Hello Everyone,

LAST OF LENT COURSE

You were invited to share with Christine and I and follow “Lenten Reflections on thirteen Lesser reported followers of Jesus” We chose Seven out of the Thirteen to follow leaving six. So today we would like finish with the stories of just two of the six of Rosemary Powers insights of those who were in the background of the Passion of Jesus.                     www. Ionabook.com

Mary of Magdala & Joseph of Arimathea appear as witnesses in all four Gospels  In Joseph’s case it was  because he  gained Jesus’ body from Pilate and buried it. He comes in at the end with this public gesture, in John’s Gospel accompanied by Nicodemus with their spices. Legends grew around Joseph of Arimathea, including the story of the Glastonbury Thorn, planted by him in England.

Joseph of Arimathea like Caiaphas had followed the impact of Jesus’ teaching, His healing, and His insistence that some things were the fulfilment of the law, not the opposite. He belonged to the Council, the Sanhedrin, that Caiaphas headed. He was a Pharisee who believed in the Resurrection, which Caiaphas and the majority as Sadducees did not. What was it in Jesus’ preaching on love in this life, and a heart for the core of the Law, delight in life, fullness for all, that made one eager to have Jesus removed, yet this Joseph was a follower, though a fearful, secret one until the end? Was it Jesus’ gift of telling stories with laughter and depth and warnings to the wealthy, his being an outsider who had learnt his skills by another path, his spiritual depth?   Joseph of Arimathea was a wise man who was a quiet convert who demonstrated his love of Jesus, respect towards the disciples and all followers of Jesus.

So we now we hear the story from the lips of Mary of Magdala.  ‘He came to my lakeside town and looked at me. Me, the turbulent, unmanageable, frustrated one, felt all the acceptance I’d never met till then. At last my gifts had a place, and my faith was not in vain. I followed him on the road. Me, the clever, emotional one, with Joanna to make us prudent, Susanna to remind us of stories, and Salome to keep us respectable. Seven demons released from me as I was given my right to my gifts! He knew the years of suppression, the infantile roles with no place for my soul. And he released me. There were others with other gifts, better gifts. I heard of the Gentile woman who mouthed him, laughed with him, got what she wanted from him; the woman who had to draw water at midday, who argued with him; and little Mary from Bethany who saw further than any of us, all the way to the cross.

‘Be a good Jew,’ he told me, ‘use your gifts to the utmost. God gave women gifts as good as men’s. Take yours and use them, fill the world with love and witness. You’ll be crucified too. They’ll take your name from you, mock you and make you small in the eyes of the world. You’ll be rolled into one with prostitutes and madwomen. But not in my eyes.’   He said: ‘Come follow me.’ ‘I was there with him, as close as we could get, as he rolled in torment, hearing him when he could speak, seeing how he gave, even at the end. I saw him die. I heard the officer take heed of his goodness. I saw other hanged men dispatched from their misery at last, to keep the Sabbath pure. Then we buried him. Hastily but decently, honouring the body of the best of Jews, who hung accursed on a tree and to us was the heart of love, and our hope and light. All extinguished.

We asked why God had let this be done. And how do we live out his teaching when this was done to him by his world? Have we courage enough for the cold years ahead? Among such a mix of

people with conflicting claims and threnodies? (threnody is a wailing ode, song, hymn or poem ) We were the witnesses. When two or three are gathered in my name. But what had we witnessed? How the bravest can die well? We kept and wept the Sabbath, the coldest Sabbath, recalling all he had taught of acceptance, freedom, welcome into the heart of the Creator. We were left clinging to bare, chilly faith of the mind alone where the spirit lay buried in the tomb. Love casts out fear, we knew. Those days had not prepared us for hope. We went in the dark to evade danger where we could.  Like him, we stepped aside where needful. The tomb lay open, robbed.

We were dismayed, afraid of the new message. Then coming to meet us, where we were, stretching our hearts, came the story. ‘Do not be afraid. Peace I give you, my peace I bequeath you. Go, tell the others. Share the good news. I will be with you wherever you go, till the end of time.’

‘I was there, the leader, my demons dissolved in the sunrise. His choice of witness and apostle to the Twelve. The story we told was no cold faith. It went to soldiers, slaves, and struggling folk, in the courts of the rich and them at  home  comfortable. We talked of hope, of people power that can change the world, and how Spirit-filled in common life we could confront all trials.  As silently, as certainly as Jesus.’

We give thanks …

For the risen Christ, casting out all fear, bringing new life on the first day of the week. For the gifts that God has given, to people of every creed and colour and people and nation, to male and female, rich and poor. For those who have the courage of leadership throughout the world, who seek to make it a place where all can exercise the fullness of their humanity.

