Purple magnolia

A sermon preached by the Rev’d Natasha Woodward At St Paulinus Church, Crayford Sunday 23 December 2007 Advent 4 Are you ready for Christmas? Have you done it all? Sometimes December seems like the longest month –Christmas parties and shopping and presents and cooking and friends and families - it's amazing how much happens in one month. For the children the 24 days before Christmas can seem like the longest time in the world. It is just sooooooo exciting. Children get excited about Christmas only when they're old enough to remember what it is about – they know what they are expecting – lots of presents, food and celebration. The waiting is unbearable because they know they are expecting something good. Waiting is so often about uncertainty, even when we think we know what we're waiting for. There is that book "What to expect when you're expecting" about what kinds of things normally happen during pregnancy. It's a funny name – we know what a pregna

A sermon preached at St Paulinus on Sunday 8 July 2007 (Trinity 5), 8am Mass. Readings: Isaiah 66.10-14, Psalm 66.1-8, Galatians 6.7-16, Luke 10.1-11, 16-20 Our readings today contain a verse which is the inspiration for a very unusual religious practice. The verse from Luke: Jesus says "See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions..." Some very small cults or supposedly Christian groups in America and Canada have seen in this verse, and in a similar one in Mark's gospel, an invitation to literally handle snakes. On the basis of 2 verses they believe that Jesus commanded them to deliberately handle poisonous snakes. Their view is that it is a proof of faith – they can do these things without fear of danger because God will protect them. Occasionally it doesn't seem to work. Those who handle the snakes and are bitten and indeed die – for it does happen – are said to have lacked sufficient faith. It's not just snakes either, there are gro

A sermon preached at St Paulinus, Crayford Sunday 17 June 2007, 8am and 10am Mass 2 Samuel 11.26 - 12.10, 13-15; Psalm 32; Galatians 2.15 - 21; Luke 7.36 - 8.3 "But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord." Words from our first reading. David was king. He saw a woman – Bathsheba – who he fancied a great deal. She was married, but her husband was away in battle, so David had her brought to him. He thought her husband would never find out. Unfortunately for David, Bathsheba became pregnant. Since her husband Uriah was away in battle for many months, it would be obvious that the baby wasn't his. So after various attempts to solve his problem, David eventually succeeded in getting Uriah killed. What he did, was that deliberately send Uriah to the hardest part of the battle, and commanded the other soldiers to withdraw to leave Uriah alone on the battlefield surrounded by enemies – there was no doubt he would be killed. This was the thing that displeased the

Talk given on Wednesday 13 June, 2007, 9.30am Mass, with Year 1 in attendance Saint Anthony of Padua was born about 800 years ago in Portugal. He became a friar when he was just 15, and in his community they all lead a very simple life, with no possessions. St Anthony decided that he wanted to do something big, something impressive for God. He decided that he might be a martyr. He thought he might die for his faith. A bit strange. So St Anthony set out to travel to a part of North Africa which is now Morocco, where at that time some of his fellow friars had been murdered for sharing their Christian faith. Here, he thought, he could do something really impressive for God. Here he would try to convert people to the Christian faith, and because some people probably wouldn't like that very much, he might become a martyr. [Note: St Anthony's private intentions have been imagined for this purpose: there were certainly people around who had this view of martyrdom as something

Given at all-age worship at 10am on Pentecost, Sunday 26 May 2007 First we learned how to say hello in different languages.... I don't know most of the languages that we've used today. But I still know what you all meant when you were just calling out. We were speaking in different languages, but we could still understand each other. That's what it was like on that first Pentecost, the birthday of the church. It wasn't that everyone started speaking the same language. They didn't all become the same. But they discovered they could understand each other – despite their different backgrounds, and coming from all over the known world, they had something in common, but it didn't make them all the same – wherever they were from, whether they were rich or poor, whatever languages they spoke. We're not all the same either – see how many different people are here, and what variety we have. God's spirit which came at that first Pentec

A reflection given at 9.30am Mass on Wednesday 23 May 2007 (With Year 4) In our gospel reading Jesus was praying. We talk a lot about praying, but we don't always know what it means. Sometimes praying can be asking God to do things. But praying can also be very different from that. So today for this part of the service, we're going to pray in a different kind of way. Instead of closing our eyes, we're going to keep them open. We're going to look at something. We're going to look at something that we always have in church during our services and we also always have it at school during assemblies. You don't only get them in church or school though. Sometimes you have them on the table when you have a fancy meal, maybe in a restaurant or at home. You also get them on a birthday cake.... We're going to talk about praying with a candle today because we use them so much in church – but also because we're coming up to the end of Easter, the time when we have t

