Sermons And Gubbins

This story was given in lieu of a sermon on Sunday 11th October. The gospel reading was Matthew 22:1-14 , which is (in my mind at least) quite a troublesome passage. This is my response to Jesus' prompting of us to compare the kingdom of heaven to the banquet he talks about in his parable. I hope you enjoy my own version!      O nce there was a great and powerful king. He lived in a most magnificent palace in a land called Ekklesia. The palace was built high up on a hill, and gleamed with golden domes and silver spires that glittered in the sunlight. All the citizens of Ekklesia wondered at the marvels that must exist within that palace, given the opulence displayed so evidently in its building work. They stared up as they went about their business, carrying trade of fine silks, heady spices and precious metals from the great merchant ships in the harbour to the rich city centre. One of those who marvelled at this palace every day was a fellow called Lazarus. Lazarus ...

It’s National Poetry Day again, which means it’s time for my annual look back at the poems I’ve written over the last year. Looking back over them, I think this might have been one of my more prolific years of writing… and, (imho!), one of my better ones too. There isn’t really a single theme running through them. There’s family, faith, death, memory, mythology, social media, school playgrounds, and quite a bit of the stuff of ordinary life. Some are playful; some are rather darker. A couple are fairly traditional in form, while others ended up doing something a bit more different. And that’s one of the things I really enjoy (and dread!!!) about writing poetry. I rarely know quite where a poem is going when I start it. So, in chronological order, here they are: T E A R A small experiment in form, written at the end of last year. The Adventure A poem about adventure, although perhaps not quite the sort of adventure you might initially expect. A Moment to Myself A little space...

  Fons Vitae It never was a myth.  Though tinged with rust, its waters still flow. Persian Princes pursuing Makrobian springs; Crusader Kings seeking sacred scriptural pools; Rich Conquistadors questing for the lost lands of Bimini; All their trails ran dry.  All grew old and died. Outside Class 2, St Bethesda’s School  — a forgotten hamlet near to Bath —  An old drinking fountain, barely used. Now, parents trust a sterile, cartooned flask. Yet, all the children know a wet paper towel from this fountain cures any playground injury. And a thumb under the tap  makes for the liveliest summer game. But Covid roped it off. And the juniors warn of ‘lead poisoning’. The youngest infants, though, have not yet learnt better than to lean in and drink (when the adults are not looking, of course). It is always the youngest. During the summer,  it stands unattended save for the sparrows  that renew themselves in the drips from the tap and the dandelions  ...

This sermon was preached at our Sunday morning service on 30th August. The Gospel was Matthew 16:21-28 , and the New Testament reading was Romans 12:9-21 .  In writing this sermon, I was reminded of a hymn I wrote a few years ago. I nearly quoted it in the sermon, but removed it in the end. It's here  if you wish to read it.   Last week, Huw talked to us about when Peter proclaimed Jesus as the Messiah, and then how difficult the disciples must have found it when Jesus instructed them to keep quiet about it. I have been thinking about that this week. And I’ve also been wondering about Jesus’ motivation. To tell you the truth, I have never understood why Jesus wanted his heavenly identity to be kept so under wraps. Well, this week, we finally find out why.   Poor Peter. I’ve never known someone get it so spectacularly right, and then so catastrophically wrong within such a short space of time. Last week , he was top of his game. Jesus asked his disciples w...