We pray …

For those whose lives are limited by the actions of others, who are held in the grip of poverty, debt, illness, and the contempt of others. For those who grieve, for their loved ones who have died, for the loss of fullness in their own lives. For those who have given up, through addiction, overwork, bitterness, that they may hear rumours of hope and find it blossom in their lives. For the sadness of our world, with wars and rumours of war, for the tomb of the hidden wars and its scars globally physically, mentally and spiritually. Be among all who seek to move to find freedom and fullness. That Easter may come in our lives and the life of our common world.

Time for own prayers ———Lord’s Prayer

KEEP SAFE ….KEEP PRAYING……Peter

Hello Everyone

A prayer for the time after Easter.

Written by Roddy Cowie Member of Iona Community.

A prayer worthy of our attention throughout Eastertide in

preparation for Pentecost when Hope bursts forth in Freedom.

Lord of the Upper Room

Lord Jesus, today we remember that you came to the disciples when they were hiding in the upper room, afraid to face the world.

We pray for those who lock themselves away, afraid to face the world:

We pray for those who lock themselves away because they have been hurt.

We pray for those who lock themselves away because they feel weak or useless.

We pray for those who lock themselves away because they are different.

We pray for those who lock themselves away because they have dangerous enemies.

We pray for those who lock themselves away because they have done wrong and cannot bear to face the consequences.

We pray for those who lock themselves away because they have lost someone they love and see no way to face the world without them.

We pray for those who lock themselves away because they have lost hope.

We pray for those we know who are afraid to face the world, and for the millions we do not know who feel the same way, and if we know that we are locked away ourselves then we pray for ourselves too …

And we pray for those who have no choice but to face pain and hardship – the sick, the poor and those in trouble …

Lord of the upper room, be present in the minds of those who need your presence – be their light, their friend, their defender and their hope.

We ask it in your name.   Amen

KEEP SAFE ….KEEP PRAYING……Peter

You may want to look at some of the links detailed below.

Dear All,

Following the sad news of the death of His Royal Highness, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh,  I felt it would be helpful to share a range of relevant resources for churches and parishes which are listed below:

A reflection on his life by Bishop of Leeds, the Rt Revd Nick Baines, which includes a link to a short video, may be read here

A reflection by the Archbishop of Canterbury, may be read here

A reflection by the Archbishop of York, may be read here

A Church of England online book of condolence, prayers and liturgical resources may be found here

Best wishes,

Jonathan

Hello Everyone

Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Halleluiah!

A Message to you all This Easter Monday

The mark of the cross

Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple

and that God’s spirit lives in you?

1 Corinthians 3:16 (New International Version)

Extract from Facing the Storm, by Eddie Askew first published 1989.

Behind the carved oak pulpit in the old church, I noticed a mark on the worn wall. At first glance, I thought it was just a random roughness, a shadow on the stone. Then I realised it was the outline of a cross. It must have hung there for years and, when taken down, it left the mark on the wall.

As individual Christians we leave a mark. Most of us lead unremarkable lives.

Actually, I’m not so sure of that. When you get to know people, you find few who are ‘ordinary’. No one is exactly like another. Each is remarkable in individual experience. Each of us has something of value to give. But we lead unspectacular lives, rarely producing headlines in the newspapers. Yet our presence in the world, our faithful performance of the little acts of daily living, makes its mark.

There are times when we feel useless. We can’t stop the steamroller of world events without getting flattened. No-one listens to the thin sound of our protest. But ‘your living shall not be in vain’, as the song puts it. We make our mark and, however small it is, it’s our mark, and the world will never be quite the same again.

God grant the mark we leave is the mark of the cross. I may not see its cosmic breadth, or deep significance – sounds pompous anyway – but in the faithful living out and quiet affirmation of this day’s duty, lies worth, and joy.

And on some wall a mark is made. A mark of love, shaped like a cross.

Hope you are having a Very Happy and Peaceful Easter.

Peter

Hello everyone

HOLY WEEK REFLECTIONS

WEEK 7

We have taken time for reflecting on the lives of some of the characters who were touched by Jesus. We have given thought to what it meant to them as they journeyed with Him close or on the fringe. Palm Sunday Celebration now

behind us, we move into Monday of Holy Week. We hear from Mary Magdala who was set free from Demons. Mary Magdala with the other Marys and the many other women were the ones who were  at the foot of the cross and were there at the burial of Jesus.

