Some encounters stay with us because they affect us deeply, they leave us changed. Some moments of transition will have opened up new opportunities and challenges; others are painful experiences which shape our being. At Epiphany the Church celebrates the showing forth of the Christ-child to the Magi. The wise men had observed an astonishing astronomical sign and were prompted to embark on a journey. T.S. Eliot emphasises the physical demands and difficulty of their travels in Journey of the Magi. The end of the journey brings with it a transforming encounter. The Magi would never be the same again: we returned to our places, these Kingdoms, but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation.

Their encounter was an epiphany: Christ’s coming had been made public, God had been manifested, shown forth. The Magi had arrived expecting to find a king in a palace. Instead they find a child in the most humble of surroundings. Epiphany: God’s glory revealed in a child; Epiphany: the revelation of God’s love and glory for all peoples. Yet the Magi were puzzled, as Eliot puts it: were we led all that way for birth or death?

The wise men brought gifts with them to honour the new born king: gold, frankincense and myrrh. Such gifts are re-interpreted in the presence of Christ. Gold was an appropriate gift for a king, a symbol of wealth. In the hands of Jesus, wealth is challenged by divine wisdom. Incense stood for worship, a symbol of honour and worth. In Christ’s life it becomes a sign of sacrifice. Myrrh was for healing, or embalming. In the birth of Christ, a death is foretold.

God’s glory is manifested to us in various and unexpected places. Sometimes it is the brightness of a star calling us onwards; sometimes we glimpse glory in vulnerability and humility. There is wonder is both. Glimpsing glory is only the beginning of a journey; a journey of faith during which God will manifest himself to us, change us, challenge us. In The Spire over the coming months, we hope to include some personal reflections on moments that have been significant for us, or something that has made a difference to us. You are invited to contribute a response to an event, encounter, or experience. This month, some of those who were confirmed recently will share some of their thoughts and feelings.

Arise, shine out, for your light has come,
the glory of the Lord is rising upon you.
The nations will come to your light,
and kings to your dawning brightness.
But the Lord will be your everlasting light,
your God will be your splendour.

May we walk with the Magi this epiphanytide; may we encounter Christ; may we have the grace follow him and discern his glory in the future.

All of these things have roots in the Christian tradition.

Primarily the focus of Lent is upon the preparation for the celebration of Christ’s death and resurrection in Holy Week and Easter. In the early church, the season of Lent was first observed by those preparing for baptism during the Easter liturgy. Subsequently those who had been excommunicated from the Church undertook a period of penance before being readmitted to the church’s sacramental life at Easter. However, the church as a whole began to see the benefit of having an extended period of preparation before Easter. Prayer and fasting became an expression of penitence. Rather than inducing misery, such a time of preparation gives a greater sense of expectation as we approach Holy Week and Easter.

The idea that we should give things up in Lent is not something done for the sake of it, but it is part of our preparation. Lenten worship is distinctive because we omit, or give up, certain elements of our liturgy. The Gloria in Excelsis is not sung during the Eucharist; there are no flowers in church; the word Alleluia is omitted in our hymns and readings because such an expression of joy will be used to greet our risen Lord on Easter Day.

Fasting during Lent would originally involved abstaining from food until the evening of each day. The idea was that by abstaining from something we come to appreciate the real value or pleasure of it. It also focuses the mind on the things that really matter, on our spiritual life rather than physical preoccupations. Indeed the ritual of marking a cross on the forehead in ash reminds us of our own mortality, of human brokenness; it reminds us that God is the source of our wholeness. God does not despise our frailty and shortcomings, drawing near to him in our faith and our doubt is enough.

Alongside fasting Lent provides other opportunities for spiritual reflection, the nurturing of our relationships with God and one another. In recent years, sharing in Lent study or prayer groups
has been an important dimension of this. It gives us the opportunity to come together, to focus on God’s desire for our lives. This year we are invited to join with our brothers and sisters at St. Francis de Sales to reflect on the theme of reconciliation. This Lent we will also be supporting the Bishops’ Lent Appeal for health care in southern Africa. This too focuses our minds on the way in which we use our own resources and live out the Gospel message. As we reflect on the purposes of God and his commandment to love one another, we will bear much fruit.

