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

Hello everyone

LENTEN REFLECTIONS —WEEK 4

The weeks leading up to Easter seem to be flying by. We are halfway through Lent and discovering something about the more obscure characters mentioned in the New Testament. We only have time and space for seven characters at a rate of one per week. There has been a positive response to the content and style of the material we are using which makes me wonder whether it would be beneficial to cover one or two more or all the remaining stories after Easter.

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

Simon Iscariot

Simon Iscariot (John 6:71,13:2,27; see too Matthew 27:3–10)

His name appears only as the father of Judas, the thief, the betrayer. It places Judas the Everyman in a time and a community, a man with a family, perhaps one that loved him. Judas was not like Barabbas, the ‘son of a father’, the anonymous troublemaker who gained his freedom at Jesus’ expense, the Everyman without the family that gave a person identity, belonging.

Was Simon Iscariot, named three times, a follower of Jesus, sympathiser, even, later, a witness? Was he a man visited, prayed with, by the more patient, large-hearted followers of Jesus? Did they include another bereaved parent, Mary, mother of Jesus? Or was only his name known, this man who had lost his son to a life on the road with an itinerant preacher, and then lost his reputation with a son branded as thief, traitor, and suicide?

Did Peter seek out Simon to tell of his own failing, and the meeting that followed? In the turmoil around the teachings of Jesus, Simon lost his son. When an adult child goes wrong, there may be regret, grieving and attempt to reason, a determination to stay by them, whatever trouble they bring upon themselves. Judas was not a disowned Barabbas. He’d fallen in love with the words of a wandering preacher, and died a lonely death, cast aside, betrayed by the godly people who had used him.

What can we say to a parent whose son has taken his life? That earth has no sorrow heaven cannot heal? That God understands, encompasses all? That it is a tragedy, whatever someone has done, however their life has spiralled beyond control? However much others tempted and taunted him and will not take their share of blame?

Did the parents ask if God betrayed him, though the manipulation of the priests and handwashing more rigorous than Pilate’s?

What can we say to the grief for a life cut short in loneliness, by one for whom the burden of life had become too heavy to bear alone? What do the parents say of those who let their son lose hope and left him to his pain? Is God there in the small hours, when the world sleeps and the grieving wake, remembering the boy who will not wake again? When they ask if there was something left unsaid, some way to reach him, to say that there is always a way out, a way round the hardest fear, a way home. ‘And always a place for you here. If Jesus wears you out, take respite here. If love has worn you out, rest your wounds here. If you took the wrong path, we too will share your shame, and be with you as you turn.’

After you died, trapped in cold metal tubes, machines and staff who saw the science not the soul; when your thwarted breath slept forever your story took its route, for good or loss. And though it took a time as you got used to having died, I sensed that somewhere far you lived a while the life you never had, and live also in all the love you left and all the loss.

Belfast Covenant, 1988

That dark Good Friday with the heavy air

beating our anger as the gutters poured,

soaking the poisoned streets, the extra mile

torn to harm, our arms scarred vision stained,

 souls drained, our feet leaked blood that streamed,

streamed on the pavements with no hope spared;

that afternoon with faith subdued,

price paid, spirit dulled in the trickling lull

of dank chapels dripping psalms, we came,

under iron cloud, lifting eyes to the hills

where, sudden, full, unbidden, three rainbows showed,

grew, glowed, bowed over the city waste.

We give thanks …

For the friends and families who stay by people in pain, all the way.

For those who support the sinner, the criminal, the social pariah, opposing the actions but regarding the humanity.

For those who work in the emergency services and deal with the aftermath of violent death, for the Samaritans and other organisations that seek to help people avoid suicide and self-harm.

We pray …

For all families who have lost a loved one by suicide, those whose loved one has harmed themselves alone, and those who have taken others to their deaths.

We pray… for all those caught up in war and violence, in the troubled places of the world and in our own land.

For those entrapped by addiction and the lifestyle that drives people into darkness, debt, depression and disordered values. For those who feel their life has no value, that others suffer from their living, that they may find again the

value Christ places on them.

We pray… for those in the hardest situations, who believe that the only way to keep their integrity is to end their

lives. We pray for all those caught up in war and violence, in the troubled places of the world and in our own land.