Opening Prayer

Almighty Father, who sent your only Son Jesus Christ to save us from our sin, show me how I can honour you and bring glory to your name, by walking in the way of Jesus. Give me grace and mercy as I try and fail, guidance when I’m not sure which way to go, and wisdom to trust you in all things. For your love brings light and life to all who seek it. May I seek you evermore as I walk with you through this Holy Week and beyond. Amen.

Mary of Magdala

He came to my lakeside town and looked at me. I, the turbulent, unmanageable, frustrated one, felt all the acceptance I’d never met till then. At last, my gifts had a place, and my faith was not in vain. I followed him on the road. Me the clever, emotional one, with Joanna to make us prudent, Susanna to remind us of stories, and Salome to keep us respectable. Seven demons were released as I was given my right to my gifts! He knew the years of suppression, the infantile roles with no place for my soul. And he released me. There were others with other gifts, better gifts. I heard of the Gentile woman who mouthed him, laughed with him, got what she wanted from him; the woman who had to draw water at midday, who argued with him; and little Mary from Bethany who saw further than any of us, all the way to the cross.

‘Be a good Jew,’ he told me, ‘use your gifts to the utmost. God gave women gifts as good as men’s. Take yours and use them, fill the world with love and witness. You’ll be crucified too. They’ll take your name from you, mock you and make you small in the eyes of the world. You’ll be rolled into one with prostitutes and madwomen. But not in my eyes,’ he said: ‘Come follow me.’

I was there with him, as close as we could get, as he rolled in torment, hearing him when he could speak, seeing how he gave, even at the end. I saw him die. I heard the officer take heed of his goodness. I saw other hanged men dispatched from their misery at last, to keep the Sabbath pure.

Then we buried him. Hastily but decently, honouring the body of the best of Jews, who hung accursed on a tree and to us was the heart of love, and our hope and light. All extinguished. We asked why God had let this be done. And how do we live out his teaching when this was done to him by his world? Have we courage enough for the cold years ahead? Among such a mix of people with conflicting claims.

We were the witnesses. When two or three are gathered in my name. But what had we witnessed? How the bravest can die well? We kept and wept the Sabbath, the coldest Sabbath, recalling all he had taught of acceptance, freedom, welcome into the heart of the Creator. We were left clinging to bare, chilly faith of the mind alone where the spirit lay buried in the tomb.

Love casts out fear, we knew. Those days had not prepared us for hope. We went in the dark to evade danger where we could. Like him, we stepped aside where needful. The tomb lay open, robbed. We were dismayed, afraid of the new message. Then coming to meet us, where we were, stretching our hearts, came the story. ‘Do not be afraid. Peace I give you, my peace I bequeath you. Go, tell the others. Share the good news. I will be with you wherever you go, till the end of time.’

I was there, the leader, my demons dissolved in the sunrise. His choice of witness and apostle to the Twelve. The story we told was no cold faith. It went to soldiers, slaves and struggling folk, in the courts of the rich and the home of the comfortable. We talked of hope, of people-power that can change the world, and how Spirit-filled in common life we could confront all trials. As silently, as certainly as Jesus.

We give thanks …

For the risen Christ, casting out all fear, bringing new life on the first day of the week.

For the gifts that God has given, to people of every creed and colour and people and nation, to male and female, rich and poor.

For those who have the courage of leadership throughout the world, who seek to make it a place where all can exercise the fullness of their humanity.

We pray …

For those whose lives are limited by the actions of others, who are held in the grip of poverty, debt, illness, and the contempt of others.

For those who grieve, for their loved ones who have died, for the loss of fullness  in their own lives.

For those who have given up, through addiction, overwork, or bitterness, that they may hear rumours of hope and find it blossom in their lives.

For the sadness of our world, with wars and rumours of war, for the tomb of the hidden wars and its scars, in Central Africa; among the refugees from Myanmar abandoned on the open sea; among all who seek to move to find

freedom and fullness.

That Easter may come in our lives and the life of our common world.

Our own prayers …….. Lord’s Prayer ……

KEEP SAFE ….KEEP PRAYING……

A HAPPY AND PEACEFUL EASTER DAY TO YOU !

Peter

7.00am at St James’ 

Holy Week Reflections

Daily reflections for Holy Week starting on Monday 29th March written by Rev Canon Susanna Gunner 

A painting, a short reflection and prayer are offered to make connections between aspects of our Holy Week and Easter Week journey and lockdown . 

Hello everyone

Please join in the attached prayer throughout this week and on the day for the:-

National Day of Reflection on 23rd March

God of love,

as we think about all that has changed this year,

Help us to trust that you are always with us.

As we remember those who have died,

Help us to trust they are at peace with you.

As we reach out to others with kindness and care,

May hope shine out in every heart and home.