Blessed is the man who meditates day and night on the law of the lord: he will yield fruit in due season. Psalm 1:3

Our liturgy on Palm Sunday combines both triumph and tragedy. As we gather with palms, the procession comes into church reminding us of the exuberant demonstration of praise which greeted Christ as a king as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. The palm crosses, which we are given, are more than a keepsake. They symbolise the fact that those who sang ‘Hosanna’ to the Son of David turn against Christ, shouting ‘crucify him’. Our small crosses provide us with a focus as we begin the journey of Holy Week.

A new commandment I give to you,
that you love one another, as I have loved you.

On Maundy Thursday we celebrate the inauguration of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. It is a liturgy of contrasts as we reflect on Christ’s loving service, and remember the night on which he was betrayed. Maundy comes from the Latin mandatum: Christ’s commandment, or mandate, that we should love one another. The profundity of this call to love is demonstrated by the representation of John’s narrative of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. We are called to follow Christ’s example of humility. We are called to proclaim the message of the Kingdom, and we do this by demonstrating loving service. At the end of the service we are called to follow Christ into the darkness of the night; we are called to watch and wait at Gethsemane.

By his wounds we have been healed.

According to John’s Gospel, the cross is seen as the moment when God’s glory is revealed. Whether in the children’s liturgy or in our Three Hours Devotion on Good Friday we are drawn together to contemplate this mystery. In the singing of hymns, in the times of reflection and silence we enter more deeply into the finished work of Christ, his death and resurrection. We contemplate the power of love, humility and goodness to overcome the destructiveness of that which is evil. We find ourselves confronted with the challenge of the crucified Lord in our lives, and in our world, today.

May the light of Christ, rising in glory,
banish all darkness from our hearts and minds.

Easter Eve, also known as Holy Saturday, is a time of silent waiting and anticipation. Between our commemoration of our Lord’s death, and the kindling of the new fire which marks the start of Easter the church waits. In darkness. In silence. Then we glimpse the dawning light of Christ’s resurrection glory. On Easter Day we gradually allow that light to flow into the dark and silent places of our own hearts and minds. As Rowan Williams describes it: ‘to speak of resurrection is... to speak of one’s own humanity as healed, renewed and restored, recentred - in God’. This is a process, rather than a completed state, in which our worship and our discipleship is renewed as we recognise our risen Lord in the breaking of bread.

Alleluia! Christ is risen.
He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

In these stories we see that the risen Christ meets his friends and followers where there are. He isn’t to be found waiting for them in the empty tomb. He is to be found in the empty spaces of their lives. He draws near to them in the midst of grief, terror, loneliness, disbelief and distress. Christ addresses their anguish and confusion by calling them by name. He speaks to them of love and peace; he comforts, challenges and transforms them. The resurrection is not a neat reversal of the pain and darkness of all that went before, but an invitation to continue the story of the power of God’s love. The risen Christ extends that invitation to us today.

In Luke 24 we hear of how that invitation is brought to two disciples who had decided to leave Jerusalem. They felt disillusioned and shattered. On their way to Emmaus they discuss the trial and death of Jesus. Perhaps, like us, the replayed the events of their lives searching for a different outcome; trying to spot where it when wrong; analysing what they could have done.

Jesus had seemed to them to have been fulfilling the words of the prophets. In his teaching and ministry he proclaimed good news to the poor, release for the captive, recovery sight to the blind, and freedom for the oppressed. They learnt from him, ate with him and witnessed his powerful proclamation of God’s love. Then he was betrayed, arrested, condemned, killed and buried.

Yet the whole city is buzzing with perplexing rumours of resurrection. The two disciples are unable to make sense of it. It is then that Christ draws near to them. He appears as a stranger, unrecognizable. He does not force his presence upon them. He simply asks them what they are talking about. He meets them in confusion and allows them to tell the story as they see it. It is only then that he begins to explain the Scriptures to them.

The disciples invite their companion to stay with them, to share in rest and refreshment with them. They invite him to eat with them. They sit together. Food and wine is brought to their dimly lit table; then the guest becomes the host. He takes the bread; he breaks it; he shares it with them. They recognize their risen Lord. He is present with them.

Immediately Christ departs. The disciples do not sit back in relief and complacency; they do not rejoice in a personal experience of resurrection encounter. They have received an invitation to something richer, more challenging, more urgent. They are called to return to Jerusalem to become Church; to become the Body of Christ in and for the world. The Acts of the Apostles recounts how the disciples share in prayer, breaking of the bread and fellowship. We hear how they receive Christ’s spirit of peace and how they embark upon a mission of proclamation of love, justice and mercy.

