Author: svbenefice

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

I am writing this the morning after the partial eclipse of the moon, the spectacular “blood moon” that turns red and disappears as it  passes into the earth’s shadow. I didn’t see it, largely because I think it happened early in the morning when I was asleep and in any case it was cloudy. However, many years ago I did seen a lunar eclipse and it was beautiful. A few weeks ago I did gaze out on the planetary procession, to see Mars, Jupiter, Venus and Mercury. I am not really into astronomy, but I enjoyed looking at the planets; even last night before I went to bed, I was struck by the red glow in the clouds around the moon when I could see it.

In times gone by, the doings of the stars and the planets were given supernatural significance; we see this in the Bible and it is still present in some form with horoscopes and astrology. Of course, science has given us a much deeper understanding of what is actually happening; the universe is ruled by the laws of physics. But my instinctive reaction to seeing the planets, or colours in the night sky, is awe; I am most deeply moved by the beauty of what I see. As a Christian, intellectually I believe that behind the laws of physics is God, who chooses to work through them. But more  than that, I respond to that God with my emotions and that is the same response that I have to the night sky. The heavens can indeed tell of the glory of God when they speak to us of awe and beauty.

Rev David Poyner

It has been a depressing week to follow the news. We seem to be entering a new world of international relationships, where old conventions no longer hold. Even more worryingly, there seems to be in some a hankering after autocratic leaders who disregard any interests other than their own and listen to no one. There is of course an argument that people need to be confronted with realities with vigorous argument, but even in these cases, there still needs to be an element of dialogue. At some point, the various sides do need to listen to each other, no matter how forcibly they press their own point of view. This morning (Friday 7^th March) I heard “Thought for the Day”, in which the Rev Giles Fraser spoke convincingly about the importance of good argument. However strongly we feel about our own position, we gain if we allow ourselves to be challenged. It may be that as a result of that, we hold our views even more firmly, but at least we know that we have tested our position and have greater confidence that it is correct. Of course, there is also the possibility that we may modify our views after being challenged. As a vicar, I am aware that the Bible is often a book of contradictions; its writers frequently disagree. It’s readers are the richer for this as they weigh the arguments. In open argument, truth is the winner.

Rev David Poyner

SPHEREX,  a powerful new telescope, is being launched into space in the next few days. All galaxies emit a form of radiation invisible to the human eye known as infra-red radiation and this is what SPHEREX observes. By measuring this, we can learn about the origins both of the galaxies and the universe. Thus the telescope is on a journey to learn about the physical centre of all things. Co-incidentally, this coming week marks the start of Lent with Ash Wednesday, 5^th March. After Shrove Tuesday (pancake day), traditionally Christians observe 40 days of reflection, marking the time that Jesus is said to have spent in the wilderness at the start of his ministry, as he pondered what form it should take. If Lent features at all in the popular imagination these days it is a time of denial, of giving up items, often luxuries such as chocolate or alcohol. That can be part of it, but it is much more than a life-style choice. Jesus went into the wilderness to go on a journey with God, deep inside himself, to learn what form his mission on earth should take. The real point of Lent is that Christians are called to go on that same journey; to explore the spiritual centre of themselves. Just as SPHEREX will enrich us by gazing into the physical universe, Lent can enrich us by helping us to gaze deep into our souls.

Rev David Poyner

As a single person, I am used to silence; as an introvert, I positively relish it. Silence is however rarely total. As I write this, alone, I am aware of the wind blowing outside, the faint hum from the central heating in the house. One of the most magical silences I regularly experience is being alone in a church; to hear the birdsong, the bleating of sheep, perhaps less romantically, the sound of traffic or a plane in the sky. As a vicar, I wish I could tell you that this is when I hear God speaking to me. I don’t and the more I try to be holy, the worse it gets. The silence is broken in my head by a babble of voices as I relive past triumphs and disasters. Better just to enjoy the silence. But, as a vicar, I also believe that God is ever-present. God enjoys silence as much as I do; it is not necessary for him/her to be constantly chattering to me. Somehow through that very silence when I am simply enjoying it, God is transfusing into me and strengthening me. The language of God is indeed silence.

Rev David Poyner