Ministry Team Letters January – June 2009
Dear Friends,
I am writing this just after the sudden death of Peter Ballantine, which has left so many of us feeling shocked and bewildered. There will no doubt be space later on to write more fully about Peter, and probably much more will be said and written by other people, but here I want to put down in the raw some of my feelings – not all of which are directly concerned with Peter.
The sudden death of someone we care about produces a complex series of emotions apart from simple grief. We are never prepared for it, although we know in our heads that something like this happens all the time to someone, somewhere, and not a few of us will have experienced something similar before. There are always loose ends, a feeling of being robbed of the chance to say good-bye, a train of greater or lesser ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’. But what I have felt equally strongly over these past couple of days is the sense that a life where there has been any love at all – and there are mercifully precious few without any, and of course in Peter’s case a great deal – is bound up with the lives of others in a way that leaves no room to doubt the supreme value of that love. ‘Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind,’ said John Donne. We all feel diminished by the thought that we will no longer hear Peter’s voice, grasp his hand, benefit from his cheer and help and friendship and wisdom. Peter’s death feels as if a branch has been ripped off our tree, a part of ourselves extracted. But that is another way of recognising the value of the life now ended among us. The pain we feel is the obscure face of love.
And that love is eternal we really have no reason to doubt. The Gospel for today, May 17, the first Sunday after Peter’s death, comes from John chapter 15. ‘As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Now remain in my love…My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you….This is my command: Love each other.’ What Love commands, Love makes possible. In that good friend of Jesus, our Peter, we have seen that command bear fruit among us, and that does not change now Peter is removed from our sight to the place where the light of God drives away all shadows. For this and for so much more besides, in the midst of sorrow we give thanks to God.
With love
David
Dear Friends,
I have been asked if I could reproduce the sermon I gave at the Good Friday liturgy this year, so here is the essence of it.
In the Vicarage garden at the moment, a large Japanese cherry tree is just coming into full bloom. It is a glorious sight, and I love it not only for its beauty or because it reminds me of this time of year in Japan, when people will be holding picnic parties under the flowering cherries, but also because it seems to me to speak of the God who made it. This is what a tree is for. It is created by the God who has made all things well to reflect something of the ‘fair beauty of the Lord.’
But today we are contemplating a piece of wood which embodies the very opposite of beauty and usefulness. Even by the standards of its day, the cross used for crucifixion in the time of Christ was a piece of crude technology, and it was made solely to inflict hideous pain and a sordid death. There is a great irony in the fact that Jesus, who as the son of a carpenter could no doubt turn his own hands to producing good woodwork, was put to death on rough pieces of timber probably slapped together with contempt by whoever got them ready.
This is not what wood is for, and not what trees grow for. It seems to be one of the great and tragic themes of the human story that we continually misuse our God-given talents to make out of God’s good materials harmful things that distort the beauty of Creation. Having lived for ten years in Nagasaki, my thoughts often turn to the atom bomb dropped on the city. The bomb was not made by monsters, but by decent men working at the very pinnacle of scientific endeavour. Yet it was an undeniably evil thing, causing misery and destruction. It seems we have no choice but to agree with the philosopher Immanuel Kant, who said, ‘Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing can ever be made.’
And yet today we affirm that this is not the final reality. Out of the crooked timber of the cross, devised from the crookedness of men’s hearts, has come the truest and straightest path to the heart of the God of love. The cross of Jesus Christ reveals the extent of God’s love for me, and for the whole of humanity. No matter what devious and crooked paths I may follow, no matter how corrupt and deceitful my heart may become, God will pursue me with His relentless compassion, and if when finally He confronts my iniquity with His self-giving I respond by willing His destruction, He will go even to that end – and beyond. God in Jesus Christ submits Himself to our worst. We misuse, and God restores.
If you look at the stained glass window nearest the memorial altar in the north aisle, you will see a depiction of Christ on the cross. There is the instrument of torture, and there are the nails in the hands and feet of Christ. But Christ Himself is not the naked, broken figure we sometimes see, but is robed in splendour, crowned as a king, and with upright body seems to reach out His arms from the cross in mysterious triumph. Underneath it says in Latin, ‘Christ reigns from the tree.’ God has the power to turn even our worst depravity, even our most terrible cruelty, into a channel for His inexhaustible love. For that, on this Good Friday, let us give everlasting thanks.
With love
David
Dear Friends
As I write, we are enjoying a particularly lovely early spring. The days are full of hazy sunshine, and one can almost see buds and flowers unfurling. People are visibly more cheerful, and speak of the hard winter as if it had been a long, dark tunnel from which we are now emerging. By the time you read this, the weather may have changed again, and this unusually balmy March become a pleasant memory. However, at the moment it is not hard to make connections between the things we all enjoy about spring, and the resurrection of Jesus we will soon celebrate. Life and light and warmth return after a time of cold and darkness, and we are simply glad.