In this season of Eastertide, those two disciples should be for us an encouragement and example. We too encounter our risen Lord in bread and wine at the Eucharist. He meets us where we are. He calls us by name. He invites us to share that presence with others. We are called to stand with the oppressed, the suffering, the marginalized in solidarity. We are called to join in Christ’s mission of love and justice. That is why it is appropriate that the Global Week of Action on Trade falls within Eastertide.

The resurrection offers us an encounter and assurance, but Christ also invites us to share in an urgent challenge. We are still called to act on the words of St. Ambrose, writing in the 4th century: It is not from your own possessions that you are bestowing alms on the poor, you are but restoring to them what is theirs by right. For what was given to everyone for the use of all, you have taken for your exclusive use. The earth belongs not to the rich, but to everyone. Thus, far from giving lavishly, you are but paying part of your debt.

Just as Lent endured for 40 days (recalling the 40 days of Christ in the wilderness and the 40 years of the Israelites in the wilderness of Sinai) so Eastertide lasts for 40 days of celebration and our final alleluias are uttered on Ascension Day when the church celebrates her conviction that the risen Christ ascends to fill the universe with the truth of his undying love. Ascension Day is not so much about vertical movement, and is certainly not some quaint or anachronistic celebration of Jesus, rocket-like, shooting off into the heavens, but rather Ascension Day is about the filling of our worlds with the love of God. I use the word worlds advisedly. For Ascension Day reminds us that Christ fills all those overlapping parts of our humanity, our personal world, our family world, our work world, our leisure world, our geographical world. Hence the reason that I believe it is a happy coincidence that the General Election day falls on Ascension Day. For if we are truly committed in believing that our faith in the risen Christ affects every part of our living then it must affect the way in which we live together in our community and constituency, in our country and across the globe.

The archbishop of Canterbury was surely right in his open letter to the leaders of the political parties in asking that we consider in our voting the big issues of the future of our world, of the way in which we treat the vulnerable and poor, in abandoning the politics of fear and hatred and seeking to make a substantial and sustainable difference to our global village. So I would certainly urge you to vote responsibly and prayerfully, considering what your cross on the ballot paper may do for not only yourself but for our community, our country and our globe. And perhaps it is a good sign that we use a cross on the ballot paper for it is, of course, mirroring a cross which each of us receives on our head in baptism, that there should be integrity between our faith in the crucified and risen Christ and the way we exercise our responsibility of living in a community by voting not out of habit or fear but out of a conviction guided by prayer, worship and service. Of course, General Election day being on Ascension Day also has the advantage that, if you live within the Hampton Hill ward, you will be voting in our church hall. So why not come and vote by 7.45 p.m. and simply come into church for the celebration of parish communion at 8.00 p.m. which will be followed by a party and fireworks in the vicarage garden marking our culmination of alleluias at the end of Eastertide and our conviction that it is right to celebrate the universal love of God just as the wine fills our glasses and the fireworks fill the sky with their light? We look forward to seeing you going into the hall to vote, coming into church to pray and into the vicarage garden to celebrate.

It really is a rather mad type of event because unlike the blockbuster ‘Monet Whistler Turner’ or ‘Caravaggio’ exhibitions it doesn’t feature the works of any one world famous artist nor does it even specialise in any one visual medium – it contains watercolour, oils, sculpture, architecture and much more, all created by a huge variety of people who express themselves through their own art form. Anyone, absolutely anyone, can submit a work for the Viewing Committee to consider, and each year literally thousands of hopefuls send in a piece of their labour. Our own Hannah Stanton was featured in a fine portrait displayed in the Summer Exhibition in the late 1920s.

Rather like the General Election we have just witnessed, the Summer Exhibition is a huge expression of every participant’s quest after truth. In an election we vote for those we feel will most ably work for the truth, hopes and vision we cherish. In the Summer Exhibition we see the truth, hopes and vision of the thousands of artists whose work is displayed. Like both elections and art the call of God, which Jesus embodies, asks us to display our reaction to the truth, hope and vision we find in him.

And by the time you read this we shall be not only in summer, but also in the period of the year which the church calls Pentecost. At Pentecost thousands of eyes were opened, hearts stirred, lives challenged and changed as the truth about this Jesus of Nazareth, the ultimate window onto God, became available for all to hear and see, whatever their ethnicity, language, gender or background. Pentecost is the season for all to find a way to respond to the truths, hopes and visions we carry within us in response to God’s creative love.

