Seeker

Today I had hoped to be on holiday in France. The Covid-19 lockdown meant that was cancelled. It's disappointing, but I'm grateful to be in a safe home with someone I love. Lots of people are coping with lesser or greater disappointments just now. Many people’s disappointments are expressed in sentences that begin, ‘We had hoped’. ‘We had hoped to go on holiday today’. ‘We had hoped to get married this Easter’. ‘We had hope to get enough PPE.’ ‘We had hoped to be there when s/he died.’ ‘We had hoped for a funeral with all the family and friends.’ Today's Gospel reading ( Luke 24: 13 – 35 ) is about 2 of Jesus’ disappointed followers. Jesus, in whom they had hoped, had been crucified. Confusion and fear added to their grief. Jesus' tomb was empty, his body missing. Women told of angels who said Jesus is alive. Cleopas and his companion didn't know what to believe. Bruised by the shock of Friday’s Crucifixion and Sunday’s disturbing rumours, they retreated to

In this first week of the 50 days of the Easter season, I am reading some of the gospel accounts of the resurrection appearances of Jesus to his disciples. My favourite is the one set for today Luke 24: 13 - 35, the story of the road to Emmaus.  It was the 1 st day of the week, when according to Luke, women went to Jesus’ tomb, saw the stone rolled away, found no body and were told by angels that Jesus had risen. They went to tell the apostles who didn’t believe them. That same day 2 of Jesus’ followers walked to Emmaus, a village a few miles from Jerusalem. One was Cleopas but Luke doesn’t name the other. She may have been his wife, possibly the same woman mentioned in John 19: 12 as one of those present at Jesus’ crucifixion. Cleopas’ companion may have been a man, but if a woman, that enriches the story for me. Not least because the experience of Cleopas and his companion shows how Jesus may make himself known to anyone through Scriptures and the Breaking of Bread. That’s not a ‘me

Easter Day 2020 feels like no other I have experienced. I am not yet feeling an overflow of Easter joy as I have experienced on some Easters in the past. I am feeling tired and conscious of others I know who are completley exhausted. I am feeling grief, some of it is my own and some is the grief of others who are recently bereaved. These feelings will pass, the long period of lockdown, of hiding away at home, will pass. There is hope. Once again, I am drawn to my favourite gospel account of the resurrection of Jesus, from John's gospel. I am struck again with the emotions which are there or implied - fear, bewilderment, grief. And then the slow dawn of recognition, that something not yet understood has changed. Death does not after all have the last word. Even through tears it is possible to see Jesus and know his prescence and love. "Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from t

This last day of Holy Week is Easter Eve or Holy Saturday. It is the day after Good Friday. On Good Friday Christians remember Jesus' crucifixion. Today, Holy Saturday, we remember that Jesus was dead and buried in a borrowed tomb in a garden. Tomorrow the great celebration of Easter begins but if we try to rush into that joy too quickly I think we miss something important. We miss entering into the desolation and grief of Jesus' mother Mary or of his close friends like Peter, John Mary Magdalene and others. We miss sharing with all who this Easter weekend are mourning the death of someone close, whether from Covid-19 or any other cause.  We miss getting in touch with our private fears, griefs and sorrows and finding a way to express them. The deepest joy is that joy that comes after tears. So, this year I have found the words of a new hymn helpful. It is designed to be sung to the well-known tune 'Abide with me'.  Ally Barrett has written this hymn fo

Here is how John's Gospel account of the crucifixion of Jesus begins in John 19: 16 - 18: "So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha.   There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them." One musical work I love to hear on Good Friday is the oratorio 'Crucifixion' by John Stainer. My favourite chorus within that is 'God so loved the world'. It is based on John 3: 16 - 17 (the King James Version): "For God so love the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,   that whosever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.   For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world: but that the world through him might be saved." Here it is sung in 2019 by the choir of St Paul's Cathedral, London. Image Credit: Pixabay, CC License

In these days of lockdown due to the coronavirus Covid-19 pandemic, we are discovering who the people are on whom are lives depend. Many of the keyworkers at this time are those least valued by society in monetary terms. I'm thinking of people like careworkers, hospital cleaners, refuse collectors, the lowest paid in food production and distribution etc. You can make your own list. When Jesus' disciples had an argument about which one of them was the greatest, Jesus placed a little child by his side as a symbol of someone less valued than those who boasted of their importance, but who should be welcomed in Jesus' name. He told them that "the least among all of you is the greatest" (Luke 9: 46 - 48 NRSV). Today is Maundy Thursday. It is the day when Christians remember the last meal that Jesus shared with his friends. John's Gospel tells us that during supper Jesus got up from the table, took off his outer garment, tied a towel around himself and began to

During the last meal that Jesus shared with his friends, Jesus declared that one of them would betray him. John's gospel (John 13: 21 - 30) tells us that "the disciples looked at one other, uncertain of whom he was speaking". Did they look around the room to identify who was most likely to be so disloyal? Did each look into their own hearts and wonder, could it be me? Eventually, one of them asked, "Lord, who is it?" Jesus did not name any of them, but said, "It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish." I can imagine each of the disciples with bated breath watching as Jesus dipped the bread, dreading to see to whom he would give it. At the head of this post is a detail of a painting of The Last Supper.  Plautilla Nelli was a 16th century nun in Florence and a painter of religious art. This image is from her enormous oil painting 'The Last Supper'. This detail  shows the moment when Jesus h

In the last week of Jesus' life, he and his disciples were in Jerusalem, along with many other people who had gone there for the Festival. In John's gospel, immediately after John's account of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jersualem, he describes how some Greeks wanted to see Jesus. So they went and told Philip,  "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Philip told Andrew about this and they both went to tell Jesus. Jesus' response to that request to see him, was surprising. Jesus did not tell Philip and Andrew that he would be happy to meet with the Greeks who wanted to see him. Instead, he talked about death, his own in particular. He seemed to be saying that the way to see Jesus is through death and by Jesus' death. Now that is something to ponder this Holy Week. "Jesus answered them, 'The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies it remains just a single gra

  6 days before Passover, Jesus shared a meal in the home of his friends Martha, Mary and Lazarus. Martha served it. Lazarus was among other men at the table. Mary's gratitude to Jesus after restoring her brother Lazarus to the household was enormous. Her love for Jesus was overwhelming. She wanted to express it. She could not have chosen a more embarrassing way do it. In an astonishingly intimate gesture Mary of Bethany anointed Jesus' feet with expensive perfumed ointment. Even more shockingly she wiped his feet with her hair.  It was inevitable that criticism would be immediate - the immodesty, the stepping out of her expected role of helping Martha to serve the meal, the waste of expensive assets instead of giving to the poor. Women simply couldn't let their hair down like that in public without being damned by 'respectable' people. You can find the story in  John 12: 1 - 11 . In a previous blog I wrote a reflection on this story and called it 'Th

On Palm Sunday 2020, when I look at this picture of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, I see it as someone in lockdown in reponse to the Covid-19 pandemic. I see it as someone who is feeling the anxiety of this present time. I see it as someone feeling both fear and hope for the future. I have previously gazed at images of this fresco, although never seen the original. It is in Assisi and was completed in 1320 by Pietro Lorenzetti. In the past, when I have pondered this image, I've noticed:  the person spreading a cloak under the hooves of the ass and her colt. I've noticed people pulling down tree branches.  I've noticed Jesus' quiet, humble but authoritative dignity. I've noticed the anxious look on the faces of some of Jesus' following disciple. And then there are the people crowding into the gateway in the city wall. Some of them seem to be asking, 'who is this?' I still see all of that and more, but my first thought on seeing this ima