And yet there is a difference. No one speaks of ‘believing in’ spring – it happens, eventually, and we see and sense it all around us. The resurrection of Jesus from the dead seems to require a great deal of believing, and for many it is truly beyond belief. It is possible to present arguments about why the events of the first Easter are true, or at least credible. But what if we could somehow start from an Easter faith, instead of struggling to get to it? What would the world look like then? What if from now on we lived on the assumption that God has indeed raised Jesus from death to life – would we find our lives felt any different?
Living with two young children who are regularly exposed to Christian stories is very instructive. (Hannah hears them too, I suppose, but we don’t get much theological reflection out of her just yet.) For Simon and Karin, mere belief is not a problem; it is already a ‘given’ that ‘Jesus was on the cross and he died, but then he came back!’ For them, that is the reality of the world they are growing up in. How enviable! Neither Yoko nor I, for different reasons, have come to faith that way, and for us, as for many, there will always be a part of ourselves that is disbelieving. ‘Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.’
Yet if we are able, even intermittently, to suspend our disbelief, then a world in which the Easter story is the central truth will transform itself before our eyes. The suffering we see all around us or experience within, and which so often threatens to become the only reality, will still be just as painful but will be out of the grasp of despair. And we shall begin to see a quietly radiant hope and to hear a bass note of joy flowing through everything we are used to thinking of as mundane or fearful or sad.
If that sounds like a worthwhile way to live, then Easter is our annual invitation to attempt the experiment of faith. Without worrying too much about what we believe or how well we believe it, we can act as if our own story does not end in pain and loss but has an eternal and glorious destiny. Nothing changes but our point of view, but that changes everything.
May we all be given the grace this Easter to accept the gift of faith, and to see the world through the eyes of the One who has overcome all fear.
With love
David
Dear Friends
We will be holding our next Shalom service on Sunday March 8th at 11.30 am (changed from the scheduled date of March 1st). This service is what has been known in the past as the Healing Service, and is sub-titled, ‘a quiet service of prayer for wholeness and well-being’.
The word shalom is a lovely Hebrew term that covers everything we mean by peace, wholeness, and health. In the Old Testament, shalom means a condition in which individuals enjoy long life, happiness and prosperity, in which relationships in the family and in communities are well-ordered and harmonious, and the land is at peace. This is the proper state of humanity for which the world was created. This blessing is of course the gift of God. Shalom in Hebrew and the equivalent salaam in Arabic are still used as daily greetings, and the speaker in effect thus prays for this blessing of all that is good to be upon the one he greets.
In the New Testament, this shalom becomes synonymous with Christ, who reconciles humanity to itself and to God. “Christ himself is our peace, who has made the two [gentile and Jew] one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility.” (Ephesians 2: 14) When at the Eucharist we greet each other with the words, “peace be with you” or, “the peace of the Lord be with you,” and then go on to share communion with those whom we have greeted, we are doing more than wishing that God may give others a peaceful life. We are recognising that we cannot know shalom unless we actively seek to bring it to others, and that together our shalom is found in Christ. You are my shalom and I am yours because we both are in Christ, and we are called to pray and work for nothing less than the shalom of the whole world, beginning in the church and in our families and our community but leaving out nothing whatsoever that God has made.
Of course, none of us experiences this shalom perfectly, nor ever will until the whole world does, and for some it can feel as if it is merely a fantasy. If we are ill or depressed or lonely or grieving, or if our responsibilities feel too much, or our faith seems feeble, we may be in need of reminding how near the God of shalom truly is. Jesus spent much of his ministry bringing healing of one kind or another, of body, mind or spirit, or of relationships, in order to demonstrate just this, and the church has from then till now always held this healing work to be at the heart of what is meant by the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ.
This is what our Shalom service is for. The name was changed from the admittedly simpler ‘Healing Service’ largely at my request, as I have a bit of a problem with seeming to advertise healing as if it were something provided on tap. I have been to a few dodgy ‘healing services’ where a single charismatic ‘healer’ prayed for people with ailments and then tried to convince the crowd that they had just witnessed a miracle. I would never want to deny that God can and does do extraordinary things in people’s lives, and I believe that each time someone recovers from anything, be it a common cold, a bout of cancer or any kind of difficulty, at the deepest level this is the work of God, who alone works that which is good. In the Shalom service, through quiet prayer and singing, and through the laying on of hands, anointing, and listening ears for those who want them, we draw close to God, who is shalom, and we do so for ourselves, for each other, and for the world that so desperately lacks the shalom God yearns to bless it with. What happens may seem like nothing very much, but God is there, and that is everything.
I would like to invite you to consider coming on 8 March. You don’t have to be unwell or feeling particularly in need of help to be there – we all need God, and the world and many of those around us need your prayers. Whether you can come or not, may you know the peace of God in your life, always, and may we all be bearers of God’s peace in this world.
