• Easter Sermon 2021

    Lent has been long enough.

    This Lent particularly has been long enough.

    Just over a year ago we locked down in the middle of Lent. And it feels as though that existence has been going on in one form or another ever since.

    Most people have embraced the need for the lockdown lives that we have been living. And this itself is a miracle that we should not ignore.

    Collective altruistic action on such a mass scale to protect life and human flourishing is a miracle of no small stature.

    But Lent has still been long enough.

    We have known discipline in our lives from last year’s Lent to this year’s Lent like never before.

    And Lent has been long enough.

    One of the ways that I’ve learned to keep holy week is to look for resonances of the Passion stories around me in life today.

    Back on the streets of Jerusalem, one of the stories of holy week that always troubles me is that it is the same crowd that cries hosanna in the streets that goes on to cry crucify.

    This year it is the same society that clapped for carers in the streets that has been unable to agree decent pay and conditions for those whom they once applauded.

    Lent has been long enough.

    Back in Jerusalem it is an out of town African – Simon of Cyrene who carries the weight of the cross on Good Friday and then disappears from view.

    In our own times, black and ethnic minority people in our land have carried the weight of the corona pandemic in far more disproportionate numbers than they should have done. And that fact seems to be disappearing from view.

    It is no help for a government report to claim there is no structural racism in society when black and ethnic minority folk have been dying in greater numbers than everyone else.

    Indeed, that kind of claim is what structural racism looks like and sounds like.

    Lent has been long enough.

    Back in a garden close to Calvary a stone is rolled in front of a tomb by a group far too small to have been the only mourners at Jesus’s funeral.

    And dear God, have we known the tomb this year? And how we have known the pain of being banished from the sides of those whom we love, as they have lived, and died and been buried.

    Lent has been long enough.

    But Lent, in our tradition, doesn’t go on forever.

    It comes to an abrupt end with startling news – that Jesus Christ is risen from the grave. Death is not the end. All that we ever assumed is turned on its head.

    Jesus is alive. And with us. And nothing will ever be the same again.

    The discovery of the resurrection on that first Easter day was hard to comprehend. It is hard to comprehend now.

    Yet for two thousand years, Christians have proclaimed that death does not have the last word, that all that rots the human Spirit is defeated, that new life is our heritage and our hope.

    New life is the new normal.

    The Easter proclamation means – and has always meant, that the old normal wasn’t working. Something new – so very new is here.

    And yes, you can feel and know that it is real it in our own times too.

    The resurrection is proclaimed in the kindness of strangers – and there has been much of that this year.

    The resurrection is proclaimed in those searching for a new and sustainable way of living on this earth.

    The resurrection is proclaimed when those fighting for justice taste its sweetness.

    The new normal is faith and hope and joy and love.

    And it is all, yes all that we need in our lives today.

    I see it when the flowers bloom from an earth that was frozen and hard and cold.

    I hear it in the song of the robin and the wren.

    I feel it as love, wherever love is found.

    Jesus is risen from the grave. The old has passed. Lent has been long enough.

    New life – the new normal is here.

    A year ago, I thought that as a congregation we were in serious trouble. How could we survive being locked down and closed?

    As a congregation we thrive on meeting new people every year and sharing with them the open, inclusive, welcoming love of God that we proclaim in this place.

    I thought we would be facing serious decline because no-one would be turning up in lockdown.

    In fact, people have continued to turn up – online for some, in person for others.

    And there are people worshipping both online and in church this Easter who simply were not around last year.

    This is what I want to say to anyone who is discovering Jesus for the first time.

    Christians don’t always get things right. We bumble along, just like the first disciples, misunderstanding God, betraying the new life that we hope to live into and make a mess of all kinds of things.

    But we have met, in Jesus Christ, someone who has changed us and whose message matters so much more than that.

    God loved us enough to want to join in with all the mess and dirt of our world. In the person of Jesus, we get to know God with a human face.

    He shared all our sufferings and sorrows whilst he was with us on earth.

    All the reality of human struggle and human pain.

    And he is risen from the grave.

    From beyond the tomb, he calls us to live as new people. People for whom life is the new normal, love is the new normal. Joy, goodness and peace are the new normal.

    And nothing will ever be the same again.

    You want to know whether all this is true?

    Well, if Christ were not risen from the grave, we would not be gathered here.

    Especially this year.

    In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

    Amen.

9 responses to “Who we are”

  1. Susan Sheppard Hedges Avatar
    Susan Sheppard Hedges

    I have a question… What were the genders of these two persons?

    1. kelvin Avatar

      Person 1 was male. Person 2 was female.