For Christians, whether in first century Palestine or 21st century London, whether Anglican, Catholic, Protestant or orthodox, whether black or white, male or female we are each called, with one another, to express that truth in the living of our lives. That means in the exciting times and the boring times, in the inspirational and the dull, the enjoyable and the painful. ‘Seek truth and pursue it’ – may that be your summer mantra at the barbecue in the garden, or sheltering from a seasonal downpour at the Summer Exhibition.. And by the way, as a Friend, I can take a guest free. Anyone interested?

James sets before us an example of how to respond to Jesus’ invitation to follow him. The gospels tell us that as Jesus walked along the Sea of Galilee he calls the brothers Simon and Andrew, saying follow me and I will make you fish for people. Jesus then calls James and John and they followed immediately.

Along with Peter and John, James was drawn into the inner circle within Jesus’ group of disciples. James was present when Jesus restored Peter’s mother-in-law to heath after a fever. James was here when Jairus, a synagogue leader, summoned Jesus to the bedside of his dying daughter. As Jesus arrives, he is told that the child has died. Amidst the weeping and wailing of grief Jesus says she is not dead but sleeping; he goes to the child accompanied by James, Peter, John and her parents. Jesus takes the child’s hand and tells her to get up: she began to walk about immediately. Grief and disbelief is transformed into awe and amazement.

James was also present at the transfiguration of Jesus. Jesus’ clothes became dazzling white; his face shone like the sun; Moses and Elijah appeared with him. Then a cloud overshadowed them and they heard a voice saying This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him! Then there was silence. They were alone with Jesus. They were also alone with Jesus on the night of his betrayal and arrest. James witnessed the distress and agony of the one he had chosen to follow. In the Garden of Gethsemane James, Peter and John are called to keep awake. Yet they fall asleep while Jesus prays to his Father, asking that the cup be removed from him. Jesus rebukes them: their spirit is willing, but their flesh is weak. A second and a third time their eyes become heavy; they cannot stay awake.

One episode in the gospels reveals a confident, loyal and ambitious James. He and his brother ask Jesus if he’ll grant them the privilege of sitting on his right and left in his kingdom. Jesus responds to their request by asking if they can drink the cup that he will have to drink. They confidently declare that they are able to do this. That is your calling Jesus tells them: the cup that I drink you will drink. Their request sets off an angry dispute amongst the other disciples. Yet this confrontation leads Jesus on to teach his disciples that they must learn to serve one another. If they wish to be first they must become a slave of all for the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.

In a forth-century sermon John Chrysostom reflects on James’ zealous request. It is not for Jesus to promise seats of honour to his disciples, but he reveals that they will suffer for the sake of him. Discipleship entails service and self-giving. Chrysostom writes: James, for his part, was not to live long. From the beginning he was inspired by so great a zeal, that setting aside all earthly interest, he rose to such pre-eminence that it was inevitable that he would be killed straight away.

James was present when the risen Christ came to his disciples. He received with them the gift of the spirit, the gift of peace. He was commissioned with them to take the message of God’s love to all the world. After Pentecost, James went on to preach the Gospel in Samaria and Judea. His passion for proclaiming the Gospel lead to his martyrdom. He was put to death by the sword on the order of Herod of Agrippa, who hoped in vain that, by disposing of the Christian leaders, he could stem the flow of those hearing the good news and becoming followers of Christ.

James gives us an example of Christian discipleship. Nothing stood in the way of coming into the presence of Jesus. He followed Christ immediately. We are called to draw near to Christ in our own lives: as we read the scriptures, in our daily prayer, in our Sunday worship. James witnessed the way in which Jesus spent time with people as he taught them, as he ate with them, as he brought the gift of healing into their lives. We too are called to reveal God’s love in the midst of friends, families, colleagues and community.

James was confident and ambitious in his desire to follow Jesus. Yet he learnt that discipleship also meant service and humility. His personality led him to preach with passion and zeal. His ferocious commitment led him to set aside his earthly ambition. His own discipleship was costly. We may not be called upon to pay the ultimate price, but we can learn from James’ enthusiasm. We are called to use our different gifts and skills. Like James, we may not always understand; we may not always be alert. But our personalities and our flaws can be transformed as we follow the example of Christ. As we learn more of God’s love for us so we can grow and flourish. To be a disciple is to learn to love; to gradually align our will with that of our heavenly Father.

