Purple magnolia

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