  2. Suz Cate Avatar
    Suz Cate

    I arrived here in June, after graduating from the fine institution where you are visiting now and my subsequent ordination as transitional deacon. When I am ordained to the priesthood in December, I will be the first woman to serve as priest at St. James. I have sensed a growing excitement, especially among the women here, about the ministry of a woman priest–not unlike the the frisson expressed in the visitor’s statement: “Really? Wow! All this, and divorce and women priests.” We are figuring out together what difference it makes who we are, and on most days it is exciting!

  3. Calum Avatar
    Calum

    I think the exchange is completely adorable. But also bang-on accurate. The Piskies are indeed “the ones with woman priests” – it’s not a bad moniker to be known by, is it? Although progress is still to be made in certain parts, I think it’s positive that that might be how some people identify and distinguish Episcopalians.

  4. Tracey Avatar
    Tracey

    The first time I attended an Episcopal church (in California), and they invited me to a picnic afterward on the church grounds. I agreed to stay on, but was kind of dreading it… and then I saw the ice chests full of cans of lager. So yeah, I have to admit that it was at first beer and later, divorce (both of which had caused me to become ostracised from my family) and women priests (i’d been brought up in a fundamentalist church where women were to keep silent in church) that made me become really interested in finding my way into this wonderful, welcoming, non-judgemental, and inclusive group where hell-fire and brimstone and damnation and punishment were never a part of the lovely, uplifting and inspiring sermons.

  5. Nädine Daniel Avatar

    Well in one way, the lack of awareness is pretty depressing, but the willingness to give the Cathedral a try would be encouraging, where it not for the perception that divorce made a denomination more acceptable. Frankly I don’t care what brings someone into a Church, any Church; just so long as we make them want to stay and discover the love of Christ once they get there.

  6. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    I come to this from another angle – a liberal church background. It does not come to me as a surprise to hear women preach, teach and lead. I rejoice in it but the equality of women is no news to me

    Divorce – well, to me it is never more than an admission of failure. Not something to be celebrated and welcomed, but a sad admission that things which started so very happily and hopefully and with such love, have ended in heartbreak. That my sometime husband left me for another woman in the church came pretty close to breaking my heart, and was one of those knife-edge things. A thing where either there will be just damage and misery and loss, or one day a resurrection, and you do not know which. That for me the balance finally tipped to life does not mean that divorce is something I want to rejoice in as I do in the ministry of women.
    That God can turn evil to good is a blessing. It does not do however to continue in evil that He gets a better opportunity at such transformations. I would a jolly sight rather we were known for work for social justice, for respect for the environment, and for really positive things.

    Beauty however – whether sound or image or architecture or the spoken word – yes I love us to be known for that and I rejoice in it.

    1. kelvin Avatar

      I suspect that what we may really talking about here is not actually divorce, but the question of whether divorce and remarriage bars one from communion.

  7. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Recently our Government had the stunning idea that ‘victims’ ought to be choosing the sentences of those who had offended against them. This is my idea of a utter nightmare – to have not merely the need to undertake one’s own recovery, for which one is of course responsible, but to then have to undertake some responsibility for the rehabilitation of those who have offended one strikes me as a bridge too far. I could never ask that somebody is turned away from communion because of an offence against me, and therefore I cannot ask that they are turned away because of a sin against others. I don’t really believe in that kind of God.

    Yet there is a problem. Of all the bad moments I had over the divorce, one of the very worst was the moment I walked alone into church and saw in a prominent pew my husband, who had left but from whom I was not yet legally separated, sitting shoulder to shoulder with his new partner. I ended in the nearest pew on my knees, helplessly sobbing, unable to hide my distress. That should not happen to anybody and it should not be up to the ‘victims’ (however much we espouse a doctrine of equal blame for marriage failure) to protect themselves from such a thing.

    I took communion every week with the lady with whom my husband now lived, and every week I had to forgive her anew in order to offer the Peace and forgive her. It was, to put it mildly, a big ask. That, to me, is the essential reality of divorce, and I really, really, really do have the right to say that we may have divorce and we may have to live with it, but the reality of it is pain and hard hard work. I find no ‘Wow!’ anywhere in it. It was hard and bitter punishment for all the stupid things I had managed to do in 30 years of marriage.

    There is always a cost to be borne for such things. We believe in forgiveness and fresh starts, and I must suppose the ‘Wow!’ is for that – but such things are costly. I believe they are always costly for God, and most usually they are costly for humans too. I don’t want humans judged, but – but where the joy of person A is bought at the price of the pain of person B we need to tread exceedingly circumspectly.

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