It is claimed that in 830 AD James’ relics were transferred to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. His shrine remains a centre for pilgrimage today. The cockle shells on the spanish beaches were adopted as a symbol of James. On St. James’ Day we will all receive a card decorated with a shell made by our Sunday School. Receive that gift as a symbol of our on-going discipleship.

I wonder when one sees people wearing whole forearms full of such bands whether they have an interest in every particular cause they are thereby supporting, or is this primarily a fashion statement about belonging to a particular protesting group or seen to be somehow cool or hip (if those words themselves don’t sound too sad). Certainly we could be said to be wearing our hearts on our sleeves or at least on our arms, in this latest attempt to bring into the public domain a cause for which we feel concern and passion. Who could possibly have predicted a year or so ago that pieces of plastic or fabric around one’s wrist would become simply de rigour. But don’t knock it, after all it has raised millions of pounds for charities and causes which otherwise may not have received that money and support, let alone the oxygen of publicity.

In this month of August we have weddings most weekends at St James’ and along with the reading from 1 Corinthians chapter 13, one of the most widely read pieces of scripture is now from the Song of Songs. I am delighted with this because the Song of Songs is an ancient love poem but with profound significance for us as members of the body of Christ. Do read it carefully and meditatively. It may shock you as it is both explicit and erotic, not necessarily qualities you would expect to find in holy scripture. But it does contain the most fabulous insight in chapter 8 verse 6 which says:

“Set me as a seal upon your heart and a seal upon your arm”

I think this is an important dimension to the love that humans have for each other, that it has both public and private expressions. For the celebration of love there must be intimacy and privacy, time together, unspoken language and communication between lovers. But there must also be a public dimension in proclaiming that love and commitment. So on love we can indeed say that it is something to be worn as a seal on the heart in private and also a seal upon the arm in public.

Many people in our parish may not realise that when you get married at St James’ it is not just a question of turning up on the day but each couple will have seen the clergy two or three times and will have been invited to two evenings of preparation in which we eat a pleasant meal together and enjoy some good wine so that couples are relaxed and willing to talk with each other and with us about why they are marrying and what they hope to gain through their marriage. We, as a clergy, are not there to teach the couples anything in particular but rather to provide a forum for couples to take a step back and say what are the real reasons behind our desire to marry and how are we expressing them. During the summer we shall be revising the way we present some of this material and we would certainly be happy to make it available to members of the parish for their consideration and personal use.

So I would plead with all members of our parish community to think carefully about how they wear the seal of love upon their hearts as well as upon their arms. It may be love for another human being or it may be love for God but in each case the inward private dimension as well as the outward public dimension needs to be taken seriously. And I wonder what colour wristband you might design for those campaigning to take love seriously as the distinguishing human trait which reflects nothing less than the love of God for all his children. Ideas on a postcard please. And in the meantime wear your wristbands with joy.

Central to the life of every Christian is the life of prayer. Let me say at once that I do not think prayer is the recitation of pious devotions or phrases. Prayer is all about attitude. One of the great joys of ministering as your parish priest at St James’ is that so many people participate in the worship and service of God in this parish church. Members of the congregation greet, teach, read, administer the bread and wine and not least lead intercessions for the church and the world for the children of God in all their needs as well as for the faithful departed.

But what do we think intercession is? Is it the slot in the service for a second snooze, the first having been in the sermon? Is it the time to test out the new kneelers or your old knees? Is it the opportunity to slump forwards and think did I turn the oven on? The time of intercession within our worship is most certainly not the time for a Thomas Cook tour of the world’s needy spots or to make a list of petitions rather like your shopping list. In fact, the word intercession comes to us from the letter to the Hebrews where the writer says of Jesus: “He always lives to make intercession for us”. And that word has nothing to do with a list or a petition or intervention even. It means simply encounter or to meet or to be with somebody. And just as Jesus is the model of being truly God like in human life so we need to look at Christ’s life to see what he understood as prayer. Simon Peter finds Jesus in a desert place before daybreak praying, Jesus prays though the night before he appoints the twelve disciples, Jesus prays on the mountain where he is transfigured, he prays in the Garden of Gethsemane and he even prays on the cross. Above all perhaps the prayer at the supper in John Chapter 17 that we might all be one, is deeply symbolic of the prayer life of Jesus “that we might all be one”. Intercession is about that oneness, that encounter and meeting with others in God’s presence. Of course it is something that happens in every Eucharist as we receive bread and wine but it is also something that happens day by day, hour by hour at home, at work, in our leisure time, in the shops, in school or wherever we may be, for our prayer is not a specialised activity but it is the point where we meet God, when we are laughing or weeping, when we are bored or happy, when we are working or eating, when we are alone or with friends. Prayer is to be with God for others and prayer is to be with others for God.