Amen

This week we are coming to the end of the weeks of Lent. Each of those weeks we have focused our attention on one of the lesser reported characters who followed Jesus during His ministry. Rosemary Powers chose thirteen Figures leaving us with six stories untold as we journeyed through Lent.  Rosemary’s style of writing has brought life to those she chose to pick out for attention.

I found it difficult to know who to choose for our Reflection. All the stories carry their own weight in the bigger picture of the Passion of our Lord. It feels incomplete leaving these stories untold.

I made my choice after reading through all the reflections trying to balance the stories, we have used so far.

This Week we hear from the sixth Character Mary of Bethany. The following Monday is the start of Holy Week when we hear from Mary of Magdala.   Both Marys remained at the cross to the bitter end.

LENTEN REFLECTIONS —WEEK 6

Mary of Bethany

Mary of Bethany

I am Mary from Bethany, disciple of Jesus, widow, sister of Martha. He came to our home, where I learnt, and he loved us as his sisters, and Lazarus as a brother.  Lazarus, our protector in the world of the village and beyond, got ill. He died. Our grief was deep. Our livelihood, the home of hospitality that my sister Martha had made a place of warmth and greeting, was at risk. She, whose heart was big, big enough even to accept in Jesus his wish that I should be taught with the men, she was in danger of being homeless, of having nowhere to exercise her gift, her insight into the needs of all. We might end with nothing but the widow’s mite, at the mercy of distant relatives with their own burdens.

It was a big funeral, close to the centre of power. Jesus’ fate was sealed when love triumphed. He’d come late. I was angry with him. Martha went to meet him. He spoke with her, then asked for me, his disciple who had sat at his feet and listened but had not yet understood. I was full of grief, bewilderment, but I went to him as ever, to sit at his feet, still his disciple in my pain. This time there were witnesses, not only his friends, but others, fellow-mourners, who followed me when I went, to support me at the tomb. And stayed when they found Jesus before us. Jesus who wept with us. He came to the tomb with us. Then he prayed. Martha was practical as ever, but we waited. And wondered. And heard the stirrings of hope and unbound the impossible joy.

I’d heard of what happened in the house of the Pharisee, and when our own Simon gave a party, I copied the woman there, and made it my own. As he took it like a tune and made it his own in turn. I touched the beloved, anointed him, as the week before we had readied our brother for the tomb. No touch was unclean to him. The scent filled the air. My tears were for him, for the thunder was in the air.

We found that time, that opposition was there, even among his friends at the party. ‘Let her alone,’ he said. I, the younger sister, was honoured there, prophet and priest of the Christ who knew no boundaries among those called into being out of love.

We were all in danger, so close to the places of power. The one he called back from the grave we hid away so he would not be killed. They got Jesus though. A few days later he honoured the woman without name. He washed his own followers’ feet. There was no role he would not take. Later that night, he was turned in.

We give thanks …

For those whose mourning has turned into joy, for the return of the lost, for love recognised.

For the joy of company among outcast, traveller, resident and wanderer, and for the gift of hospitality at the heart of our faith.

For the gift of wonder, of companionship with the God who has given us everything, who came into the world and allowed the people he created to show him the next step.

We pray …

For those who grieve, and especially when death strikes before its time. For those who see the pain of others and cannot help, that they may have the grace of being present, and setting their needs and fears aside.

For those who risk loss in the face of hostility. For those whose homes, livelihoods and safety is at stake.

For the courage to be disciples, learning and listening from Jesus and acting prophetically, in the right time and place; to be courageous in Christ when we meet opposition.

We pray for the gift to draw back from using power against those who are vulnerable in our world.

Our own prayers …….. Lord’s Prayer ……

KEEP SAFE ….KEEP PRAYING……

Peter

Think Yellow!

On Tuesday 23rd March it’s the National Day of Reflection. One year since the first lockdown began.

We are putting yellow streamers at St James’ and at 8.00pm come and see St Bartholomew’s turn yellow. It’s the moment of evening reflection.

At 12.00 noon Rev John will be marking a minute’s silence outside the door of St Bartholomew’s.

Hello Everyone

LENTEN REFLECTIONS —WEEK 5

Today we are greeted by the author of the letter from Jude. His letter comes just before the book of Revelations.   He describes himself as a slave of Jesus and a brother of James. He writes to all who have been called by God the Father, who loves us, and keeps us safe in the care of Jesus Christ. In his short letter He warns the church of false Prophets, gives a call to remain faithful, and ends with a prayer of praise.

Doxology comes at the end of Jude’s letter which is  widely used by the church today

²⁴ To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— ²⁵ to the only God our Saviour be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.

