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The Spire Magazine
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Dec 08/Jan 09

Spire Leaders 2008

January 2008 by Peter Vannozzi
The Spire December 2007 and January 2008 was a joint issue
See the joint Leader

Peter Vannozzi


February 2008 by Peter Vannozzi
Peter Vannozzi

As a child I remember one thing about Lent – ‘self-denial boxes.’ These were small, flattened boxes with a slot in for coins. The idea was to fill them up during Lent and then return them to church to pass them on to a particular charity.

I recall being quite enthusiastic about them though whether the box was actually filled up by me from my pocket money which I gave away rather than bought sweets with, I cannot recall. I suspect that my parents were the principal givers!

The idea of ‘self-denial’ is one part of Lent, a season of the Christian Year beginning on Ash Wednesday, February 6th. Traditionally there were certain spiritual disciplines associated with Lent – self-denial went along with prayer and ‘works of mercy’ or ‘almsgiving’ – doing something for someone else. Why?

Lent is a time of preparation for Easter – the Church’s principal celebration during its year. As with any special occasion, it does not just happen. Easter needs to be given its proper status by people taking trouble to get ready for it. Partly in imitation of Jesus spending forty days in the wilderness before his public ministry began, forty days (excluding Sundays) are spent reflecting, pondering, praying, in readiness for the joy of the resurrection at Easter. How can this be done? Back to the three ancient disciplines mentioned above.

‘Self-denial’ may not sound terribly positive. After all, denial of one’s self can be quite catastrophic for some people’s mental health. For some, to be told ‘deny yourself’ when they feel dreadful about themselves to begin with, is not very helpful and may be downright unkind. Surely, we should encourage people to befriend their ‘self’ and to bloom as fully human people. I think, though, that there can be a place for self-denial. The purpose of it, and the practice of fasting as part of it, is so that we can begin to see what matters to us most of all. We live in a society in which consumption is often king. Not to consume what we do not need, but simply want, can be a positive choice spiritually. So at the simplest and most practical level, a person may give up chocolate or alcohol and set aside the money they would have spent to give to a good cause. At St. James’s our ‘good cause’ will be the Lent appeal of ALMA – the Angola London Mozambique Association which spearheads the work and links between the diocese of London, and those in Angola and Mozambique. The goal is to finance the building and equipping of a school in each of our link dioceses – Angola, Lebombo (Southern Mozambique) and Niassa (Northern Mozambique). A simple school with three classrooms and an administration block costs about £25,000. ‘Self-denial’ can positively aid our brothers and sisters who seek to develop their ‘self’ through education. It can lead into ‘works of mercy.’ Very simply, it is doing something for someone else following the example of Jesus.

Prayer is also important in Lent. I will be offering a Lent course at St. James’s on different aspects of prayer. In prayer we seek to be in touch with God and to deepen our relationship with God. If this happens, we get to know better the God whose love is seen on the cross on Good Friday and at the empty tomb on Easter Day. God gives us a true perspective about our self. God’s view is that we are of infinite worth though we must acknowledge our need of God, and where we have gone far from God. This is not a reason for despair, but rather joy. I know who I really am, and then I can know who others are. It makes clear why a ‘work of mercy’ should be important.

I wish you all a very happy Lent and Easter. The Collect for Ash Wednesday sums up for me the spirit of Lent and the nature and purposes of God whose great love in the death and resurrection of Jesus we are preparing to celebrate.

Almighty and everlasting God,
you hate nothing that you have made
and forgive the sins of all those who are penitent:
create and make in us new and contrite hearts
that we, worthily lamenting our sins
and acknowledging our wretchedness,
may receive from you, the God of all mercy,
perfect remission and forgiveness;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.


March/April 2008 by Peter Vannozzi

‘We are an Easter people and ‘Alleluia!’ is our song.’
Pope John Paul II

What on earth is the Church for? Or heaven, for that matter?
The Bible offers various answers – the Body of Christ, a family, the people of God, the new Israel, and many more. Yet it is the late Pope’s definition that strikes me as Easter approaches:
‘We are an Easter people…’
I wonder what he meant?