That’s why our intercessions book sits on the altar day after day after day and is used day after day after day in the prayer life of our parish. Everyone is welcome to write in it names, causes, issues about which they have a care and which they wish to hold before God and his people. There is a pen attached so please make use of it. Write in whatever you wish. It can never be exclusive, it doesn’t matter whether we all know the situations or the people involved or not. We can pray for people far and near, in our community or beyond it. We can pray for the sick or the healthy, we can pray for the hungry or the sated, we can pray for those at peace or those in trouble and not only can we do so we must do so if we are truly to represent Christ in our world today. For prayer is nothing less than holding the people God has made before him and for holding God before the people he has made. Join us, as we join God’s faithful people and saints in glory to pray day by day. For prayer is nothing less than meeting God whether we do it in church, on our knees, by visiting someone in trouble, by marching with others to make poverty history or even by taking flowers to someone who is sick.

They are to share in God's creativity and are called to act with responsibility, but they decided to take what they want. They chose the way of selfishness, exploitation and domination.

We, like Adam and Eve, are to take care of our world's resources. We can do this by supporting projects that seek to maintain the richness and diversity of God's creation. Elsewhere in 'The Spire' there is an article which tells the story of a farmer in Bangladesh. As a result of foreign seeds and the use of chemical fertilisers he and his family find themselves in a desperate situation. He faces debt, poor harvests and has little hope for the future. However, support from one of Christian Aid's partner organisations has enabled him to grow a range of vegetables and rice. Such a story reminds us of our global interdependence. We are called to use our influence to challenge exploitation in trade and agriculture.

In the New Testament we hear of how God's Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Jesus did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited. He did not seek power and domination. Instead he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave. He spent his time with those who were poor and marginalised. He ate with them and shared in conversation. He sought to meet their physical needs. In his service and responsiveness to them he revealed the love of God.

This harvest we will once again be supporting the work of the Upper Room in Hammersmith. This charity provides support for the homeless, vulnerable and disadvantaged in West London. During our harvest celebrations we will be collecting essential items – such as tinned food and toiletries. There is a full list of suggested items elsewhere in this magazine, as well as further details about the work of the charity.

It is vitally important that we support such projects within our city. In the 'Big Issue' John Bird reflects on the 'Big Release' photo exhibition in Norwich. Homeless people were invited to take a photograph capturing the strangeness of their position: the poverty, rubbish, emptiness, randomness. Remnant people. Left over like so many things about modern life. Unrecognised. Under-appreciated. Seen only as people who clog up city centres but do not exist. In our society people fall through the net of care as a result of abuse, mental illness, relationship breakdown, or loss of employment. They are not remnants, but people.

The following prayer challenges us to follow the Jesus' example of service: to call for justice not exploitation. To use our time, our wealth, our opportunities and our lifestyles to reveal God's love. God's Kingdom edges closer when we are prepared to show our support for those who are homeless or landless; when we are prepared to accept our responsibilities not just our privileges.

O God, when in Jesus you walked this earth,
you had no place to call your own,
no place to lay your head.
As we stand by the landless and the homeless
and support those who struggle alongside them,
may we stand by you, seeing your face and image there.

Mr Micawber’s insight into the definition of human happiness or misery may not be the whole truth but it certainly has some truth in it. We at St James’, like every individual and family, have to plan our income and expenditure. We do this on a careful annual budgeting basis with monthly monitoring of our income and expenditure. Much of this task is done quietly and behind the scenes but, on occasions, we need to go very public when problems arise. The first thing to say, however, is a huge thank you to those who give generously, indeed sacrificially, particularly through planned giving (what we used to call stewardship). This enables us to plan ahead and make commitments in terms of our expenditure which is crucial to the mission and ministry of our parish church. However, during 2005 for very understandable reasons, our income has slipped by some 10% while our expenditure has gone up by about 5%. While Mr Micawber may by now be spinning in his grave when he hears such news, nevertheless it is not something over which we need to panic. However, it is certainly a situation which we need to rectify.

