Sermons And Gubbins

Is it too late to wish you a happy new year?    I’m sure there must be some convention here to follow; a piece of good etiquette that says something along the lines of “new year’s wishes may be conferred upon others up until midday on the Feast of Epiphany, unless there was resting snow on New Year’s Day, in which case – in exceptional circumstances – you may continue to wish someone a happy new year until the first bells of Evensong on the following Sunday”. If that etiquette exists, I must confess my ignorance as to not knowing it, and so I’d like to take this opportunity this morning to wish you a happy new year. May it be kind to you. I think we could do with a kind year, don’t you? The past two years have been hard and cruel. They’ve changed us. None of us are the same people we were this time in 2019; our lives have become smaller and more insular. We’ve lost colleagues, friends and loved ones. Covid has changed our plans and rewritten our rules and – even if we have man...

This sermon was given on Sunday 18th April at both our Zoom and our physical service. The Gospel reading was Luke 24:36b-48 . My office at home is at the back of our house. It has French doors that lead into our garden, and it's been lovely - in those times I've not been staring at my laptop screen - to look out to see the changes in the plants and trees over the last few weeks; to see signs of spring appearing and the garden bursting into life. Each day I look and see new vibrancy and colours, more birds and butterflies; new signs of life.  And it's the same in the country as a whole; as covid restrictions have gradually lifted over those same few weeks, it's been incredibly emotional to see signs of life return in our public spaces as friends and family meet again after months of corporate winter. There's been a great deal of joy as lives begin again to interconnect and the virtual becomes corporal and physical and real. But... And there is always a 'b...

This poem was written for our Evensong service on 7th October, the week of National Poetry Day 2018. The day was given over to our church's Harvest Festival, and I was reflecting on what we - who no longer plough fields or scatter seed - can bring to the creator of everything, who needs nothing from us. Hope you enjoy... I am not a farmer; I can bring no wheat. I am not a butcher; I can bring no meat. I am not a baker; I can offer no fresh batch. Nor am I a fisherman; I can bring no morning catch. I am not a hunter; I can bring no prey. I am not a potter and can bring no refined clay. I am not a gardener; I can bring no fresh produce. And I am not a fruit picker; I cannot bring first fruits. I am not a cow-herd; I can offer you no milk. I am not a weaver; I can bring you no fine silk. I am not a serving cook; I can prepare for you no meal And I am not a blacksmith; I can forge for you no steel. I am not a miner; I cannot bring you coal. N...

This sermon was preached at our morning service on Sunday 13th August. The gospel reading was Matthew 14:22-33 ; Jesus walking on the water. I've always found the usual interpretations of this story somewhat simplistic, so it was interesting to think upon and do some research into other potential meanings here. I hope you find it useful.   When I was a little boy, I loved playing in the local swimming pool. Now, notice how I phrased that; ‘playing in the swimming pool’. I didn’t love going swimming. I’ve never been a strong swimmer; in fact, I was in high school before I finally learnt to swim without using arm bands or a float. No – I didn’t like going swimming; I tolerated the swimming so that I could play in the swimming pool. The pool was exciting; there was a shallow area with spurting fountains you could manipulate to spray in your playmates’ direction, there were huge foam boards that several would-be-pirate children could climb onto and command at the same time,...