Author: svbenefice

Gregory Dix was a priest, a monk and a historian, remembered by the Church of England. His particular passion was the development of the service of Holy Communion, the Eucharist, where the church gathers together to take consecrated bread and wine as instructed by Jesus, in remembrance of him and because they represent his body and blood. Although he died in 1951 and modern scholars might take issue with some of his views, he is justly famous for his reflection on Jesus’s command to his disciples, spoken the evening before Good Friday. I first came across his words in 1979; they continue to move me.

“[Jesus told his disciples to celebrate Holy Communion]. Was ever another command so obeyed? For century after century, spreading slowly to every continent and country and among every race on earth, this action has been done, in every conceivable human circumstance, for every conceivable human need from infancy and before it to extreme old age and after it, from the pinnacle of earthly greatness to the refuge of fugitives in the caves and dens of the earth. Men have found no better thing than this to do for kings at their crowning and for criminals going to the scaffold; for armies in triumph or for a bride and bridegroom in a little country church; …. for the wisdom of the Parliament of a mighty nation or for a sick old woman afraid to die; ….  while the lions roared in the nearby amphitheatre; on the beach at Dunkirk; while the hiss of scythes in the thick June grass came faintly through the windows of the church; tremulously, by an old monk on the fiftieth anniversary of his vows; furtively, by an exiled bishop who had hewn timber all day in a prison camp near Murmansk… —one could fill many pages with the reasons why men have done this, and not tell a hundredth part of them. And best of all, week by week and month by month, on a hundred thousand successive Sundays, faithfully, unfailingly, across all the parishes of Christendom, the pastors have done this just to make the plebs sancta Dei—the holy common people of God.”

Rev David Poyner

My sisters and brothers in Christ in the Roman Catholic Church know how to put on a spectacle. Pope-making shows this in all its splendour. The cardinals are locked into the Sistine Chapel, the decision is conveyed by a plume of white smoke and the first words that are spoken are in Latin, by a man dressed as a Roman senator. Contrast that with the committee which has been meeting since the start of the year to appoint a new Archbishop of Canterbury.  The cardinals were locked in the Sistine Chapel so that they could better discern the will of God. I’m never quite sure how that works; I am always aware that the Divine will has first to penetrate my own flawed mind. But there is a wonderful line on the BBC website about the process; how  the cardinals were to consider “not just what the institution and Catholic believers needed, but also what humanity needed at a difficult juncture, with war and division the backdrop”. I love the breath of that vision. The Church of God is for all people, believers and non-believers. I know nothing about Pope Leo, Robert Prevost, beyond what I have read this morning but my own prayer is that he, like Francis, will speak truth and hope to all.

Rev David Poyner

Thought for the week is currently on holiday in the Outer Hebides. It is a wild landscape: rough moorland, rugged coasts, sweeping beaches. A few years ago, on a similar trip when I was feeling especially pious  I recall staring at the rock forms as I walked over a beach between two islands  wondering what God was saying to me. Perhaps it would be a profound message about Exodus, crossing the waters of life? On retrospect, I think what God was actually saying to me was that I was on holiday and to lighten up a bit. So I have no profound meditations to offer, just a feeling that the next time I have to deal with an irritating memo from a senior member of clergy, I will be better able to do this because of a week away not doing anything. God moves in a mysterious way.

Rev David Poyner

Give thanks for the life of Pope Francis, for his humility and leadership. Pray for all who mourn him as friend.

Pray for all those who seek to reform the church, to make it more truly Christ-like. Remember the cardinals who are meeting to select a successor for Francis; pray also for the committee who are working to appoint the next Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Pray for peace in the world, especially the negotiations about Ukraine; ask that there may be a just settlement.

Pray for the Christians of Sri Lanka, ranked 61st in the list of countries where Christians suffer persecution and discrimination. Give thanks for the work of Open Doors as it supports the persecuted church.

Like many, I was surprised by the suddenness of the death of Pope Francis, just a day after his public appearance in St Peters and a  meeting with the US vice-president. I did however think that dying the day after the Church celebrates the resurrection of Jesus and the triumph over the grave was in itself, a strong message of hope. The death of Francis has deeply affected many and its widespread reporting, together with the speculation about his successor, sends a  message that religion is still powerful. I liked Francis. I admired the intellect of his predecessor, Benedict, less his conservative instincts. Francis seemed to me to be a natural reformer; a man in pursuit of a vision of how the church should be. I think Francis’s church was not about power and authority; one of our own Anglcan bishops, Guli Francis-Dehqani has spoken of how it is rarely at its best when it is in that position. Instead Francis wanted the church to show to those around it the love that God shows to us. And he lived this in his own life of humility. He was once asked to describe himself; he replied “a sinner”.

