Sermons And Gubbins

This sermon was written for Bible Sunday 2023 and was preached at our Sunday morning service that day (29th October). In the news recently had been stories of awful atrocities committed in Israel and Gaza with escalations of violence on all sides. My sermon this morning has been a particularly difficult one to write. For me, the weight of everything that’s happening in Israel and Palestine just feels so heavy. I’m sure for you, there’s a similar feeling. It’s a kind of grief, I guess, mourning the senselessness, the cruelty and the seeming hopelessness of it all. There are no easy answers, and there really does not look to be a way out of this situation, save for a multiplying of the violence. Today, we’re supposed to be celebrating Bible Sunday ; a day to come together to celebrate the gift of the scriptures to God’s people. But, for me, at the moment, I cannot help but think about the fact that this book is intricately linked with the soil and the sea of the land we are watching fall...

This sermon was given at our morning Zoom service on Sunday 29th November, the first Sunday of Advent 2020. It was given in the wake (watch for that word) of the 2020 US Presidential elections and also news of three vaccines to help fight the spread of Coronavirus, but also whilst the whole country was in its second lockdown of 2020, with the threat of re-strengthed tiers of restrictions for much of the country when lockdown ended, with tier 3 for Greater Manchester being very very similar to full lockdown itself. The gospel for this Sunday was Mark 13:24-37 . I think we’re all sick of it now; the waiting. You can tell when you talk to people; when you queue next to them in those queues outside shops that threaten to go on forever (the queues, not the shops), or when you see parents and children winding each other up in the park, or even when you talk to your own family and loved ones; people are getting fractious and snappy. I know I am. Maybe you’re of better temperament tha...

This story was written in lieu of a sermon for our Zoom service on Sunday 26th April; the second Sunday after Easter. The gospel story was Luke 24:13-35 - The Road to Emmaus . In the story, only one of the disciples is named - Cleopas. In this reimagining of the tale, I have assumed the other to be his wife - the same woman mentioned who was present at Christ's crucifixion in John's gospel . I have tried to find parrallels between that initial time after Jesus' death, and the situation in which we all find ourselves today. I hope you enjoy reading it. A statue of St Mary Cleophas I t was a much nicer day than it should have been. You’d have thought given everything that had happened, the sky would be dark and the rain would be lashing down – you know, the kind of rain that stings you as you try to rush your way through it, trying your vainest best to make your way home before you are almost literally soaked to the bone, and your skin is red and cold from the ...

I've been thinking a lot about our reading from the Old Testament this week. It's probably the most famous section from the book of Ecclesiastes, and many of us probably know it as a pop song, rather than a quotation from the Bible - from the song ' Turn! Turn! Turn! ', made famous by The Byrds in the 1960s. The concept that there is a season for all things under the sun has been what's got me thinking this week. In the past four days, I've been to two funerals. I've absolutely been thinking about there being a time to weep, a time to mourn, and a time to die. For one of the funerals I attended, that idea of 'a time to die' was fitting. Marion was 91 years' old. She and her husband Philip had raised a son, of whom they had excellent reasons for feeling proud, seen their two granddaughters grow into successful and strong women, and lived to see and enjoy the presence of four beautiful great-grandchildren, the latest being Miriam, my daughter....

There’s a phrase – five small words – that people utter when they’re trying to empathise with you. People say it with the best of intentions, trying to bridge a gap of grief or loss, attempting to reach out and find some common ground. It’s a phrase that tries to be kind; that tries to be helpful. … I think it’s the most annoying phrase in the English language: “ I know how you fee l”. I’m sure I’ve uttered it before, and I’m thankful I wasn’t met with a swift slap in the face, to be honest. It’s certainly what I’ve felt like doing when people have said it to me. Because, the thing is, standing here in this pulpit tonight, I don’t know how you feel. I’ve not lost a partner or a mother or a father, or a daughter or a son. I’ve not lost a brother or a sister. I have lost other relatives, and my life is unequivocally emptier without good friends I have known who have died in years gone by. I also carry with me the grief of nearly ten years of my wife and I being unable to ...

This sermon was given at our Evensong service on Sunday 24th June 2018. There had been much in the news that week about the US's policy of child-detention camps. The Old Testament reading that evening was Jeremiah 10:1-16 . Our Old Testament reading tonight is taken from the Book of Jeremiah. I don’t often go into historical detail about our readings, but I think – tonight – a brief overview would be helpful. The Book of Jeremiah was written somewhere around 625-585 BC, so roughly about 2600 years ago. It was written mainly in Hebrew, and was written when the Jewish people in Judah were a subject state, being ruled over by the Egyptians, and then – after a war between Egypt and Babylon – by the Babylonians.  Judah rebelled several times against Babylonian rule, but was, each time, defeated, until finally, Babylon crushed Judah, destroying Jerusalem and its temple, and sent the Jewish people into their famous Babylonian exile. Given that background, our reading seems som...

This poem was given in place of a sermon at our 10:15 service on Christmas Eve. It's (obviously) based on Clement Clark Moore's famous poem, A Visit from St. Nicholas .  I hope you enjoy it. ‘Twas the day before Christmas, and all o’er the world Every grown-up was busy; every boy, every girl. The stockings weren’t up yet, the mulled wine not yet spiced, The presents unwrapped still – <gasp!> – the cake’s not been iced! Church-goers were dotted alone in their rows Whilst shopping lists higher thoughts in their heads o’er-imposed. And mum’s getting frantic, and dad’s getting ‘merry’ And – oh no, no, no! We’ve just run out of sherry! And out in the towns, packed shops fill up their coffers As last-minute shoppers vie for last minute offers. Home, quick! Put lights up, to compete with our neighbour; But somewhere else, now, a teenage girl is in labour. And she’s waited – her advent has been 40 weeks – And she thinks of the child that she be...