Our own prayers …….. Lord’s Prayer ……

KEEP SAFE …. KEEP PRAYING……

Peter

Hello everyone

LENTEN REFLECTIONS —WEEK 3

Simon the Zealot

Scripture tells us almost nothing about Simon. In the Gospels, he is mentioned in three places, but only to list his name with the 12 disciples. In Acts 1:13 we learn that he was present with the 11 apostles in the upper room of Jerusalem after Christ had ascended to heaven. Church tradition holds that he spread the gospel in Egypt as a missionary and was martyred in Persia. Like most of the other apostles, Simon the Zealot deserted Jesus during his trial and crucifixion. Clearly there must be more to the man who was referred to as a Zealot.

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

Simon the Zealot

Coming down from the hills changed me. I met him first in that desert, where I’d bloodied and battered and been bloodied and battered, on the steep road to Jericho. We’d both known the force of the law, the brutality, the demands of the military, and the homes smashed during so-called searches, and the homes destroyed as punishment. A cowed people nursed their bitterness in strong community, closed against the other. It was during my second time in prison, when my body ached from the beatings and the years stretched out ahead, that he visited, and brought cold water, clothing, food, and dignity.  

 I fell in love with the romance of faith in a different journey, the knowledge that the hills where we trained were the hills where he prayed. I could see why I needed him but not why he wanted me. In the years of the dirty war we’d lost sight of what we were fighting for: it was more tit for tat, keeping up the fear so we might survive. But he brought me back to the centre, to the goodness and truth and different way to live that I’d known as a child, then a youth. He refreshed my soul.

But follow him? Ex-taxmen, small business-folk, women with histories, there was a place for everybody in his company, I found. And being with him made us start to be kind again. Soldiers have bonds – we look out for each other: this was deeper. We gave without counting the cost, without hope of return. Not just to each other, but we turned aside mistrust and took the risk with strangers. And enjoyed the results. We laughed on the road. Yet I wasn’t much good at the end. I wasn’t the hand-to-hand combat type, more the bomb-maker at a distance. I’d given up on hurting people but it was bombastic Simon Peter who was better at security guard roles. I’d seen so much pain: I was scared at the thought of what it would be like. Going all the way with him. I’d seen my mates executed: even the toughest fall apart. In those hours, those days. That’s the point: it doesn’t pay to cross authority. I did not think, my friend, that I could love so little, or could be so self-absorbed I could not see your body on the other tree, that I could miss in this, my life’s extreme, your living company. You did not love the loud thief less then, love, though he could only hear his groaning anger at the world in pain which you have held so dear. So, Christ, if we should turn from you at last, you are forever near.

Afghan sacrifice 2001

The mild-mannered man on the city council declared himself a former soldier and an atheist. He’d seen too much in Afghanistan. Then he told a story, just one.

They had been far out in the lawless areas, to the north. They scurried to leave the hostile village as tempers flared. All got in and, the door still open, the helicopter took off. At that moment, through the crowd two women ran and each threw something through the door.

‘We thought we were done for.’ But the explosion, their lives’ final sound, did not come. The pilot flew upwards. There were two bundles, each a desperately ill baby. ‘What mother could do that, so desperate she risked her child with strangers?’

They cared for the two as best they might. One died on the flight, the other lived and was taken to hospital and then to an orphanage in Kabul.

We give thanks …

For those who can change their way of life and show us the humanity within the enemy.

For those who recognise their own failures and return to show us how to be braver than they.

For those wars that have ended,

For unseen acts of gentleness or of withholding from slaughter, expected or ordered.

We pray …

For an end to violence, and a recognition that speaking at the table earlier rather than later saves much suffering.

For child soldiers and all they have seen and been brought to do.

We pray for those who have suffered at their hands, and for all who seek to work for the future of all.

For the places in the world where violence dominates; for an end to suicide bombing and for an understanding of the cost and casualties.

For a just, peaceful, rapid and lasting solution in Israel-Palestine, the lands where the soles of your feet have touched the earth.

Our own prayers …….. Lord’s Prayer ……

KEEP SAFE ….KEEP PRAYING……

Peter

We are planning to celebrate the Real Love story of Easter ( see https://vimeo.com/509894747/9feb33b1d7 ) and we need your help. Felt hearts will be given out to school staff and children and to care home staff and residents. We need about 1000! They will be accompanied by a card with an appropriate message. They are very simple to make (see the picture above). If you think you could make some felt hearts, we will provide the materials.