A sermon given on the Feast of the Ascension, 17 May 2007 12pm Mass, St Paulinus Crayford 7pm Choral Eucharist, St Peter's Eaton Square Readings: Acts 1:1-11; Ephesians 1: 15-23; Luke 24: 44-53. It's springtime, the weather's a little warmer, and it's that time of year when we irrationally expect it not to rain. England's gardens are springing forth with all that they have. We are drawn outside, even if the weather isn't quite up to it: nothing that is inside can be as compelling as a duck with her ducklings, a uniquely springtime pleasure. These are also pleasures of Eastertide. Traditionally, the church rings this change in season in different ways. We've just had Rogation Sunday, the traditional time for beating the bounds of the parish, a lovely time for processions and picnics, for going out and blessing the parish and whatever is in it, people, animals, cars, houses... – as some churches still do. Ascension Day itself is a popular time for outdo

A sermon preached at St Paulinus, Crayford 8am Mass, 5th Sunday of Easter, 8 May 2007 Acts 11.1-18 ; Revelation 21.1-6; John 13.31-35 Our reading from Revelation earlier is one of those ones that might be extremely familiar to you already. There are some beautiful musical settings of these words, and it is also a favorite reading for funerals. Already in my short time of taking funerals, it has become imprinted word for word on my memory. I think it's normally chosen for funerals for the words "God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more: mourning and crying and pain will be no more." They are strong, comforting words for such a setting. These words are beautiful, and understandable: we might think we can – just about – grasp what they might mean. There will be no more pain. But these "understandable" words have a very strange context. They are within John's description of his vision of the future, a vision he can barely describ

Preached at St Paulinus on Easter Sunday, 8 April 2007, 10am Mass. You may have heard on the news that Somerfield did a survey of its customers to find out how much or how little their customers knew about the real meaning of Easter. Unfortunately, Somerfield revealed quite a lot about its understanding of Easter, when in its press release it said that people were ignorant of the fact that Easter eggs celebrate the birth of Jesus. Now, you might groan, I did when I heard this. But I've been thinking that this typo that some poor employee of Somerfield made, is unwittingly revealing, and perhaps should cause a rethink. Eggs are about birth, actually – in an obvious way, we all come from eggs : and so in one way it should indeed be more natural to associate eggs with Christmas rather than Easter. So I have a proposal to make. That at Eastertime, instead of eggs, we give and consume fruit. But lest there be a revolution, I'll allow it to be fruit made out of chocolate. Wh

Preached at St Paulinus on Maundy Thursday, 6 April 2007, 8pm Mass Why was Jesus betrayed by Judas? Those who wanted to arrest Jesus did not need help to find him. Jesus says himself, "Have you come out with swords and clubs as if I were a bandit? When I was with you day after day in the temple you did not lay hands on me." (Luke 22.52 – 53). He was not the least bit secret in what he did, the authorities had no need of Judas: the arrest could have happened without Judas' help. So why is Judas involved? I think it happens this way, so that Judas was at the last supper. It can be easy to forget sometimes, as we are so familiar with the last supper, and we rehearse it so often at communion, that these words "This is my body" "This is my blood" were said to a group of people, a group which was falling apart, a weak group of people. Tonight the disciples fail to accompany Jesus in prayer in Gethsemane. Tonight, one of them betrays Jesus. There

A meditation given at St Paulinus on Holy Wednesday, 4 April 2007, 9.30am Mass. I wonder what made Judas join the group of disciples in the first place. Perhaps (like most of us, I suspect) he initially fell in with Jesus' crowd not so much out of conviction as circumstance. Perhaps he was dissatisfied with his previous life, lonely, searching for something, unemployed maybe - and welcomed the chance to become part of this group. That stuff they believed – well, he wasn't too sure about that – there was certainly some good teaching there – but more important for him - here was a chance to make a living, of sorts. He was pleased to be accepted as part of the group Judas was a quiet disciple, until the last few days of Jesus' life. He does the things that they all do. They lived together, ate together, talked together. Judas makes the mistakes of them all – when they don't understand Jesus, when they argue with each other – and he shares in the joys of all, for ex

A reflection given at St Paulinus on Holy Tuesday, 3 April 2007, 8pm Mass. Peter, also known as Simon, plays a strangely peripheral part in the events of this week: strange for someone who was to become so important. He doesn't perform any of the key actions in what happens to Jesus – characters like Judas, Pilate and Herod are much more important. Peter – as a human being – was I'm sure all too aware of his own failures. He knows that he's gotten so many things wrong before. He knows that Jesus got angry with him when he said that he didn't want him to die. Jesus called him "Satan", and a "stumbling-block." (Matt 16.23) He knows that he said exactly the wrong thing up on the mount of transfiguration, when he suggested building tents for Moses and Elijah and Jesus. He knows that he isn't worth much – and yet Jesus has all these high expectations of him: Jesus said to Peter "You are Peter, the Rock; and on this rock I will build my chur

A meditation given at St Paulinus on Holy Monday, 2 April 2007, 8pm Mass. "Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead." What was it like for Lazarus? Lazarus – we read in John - died of an unnamed illness; and I think it's safe to assume that he died younger than average. So from his point of view, he's been in pain perhaps, lying on his bed, not knowing what was going to happen, seeing the worry on the faces of the people around him. As he flits in and out on consciousness, at some point he sleeps finally, he dies. And then – what happens – he wakes up. I guess feels well. Where is he? He's lying on something cold and hard – not the bed he went to sleep in. It's very quiet. He's got some fabric – a bandage or something - wrapped around his face. But through the folds he can see that he's in a cave or something. It's dark, but there's light streaming in from the entrance.