Shalom
David
Dear Friends
This year the Diocese of Ely celebrates its 900th anniversary – I think that’s a nonacentennial. The story of the church in Ely goes back much further, at least to the foundation of a monastery by St Etheldreda on Eel Ey (eel island) in 673 AD, although it is said that she built her church on the ruins of an even earlier one. However, for most of this early period Ely was part of the vast diocese of Lincoln. In 1109 Henry I carved the Diocese of Ely out of Lincoln, and it is this bit of ecclesiastical re-ordering that we commemorate this year. (Godmanchester and much of Huntingdonshire remained in Lincoln diocese until 1847, so we are relative newcomers and should perhaps wait until 2747 before holding our own nonacentennial event.)
To be able to look back at 900 years of anything is rather wonderful, but like all such celebrations it will only be of any real value if it is used as a source of inspiration and vision rather than self-congratulation. Longevity does not in itself guarantee vitality. Unless the church today is alive with the Risen Christ, nine centuries of history will be simply a matter for archives and antiquarians. The Jews rightly delighted to look back, and still do, at the mighty works of God in delivering them from bondage in Egypt and establishing the people of Israel in their land, but their prophets were constantly reminding them that these things were done in the past and remembered in the present in order to reveal who God eternally is and shall be. Whatever we find to celebrate this year, and it will be much, it is to the God of our salvation that we turn in praise and longing.
Here in Godmanchester, as you will know, we are trying to discern God’s guidance for His church in this place by carrying out Mission Action Planning. This Lent, we hope to further the process by forming special Lent groups. Four groups will meet four times, each time looking at a different aspect of church life. These topics are the ones that have been identified by the MAP process so far. The groups will rotate each week, meeting each time in a new location with new leaders and with a fresh topic, so that everyone has a chance to discuss all of them. Only the leaders will stay in the same place and with the same matter for discussion, so that they can collate the views of all four groups on their particular theme.
2009 MAP Lent groups - Wednesdays at 7.30 pm, beginning March 4th
| Topic | Group Leaders | Venue |
| Church Buildings |
Peter Irving Simon Prince |
Peter Irving’s home |
| Outreach |
Peter Dawe Andrew Fawcett |
Peter Dawe’s home |
| Church Family |
David Busk John Thackray |
John Thackray's home |
| Worship |
Gill Bathurst-Hoile Mary Jepp |
Mary Jepp’s home |
Please seriously consider taking part in this. You can start at any one of the venues, since you will rotate to the others in due course together with those who came to the first group with you. In this way, we hope to begin to clarify how we see God leading us. If you have any questions about this, please talk to me or Mary Jepp. We need your participation to make this work. May we find this Lent that God speaks ever more clearly to us, and so may the celebration of His saving acts continue to ring down the ages in this place and in all the world.
With Love,
David
Dear Friends
Jack Russell walking, at 6 am in mid winter, is not one of my favourite things. I peer out of our bedroom window every morning to assess the weather, and regardless of whether it is wet or dry it is always dark.
It struck me the other day, when I was half way across Judith’s Field in the dark, just how light it actually was. The field, regardless of the time of day or night, is illuminated by the lights of the near-by industrial estate and the town beyond. The lights, as well as the continuous hum of traffic, diminish our awareness of the natural world. As a result it’s easy to forget that there are heavenly bodies overhead. Our modern lighting systems mean we need to consciously search for the stars above; stars which have featured in scripture and, for some at least, have shaped individuals’ destinies. Stars which, down through the centuries, have guided sailors, explorers and not least the three wise men.
The wise men, we know by tradition, travelled from distant lands, ‘following yonder star’, to kneel in adoration at the feet of the infant Jesus. It has been suggested that they had travelled thousands of miles, maybe from the region of Parthia near the site of ancient Babylon. Scholars suggest that these wise men believed, perhaps through access to copies of the Old Testament, that they were going in search of the Messiah. Their knowledge of the stars was their security in stepping out into the unknown. I expect that even for wise men, their journey was an adventure of a lifetime, a journey which would change their lives forever.
And what did they find at Bethlehem but a baby lying in a manager. I wonder what those wise men thought? They could not possibly know the significance of the child they saw; of how that tiny baby would change the destiny of all who believed in him, freeing them from their sins and altering their lives beyond recognition. That baby demonstrated to the world that the true riches of life are not to be found among the wealthy of this world.
For the wise men, their courage was rooted in their knowledge of the stars. For us as Christians, we too have knowledge and faith, but ours is in the Good News of Christ, knowledge, which should give us the courage to step bravely forward on our own faith journey. Our faith is not only about looking backwards and reflecting on the life of Christ but it is about looking forward and engaging with those outside our Christian community. Just as our modern world dims our view of the stars, so it may also cloud our vision of Christ and his gospel message of love to a loveless world. Let us pray that in this New Year we can keep our focus on Christ, while at the same time reaching out into a world which yearns for his message of love.
Yours in Christ
Mary Jepp