Opening Prayer

Lent is a time to learn to travel

Light, to clear the clutter

From our crowded lives and

Find a space, a desert.

deserts are bleak; no creature-

comforts, only a vast expanse of

Stillness, sharpening awareness of

Ourselves and God

Uncomfortable places, deserts.

Most of the time we’re tempted to

Avoid them, finding good reason to

Live lives of ease; cushioned by

Noise from self-discovery.

Clutching at world’s success

To stave off fear.

But if we dare to trust the silence

To strip away our false security,

God can begin to grow his wholeness in us,

Fill up our emptiness, destroy our fears,

Give us new vision, courage for the journey,

And make our desert blossom like a rose.

From – ‘Waiting for the Kingfisher’ – Ann Lewin

Jude the Obscure ( John 14:22–27)

I am Jude the Apostle, sometimes called Thaddeus, in tradition the patron of lost causes.

What did I do? Follow a call and wander the roads, learning and laughing, loving and returning to the one who taught us of God in all creation.        

We were sent out, full of the stories of Jesus, the teachings; learning our trade; depending on the hospitality of the poor and of clement weather for nights in the open and empty bellies when this failed. I was one of the group who clung to him, serving, stewarding, distributing food, helping the sick through the crowd. Me and my namesake among the Twelve Men. What else? One night, I asked a question.

‘Do you intend to reveal yourself only to us and not to the world? Are we a special group with special knowledge, private joys beyond the grave?’ It was the answer that mattered. Jesus turned the question as usual, told us that he would be revealed through us, how we lived, how we related, how we served. That it would be lifelong learning, but the Spirit, the Advocate, would come to help us witness, in our work and speech. The Advocate would help us remember, teach us the depth of what Jesus had said and done. And that this would bring us the peace he gave as his parting gift. We had to live it out to understand it. Our work-life balance would ensure it.

I ate the meal and added my voice to the Psalm. I ran away when the going got rough that night. I was there, later, in that upper room where the stories of the women turned into a reality beyond possibility, that changed us forever. When the command to love each other led to the years of learning to do that, with those we agreed with, those in conflict. When the wound of Judas slowly filled with the peace beyond understanding, that some things are in the careful hands that will one day draw us home.

I was there at Pentecost when the Advocate came to answer my question. I was doing my work, telling the wonder. Later still, they put my name to a Letter – stand firm, I urged, keep faith in Christ, don’t be led astray. Be brave, as once I was not. Years later, the choice came again.

I did not dare be crucified with you for if you looked on me with eyes of love, where could I go?

And if you looked on me with eyes in pain how could I bear to know that my short suffering was always yours, and that you felt the mocking just as keen as years ahead, when on a different cross you heard denial in small-hearted folk whose sounds pursue you down eternal years in other choice and story, each one ours.

I did not dare be crucified with you but later when you looked on me with love I did not go but waiting bore the look of you who writhe upon a thousand crosses every day and bleed each second till the end of time.

We give thanks …

For those who serve in silence, and whom we often overlook.

For those who work in the unknown places of the world, calling us to stand firm and hold to eternal truths and the dignity of each person.

For those with the ‘wrong’ names, skin colour, abilities, gender, who live out their calling to the full.

We pray …

For the people, and peoples, of the world whom we forget when they are not news, for all the suffering we overlook in obscure places not considered worth reporting. We name them as we can …

For causes that seem lost, for climate change so long denied and now causing ever more suffering, especially among the most vulnerable.

For the hidden numbers who have died obscure on their travels across desert and sea, seeking to reach Europe and the hope of a better, safer, more constructive life. For the families left behind who may never know their story.

For the rescue workers and volunteers and their funders who seek to save people in danger and honour the dead. For all who are at risk, and those who carry the burden of failed risk.

Our own prayers …….. Lord’s Prayer ……

KEEP SAFE ….KEEP PRAYING……

Peter

Would you like to paint some pebbles for the next part of the ‘Real Love’ project?

The completed pebbles will be placed as a cairn at both ends of the Greenway and underneath the cross which will be in St. James’ churchyard. 

Andy Pearson has the pebbles. 

You can paint your own heart design.  Enamel paint would be ideal, but any paints can be used and then the pebbles will be varnished by Andy.

If you can help it would be great if you could collect a bag (or more) of stones (about 6 in each bag) from outside Andy’s house. If you need the stones delivering, then please email me: alisonwhiteley@ntlworld.com

We would like the stones returned by Friday 26th March so there is time to varnish them if needed.

Andy’s address is: 53 Bishops Way HD9 4BW

Thanks.

Alison