Our income is made up as follows. We have budgeted for a total income of about £105,000 in 2005. Of this about £60,000 comes through planned giving. Further we receive about £20,000 back from the Inland Revenue on that portion of our income which is gift aided. But this is 10% down on what we need to cover our budgeted expenses. Mr Micawber’s spins are speeding up! Unless we increase our income to our planned levels for 2005 we shall end the year in the red on our general account. This would mean that we would have to take money out of our very small reserves and we would have to cut our activities for 2006 to cope with our continued reduction in income.

So if we look at the expenditure side of our parish accounts we see that by far the biggest part is our contribution to the Common Fund. This is the housekeeping fund for the whole of the Diocese of London. Please do not think that this is a one way contribution. It is not. We receive back in this parish two priests, their stipends, pensions, National Insurance contribution, the training of future generations, the work of a children’s adviser, social justice adviser and a variety of other central functions. The Common Fund makes the Diocese work. We, in a relatively affluent part of the Diocese, have a moral responsibility to enable the mission of the church to continue in every part of the Diocese and we gladly contribute to the Common Fund. But after that, our expenditure comes in smaller chunks. We are committed to modelling good stewardship of our resources and so give away 10% of our income to local, national and international charities. The cost of the expenses of your parish clergy in a year is about £8000 and the administration of the parish about £5000. We pay over £5000 in insuring the church and hall each year and we are committed to spending on our children’s work, magazine, employing an organist and so on. None of these is a big sum or out of control in any way. Cumulatively in 2006, unless we increase our income, they will add up to a Mr Micawber nightmare.

Can you help? We ask that you consider once again how much you can give to the ministry and mission of the parish church. Can you increase your giving by the rate of inflation, say 3% or, by the rate of your pay rise? Can you consider making a gift to the church under the gift aid scheme? If you are a tax payer we can recover the amount of tax you have paid on that sum for the church’s purposes. Can you consider giving a gift to the church monthly by standing order (or at any other interval) or using envelopes each week which can be gift aided? There are many ways in which we can give to the mission and ministry of the church in our parish, Diocese and even wider.

As, inevitably, our thoughts and sights become more focused upon Christmas do remember that the basis of our giving is that God gives everything for the love of this world. That’s Christmas, and so as we wait for Christmas during the season of Advent give some thought even before that, please, to making an appropriate and lasting gift to the mission of God’s church through a gift to St James’ in 2006. If you want to talk about it further please don’t hesitate to contact me or any member of the planned giving group. We will be more than happy to supply you with the relevant materials, details and help ease your way into increasing your giving to our parish church. Thank you.

The words of Rowan Williams' poem 'Advent Calendar' evoke for us the season of Advent. As the day light hours grow shorter, as the vivid colours of autumn give way to frosty winter mornings, the Church begins a new year. During this season of Advent we are called to watch and wait for the coming of God. We recall his coming in the child of Bethlehem in fulfillment of the prophets; and we prepare for his coming among us now.

He promises to come among us in the ordinary, in the joyful, in the complex. During our time of waiting, we remember those who prepared for the coming of Christ. We remember them as week by week we light each candle on our Advent wreath. By focusing on their stories we too are called to be alert; to prepare ourselves with joy for the coming of God's kingdom. We begin by focusing on the Patriarchs. We remember the example of Abraham and Sarah who were obedient to God's call; who lived in the hope of the fulfilment of God's promises. We remember too their descents, including David, Jesus' ancestor in whose city he was born.

We also reflect on the way in which the birth of Jesus, the Messiah, is foretold by the Prophets. Their words speak of a Saviour who would bring peace. Isaiah writes of justice and liberation; of joy and gladness; equity and righteousness. He writes of the one on whom the spirit of the Lord shall rest: the spirit of wisdom and understanding, counsel and might, knowledge and the fear of the lord.

We also give thanks for John the Baptist who prepared people for the coming of Christ. In his ministry he called people to repentance and baptized them in the river Jordan. He witnessed to the truth of God, continually pointing beyond himself to the one who was to come, saying: 'The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me... I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.'

And finally we reflect on Mary. Mary the young women called to be the mother of God's Son. Although she was afraid, she responded to God's call with a joyful obedience. Her words of praise to God echo the prophetic vision of justice, peace and mercy. Her words foretell the mission of her child, our Saviour, God's Son.

And will we be alert and prepared to encounter our God is known in the vulnerability of a baby? Will we be prepared to be changed by him? The one who comes as our Saviour at Christmas will come like child. The profundity of this unexpected truth is expressed in the words of St. Augustine:

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