Rev David Poyner

I am writing this on Good Friday morning. Later today, at a service at Chelmarsh, probably alone at Billingsley, I will stand before a cross, I will read the story of the crucifixion from one of the Gospels and I will cover the cross in a shroud. Then, on EasterSunday morning, I will remove the shroud as I read the story of how the women who followed Jesus found the tomb empty. There are two stories bound up in Easter and its cross. Our story is with the people who feature in it; some faithful but despairing like the women, some discovering unwelcome truths about themselves like the disciples who fled, Judas who betrayed Jesus. The cross confronts us with all the elements that make us the people we are; some admirable, some not. But the other story is that of the cross itself, or rather the person who was nailed to it. Jesus was a man but Jesus was also God. God’s story is, that knowing full well the complex people we are, he comes to meet us and through death and resurrection, he shows us that we can become the people we should be. The Good Friday cross carrying Jesus speaks of challenge to us, the shrouded Easter Saturday cross speaks of mystery to us, the empty Easter Sunday cross speaks of hope and new life. 

Rev David Poyner

As we enter Holy Week, vicars throughout the land will be focusing on how to bring the Easter message to anyone they come across, to explain the significance of Good Friday and Easter Sunday to believers and nonbelievers alike. I am going for a rather different approach. This Sunday (13th), in the first of our monthly 6pm Sunday evening events, on Palm Sunday, we will be celebrating the Easter Bunny. Spoiler alert; as far as I can see, the Easter Bunny has never had any connection with Easter, but to learn more, you will need to come on Sunday… But if you can’t make the service, my advice would be to make the most of the fine weather and go for a walk, or just sit out in the countryside, even just your back garden and enjoy the time. Believers can try too hard to be holy. You might spot some real bunnies, who I am sure will be equally clueless as to how they got dragged into Easter. But as you enjoy your walk, or your sitting and let your mind wander, you might just feel uplifted, free of everyday distraction. And in that time when you are taken out of yourself, whether in the company of rabbits or not, you may just become aware of what I call God. 

Rev David Poyner

There has been much comment on the recent 5^th anniversary of the Covid outbreak; lockdown and all that followed.  I totally underestimated the severity of the disease when it first broke. I remember the shock at hearing of the first death of someone I knew; a distinguished scientist only a few years older than me. In our area, we escaped fairly lightly; I only did one Covid funeral.  But I had a sharp reminder of how potentially dangerous the disease was when, many months into the outbreak when it was clearly being controlled, a parishioner lost a relative who was much younger than myself. I still find that shocking. 

So where was God? Living through the crisis was a sharp reminder that natural disasters  happen; an unwelcome insight into the pain and bewilderment so many people have to face in what seem like far-away places. As I write, I think of Myanmar and Thailand. I  am appalled at those who try and present these events as acts of punishment by a stern God. There are indeed places in the Bible where that view can be found, but Jesus seems to have rejected it. Crises like Covid pose problems for those who see God as a micromanager. The best I can do is to accept that if God choses to work through evolution by natural selection, it is inevitable that sometimes unpleasant viruses will appear. God sets up his rules, she must then work by them if we are truly to be free. But even in the depth of crisis God continues to work; the Holy Spirit will still move. In Covid, the self-help groups, the support that otherwise remote neighbours gave each other, the love that was shown, was all of God and from God, even if most people were not aware of it. Ubi caritas et amor, deus ibi est. Where there is charity and love, there God is.

Rev David Poyner

I once forgot Mothering Sunday. It only happened once; I still carry the memory… Mum didn’t say a word to me about it; I only found out because a week or so after an uncle pointed out to me that she had noticed the omission. He suggested a suitable form of remediation; I can’t remember what it was but all I know is that it worked and Mum was delighted. 

Mothering Sunday has a reputation amongst vicars as being a potentially difficult day for a service. It should be a celebration, but for some it is not. It can stir unhappy memories, it can reignite grief. I am fortunate that neither apply to me; I got on well with Mum when she was alive and now enjoy good memories. I gratefully accept any bouquet of flowers that I am given at Mothering Sunday services and tend them on her behalf. But perhaps the most important thing for me is that it reminds me what I learnt from the day I forgot it; the importance of attending to detail for the sake of others, the grace I was shown by Mum when I forgot. Thanks Mum!

Rev David Poyner

We have recently nominated a Wednesday lunchtime at work as a time to meet over a cup of tea and chat about whatever we want. Sometimes it may be about science, when people can share their joy (or disappointment) at their latest results. However, this week I had a lengthy conversation with a colleague about Latin. It arose out of some banter we had shared earlier in the week, about the word “viva”, used in universities to mean an oral examination, but which is a Latin term. It turned out that both of us had done Latin at school; I took it for O-level, my colleague wanted to do the same but her parents thought it was of no use and made her do German instead.  Quite a few years later, she still has a passion for Latin but has forgotten most of her German. I also enjoy Latin; I am not very good at it, but being able to get some sense from a Latin inscription written hundreds of years ago helps me connect with the person who wrote it. Of course, I do not have to do this, but I enjoy it. My colleague is thinking about taking up Latin again as she loves it so much. We  owe our identity not just to the “useful” things we do, the objectives which can be measured, but to all our activities including the “useless”. Thes things make us rounded people and they are vital (note the Latin root). As the 2nd century Christian teacher Irenaeus wrote  (in Latin), “The glory of God is a human being fully alive”.

Rev David Poyner