Notes from a homily given on Wednesday 22 March, 9.30am Mass. Luke 15.1 – 3, 11b - 32 [from the 4 th Sunday of Lent] Sometimes we can be like that second son, who runs away from home, runs away from his responsibilities until one day he wakes up his money's run out, he's hungry, and he's lost his friends Comes back to his father – not at first because he realises he's done wrong, or because he wants to make amends but because he realises he needs his help, he needs a job. He asks only to be treated as a servant. But he finds so much more is there for him he finds that he has indeed returned home that that loving home and his father's love which he thought he could never come back to, was still there for him. Sometimes we can be like the second son. Sometimes we can be like the first son. He's hardworking and diligent. He's stayed while his brother ran away. Perhaps he loves his father and has always

A sermon given at St Paulinus Church , Crayford Sunday 4 March 2007 , 10am Mass Second Sunday of Lent, Year C Genesis 15.1–12, 17-18; Psalm 27; Philippians 3.17-4.1; Luke 13.31-35 I'd like you to do a bit of brainstorming, as we begin. Do you have any role models? People who you especially admire? If you think of the children you know, who do you think their role models are? Perhaps you are a role model for your child – which is a bit scary... Who do you want to be like. I shall return to this in a moment. In Lent we are called to practice holiness; we are, through disciplines such as prayer and fasting, to become better disciples of Christ, to become more holy. Well, in a literal way, holy means nothing more than something has something to do with God. Something or someone is holy if it or he or she has something to do with God. In that sense, the most general sense, everything is holy, because everything was created by God. (This is

Preached at St Paulinus, at the 10.30am Eucharist on Ash Wednesday. "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." These are the words that will be said later in this service, as the sign of the cross is made in ash on our foreheads. I wonder what those words make you think of. "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return." Some might think they're depressing words, expressing futility. But I think that is to see them out of context – in the context of faith, of this service, this mass, which is all about the reality of God who came and lived among us. In this context, here and now, I think these words can be truly inspirational words of comfort. They express the reality of our utter dependence on God – these words would be depressing indeed if there were no God: but with God they are utterly transformed. Those words will said as we receive the sign of the cross in ash. The ash we use to make the sign of the cross this day isn't ju

A sermon preached at St Paulinus, Crayford Sunday 18 February 2007 Sunday next before Lent, Year C Our faces say a lot about us. In our faces we can sometimes see the family history – even in little babies we can often see the father's nose, or whatever, and for some those family resemblances can be very strong. As we grow up our faces change. We grow, but experiences leave their mark: injuries leave their scars, and smiles and frowns leave their lines. Some evidence of who we are – of where we've come from and the experiences we've had – is left on our faces. If you can't see someone's face, if they are wearing a mask, you can't tell who they are, their identity is concealed, it's impossible to communicate properly. It's because faces are such an important part of how we communicate; who we seem to be to others that it is so upsetting when someone experiences disfigurement or injury – it is almost as though some of one's identity is lost. Our

A sermon given on 5 July 2006 at Longlevens, Gloucester, for The Rev’d Tom Clammer’s fist Mass. Tom has chosen an unusual but beautiful theme for tonight's Eucharist. But perhaps, like me, at some stage you have felt a little uneasy with it, wondering "what are we supposed to believe about angels." Angels are not – normally – mentioned in confirmation classes, or alpha courses, or the pulpit. You might be forgiven for thinking we don't really have angels in the church of England, And yet, references to them permeate our worship and scripture, and it is reasonable to ask, what is it all about? There is very little really that we must say about angels. Theologians down the ages have had different views, depending on their other views about the world and God. It seems to me the most important thing that one can say is that an angel has a deep and essential relationship with God, deeper than anything we can achieve in this life: you might say that while we, if our op

A sermon given on Sunday 4 February 2007 (Year C, 3 before Lent) 8am Eucharist Readings: Isaiah 6.1-8, Psalm 138, 1 Cor 15.1-11, Luke 5.1-11 This morning we've heard my favourite passage from the whole Bible. (It might be interesting to hear how many different passages I say that about over the next three years, but for now this is definitely my favourite!) It's the Old Testament reading from Isaiah, a passage known as the "call of Isaiah". Within the story of that book, this is the moment when the prophet Isaiah realised that God was calling him to be a prophet, and the moment that he accepted that call. Now the book of Isaiah, as we have it in our bibles, was almost certainly written by several groups of people many centuries apart, so we can't really know who it was who had this vision, but that does not affect the power of this story, this vision, which in visual form contains as much theology as any passage of scripture. So Isaiah – whoever it was who wro