They must be liberated. 

This was Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s ‘theory of stupidity’ - a warning to all of us that the world today is filled with disinformation, herd mentalities and blind loyalty to dangerous political figures and their dim ideologies. Bad narratives that discourage critical thought. 

Bonhoeffer’s life reminds us that optimism is not a denial of pain — it is a refusal to surrender to it. It is the courage to believe in a better world and to fight for it, even when the odds are crushing.

Remember what he said as we approach Holy Week: “when Christ bids a man, he bids him come and die.” 

Have we lost that call on us? He talked of cheap grace and costly grace. I’m writing this today in Manchester and have just attended a service in the cathedral. Before the entrance is a plaque remembering another of my heroes, William Temple. He campaigned for social justice and he once said that the Church is the only organisation that exists for the benefit of its non members. Bonhoeffer said similarly “ the Church is the Church only when it exists for others...not dominating, but helping and serving. It must tell men of every calling what it means to live for Christ, to exist for others.” 

Bonhoeffer's legacy calls us not to ignore stuff or give up, but to resist. Not to despair, but to hope and act. Where we can. My blog has a title “Not Before.” He said this: “ There are people who regard it as frivilous, and some Christians think it impious, for anyone to hope and prepare for a better earthly future. They think that the meaning of present events is chaos, disorder, and catastrophe, and in resignation or pious escapism, they surrender all responsibility for reconstruction and for future generations. It may be that the day of judgment will dawn tomorrow; in that case, we shall gladly stop working for a better future. But not before."

It was interesting tonight that the Dean of Manchester preached on the fiery furnace and a king wanted people to bow down to him. He mentioned the man who at the moment would have all nations do the same. Very brave to say it but necessary. 

On this anniversary, may Bonhoeffer’s voice echo through history — and may we never abandon the future to those who would do harm or became stupid. 

Here’s the collect for his day today: 

Embolden our lives, O Lord, and inspire our faiths, that we, following the example of your servant Dietrich Bonhoeffer, might embrace your call with undivided hearts; through Jesus Christ our Saviour, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Two kinds of church

I was very glad that I was invited to join the Methodist Cities Network some time ago by Ian, the presbyter at Central Hall in Manchester. I guess I’m entitled to join as Ripon is a city. Today we met at the vast listed building which is Central Methodist Church in York and we heard stories of work out of that church in the city, refugee and homeless ministry, making the building greener, a bread church where people come as they are. Rachel Lampard was also with us as Methodism continues to grapple with the call to be a justice seeking Church. 

Before lunch we went on a prayer walk round the city centre remembering women of faith. That was very powerful. And over and over in presentations we heard of our work to be with people not do things for them or to them. The closing devotions led by Graham Jones from the Learning Network summed things up brilliantly. He reminded us that Sam Wells, vicar at St Martin in the Fields off Trafalgar Square says the most important word in the Bible is “with.” God is with us and therefore to live in the light of God is to be with people. People, as Wesley would have put it, who need us most. He then reminded us of Harry Williams who called the Church “agents of resurrection.” In which case, the Church may need to be disturbed and unsettled. Remember God is into rolling stones away and miracles beyond our comprehension. 

I came away inspired and with new friends. I reflected on my own ministry at the moment. The excitement is where we are in partnership with other bodies, where we meet people where they are, and where churches see they can’t do it all and work together either in a circuit or ecumenically to share resurrection hope with people. Simple isn’t it? 

Some of us get it but alas some do not!! 

I went to evening prayer in York Minster. Whilst our District Office is in York, I don’t get into the city centre very often so it was good to have a few hours in the sun dodging tourists with their cameras! Predictive text just wrote dodging Tories before I corrected it. Mind you the last meeting of the Network did a brainstorm on justice seeking and decided Methodists should be banned from reading the Daily Mail, according to a PowerPoint slide put up today! 

The Minster charges big money to get in but you can get in for free for services. But when you get in they watch you. “No photography!” says the sign and then a officious little man herded us into the pews like cattle and then he said to a group of us, “the Psalm is in the blue book but it is in old English so you won’t understand it!” The two clergy rattled through the liturgy like they’d left their dinner in the oven and it might burn and there was little atmosphere. 

So I came away thinking well, what is Church? Remember Archbishop Temple said “the Church is the only organisation that exists for the benefit of its non members.” Are we only going to exist if we meet people where they are and not expect them to magically come to some alien thing we really don’t want them at anyway? My city’s cathedral isn’t guilty of this. Evensong isn’t rushed and you don’t go away feeling you weren’t really welcome but there are bits of the Church that really don’t get where people are. Are we a movement or a museum? 

Today I’ve had two types of Church around me. I know which I find more attractive and inspiring. On my way home I was catching up with DJ Spoony on Radio 2. His programme at 10pm in the week is uplifting and optimistic. He played a classic by UB40 which was written about racial prejudice and apartheid in South Africa but tonight as I listened to the lyrics it could be about the future of the Church and God’s story:

We will no longer hear your command

We will seize the control from your hand

We will fan the flame of our anger and pain

And you’ll feel the shame for what you do in God’s name.

We will fight for the right to be free

And we will build our own society

And we will sing, we will sing our own song. 

People expect the Church to do something today to be credible. We have to be seen, to be with, to sing our own song, to be there for those we meet. I did some shopping in a large Tesco Extra off the York by pass earlier. I was dressed for work. A lady told me her taxi hadn’t come, almost asking me what was I doing to do about it! It was five minutes late. She was panicking. I did suggest it might come and later I saw her getting in it. The point is she wanted help! 

We need urgently to be a people who see a different thing happening that there is hope in a despairing world. I write tonight as Donald Trump gives his make America wealthy again tariffs speech. It’s scary. And it feels like history repeating. If he says his friends have been the problem we have trouble. So maybe agents of resurrection need to be an irritant and a presence to say what is cannot be. Where the Church has no intention to be incarnate, we have to question its future.

Don’t we??