Please send me a message via email stating how many you can make. I’ll then email the pattern.
We know that the schools and the care homes think it’s a good idea, so we now need to get busy!

Thanks.

alisonwhiteley@ntlworld.com

Hello everyone

LENTEN REFLECTIONS WEEK 2

Last week Ash Wednesday heralded the beginning of the Season of Lent. Almost over a year ago we sent out our first prayer letter to our Churches Together. We have journeyed together praying for the world-wide pandemic Coronavirus and its effects on us all. On the journey we have had the opportunity to deepen our relationship with God through the many different avenues of prayer that we have been using. We have prayed, meditated, and reflected on God’s Word through the Scriptures and the thoughts of others.

Recently we have been using P.R.A.Y praying in the shape of LECTIO 365 a National & International Aid which exists to help us pray in groups or as individuals. The aim is that our prayers, wherever we are, at whatever time we pray, are being prayed to our Father in heaven 24-7 every day of the year.

Our opening Prayer will serve us for each week of Lent.

Christine and I are following the “Lenten Reflections on thirteen lesser reported followers of Jesus’ passion” By Rosemary Power’ A Wild Goose publication. www.ionabooks.com We invite you to join us each week for seven of these  Reflections as we lead up to Easter Day.

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

WEEK TWO: A  SEEKER:  – MARTHA, PROPHET,

Martha (Luke 10:38–42; John 11:1–44,12:1–3)

I spread a table before him within reach of his foes. God called me to that.

I learnt at the hearth. God called me to that.

I witnessed his truth, I spoke the Word, Christ in the world, Resurrection and Life.

My sister surpassed me.

All time has remembered me.

When they retold the tale, they made Martha the fusspot, the irritant, interrupting the serious business with domestic detail. This was Martha, one of the few women Jesus called by her own name, dropping the usual formal title. ‘I have called you by your name, you are mine.’ ‘You are the Christ, who was to come into the world.’ ‘Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.’ Against all convention her name comes before her brother’s.

Martha the homemaker witnessed before them, that Jesus is the Christ. Who could bring the dead to life. Simon Peter witnessed in front of Jesus’ followers when he made his declaration of faith; Martha spoke it before the village and the visitors, some doubting, others hostile. When their enemies plotted to kill Jesus, and Lazarus too, Martha and her sister were in danger. She came to the party and served the meal, knowing of the plotting and what impact her words had had.

Jesus had once calmed Martha his host, brought her back to the central matters. Martha stood aside and let her younger sister surpass her. She cared for her brother, served Simon the Leper, saw Jesus for what he was,  and  risked repercussions.

We meet her in hospitals and churches, in the kitchen, in the meeting-place, in the wrong place, at the wrong moment, rustling the papers, keeping the church running, ordering the necessities, speaking the startling word of truth and generosity that comes from a lifetime of understated prayer. Martha is the necessary irritant, the reliable voice, the host with a heart for Christ. She hid Jews from Nazis, Tutsis from Hutus, Yazidis from Daesh, the trafficked from gangsters. The fusspot at the cooking served Christ in the world.

We give thanks …

For the people we underestimate, for those who appear to have no specific

talent but who make other work possible.

For those who have made the Word of God the study of a lifetime.

For those who take the call to hospitality to its fullness in welcoming the

needy and life-worn, the hurt and the homeless, the refugee and stranger.

We pray …

For the silent witness of courage and the public act. That we might have the

insight to speak of Christ in the right place, at the right time.

For the times when we see our work as undervalued by our fellow humans

and by God when it seems that the easy path is on the road of others.

For the people in our lives who have been scarred by sickness, isolation, and

neglect, that they may enjoy the fullness of life and may serve our society.

For the insight to understand and bear witness to God in the world, in the

light of the Resurrection.

We give thanks …

For the unsung witnesses who have passed to us the stories that make our

faith real.

For the steadfastness of friends who have stood by us in our times of trial.

For the joy that breaks through in unexpected ways.

We pray …

For those who follow, pray and pray and keep us practical.

For those who walk through the corridors of power and keep their eyes on

goodness.

For the strength of the marriage bond, that it may bring blessing on its partners

and on all whose lives it touches.

That we may be able to recognise the risen Christ in our daily lives and

among the people we meet.

Our own prayers …….. Lord’s Prayer ……

KEEP SAFE ….KEEP PRAYING……

Peter