Peter Vannozzi


Easter is the central point of the Christian Year. In the week leading up to Easter Day, Holy Week, the narrative of the events of that week is retold. More than that, experienced now. People are invited to be with Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem and was acclaimed by the crowd. They can be with him in the upper room sharing his last meal with his disciples. Similarly, people can be with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, with him at his arrest and trial, walk with him to the cross, stand there at the foot of the cross. Throughout all this, people are encouraged to ask, ‘What does this mean?’ When Easter comes, there is then the opportunity to peer into the empty tomb, and to wonder. More than that, this day defines what people can be – what the Church is to be.
‘We are an Easter people…’

How does Easter help us to understand what it means to be an ‘Easter people’?
Easter celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. Despite the efforts to crush and destroy the One whom embodies the life of God in the world, Jesus showed that the life of God cannot end. Easter themes are therefore new life, hope, joy, triumph. To be an Easter people is to have such themes at the centre of one’s life. An individual will seek new life for their own self, but also a community will seek it together. An Easter people seeks to live in the light of the raising of Jesus and cannot be a rigid and static entity. If it is, then what can it make of the Easter event where death is no longer final? Conventional expectations are turned upside down.

In his 2006 Easter Day sermon in Canterbury Cathedral, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams said this:
‘The Church does not exist just to transmit a message across the centuries through a duly constituted hierarchy that arbitrarily lays down what people must believe; it exists so that people in this and every century may encounter Jesus of Nazareth as a living contemporary.’
I think that Dr. Williams here is saying something very similar to Pope John Paul. An Easter people will know and will want others to know that Jesus is indeed a ‘living contemporary.’
What might it mean to encounter Jesus in this way? When people encountered Jesus as a contemporary in the first century, their reactions were diverse. Some hated him and wished to silence him. Others heard that there was a chance for them to start again. Some who felt judged by Jesus rejected that judgement. Others accepted his judgement and changed. For some the word of grace he spoke was just not acceptable. For others, life took on new meaning as a result. An Easter people is one which has had this encounter, thrived on it, and then cannot but want others to know of it. An Easter people can have no hidden secret truths, no mysteries that cannot be revealed, no belief in a private revelation to a privileged few.

I wish you a very happy Easter in the hope that indeed the Church can be an Easter people with ‘Alleluia’, ‘Praise God,’ as its song.


May 2008 by Peter Vannozzi
'Do not cling to me…'
Who said this? Someone on the tube to whom one stood too close? A person angry with us? Somebody frightened of us, for some reason? Or maybe just irritated by us, finding us too 'clingy.' Possibly, and we may have been in the same position ourselves with another person, for whatever reason.

These words were also said by Jesus to Mary Magdalen. St. John's Gospel tells the lovely story of the encounter between Mary Magdalen and the risen Jesus on the first Easter morning.

Peter Vannozzi

Mary has come to the tomb early and has found the stone rolled away from the entrance to the tomb. She runs to tell the news to the disciples and Peter and another disciple come to the tomb. They go in, and find the grave clothes, but not the body of Jesus. They then leave to convey the news to their fellow disciples. Mary, though, remains at the tomb, weeping. She then, unknowingly, meets the risen Christ. He asks her why she is weeping and for whom she is looking. Mary mistakes Jesus for the gardener, and asks if he knows where the body of Jesus has gone. It is only when Jesus speaks her name that Mary knows that this is not the gardener, but Jesus himself. What caused the penny to drop? Perhaps a familiar tone. It appears from what follows that Mary tries to grab hold of Jesus for he says 'Do not cling to me…' or 'Do not hold on to me…' Why not? It might not seem unreasonable for her to do so after all that she (and the other disciples) have been through.

This scene is often depicted in paintings of the resurrection of Jesus. One such depiction is that of the great painter and Dominican friar, Fra Angelico. In what was once the busy and powerful convent of San Marco in Florence, we find the friars' cells, each of which has a depiction of some scene in the Bible. In many cases they are exquisitely beautiful. A friar would retire to his cell for contemplation, and the scene on his wall would give him visual stimulation for his prayer. Fra Angelico's painting is reproduced here…

If we look at the image, we see Mary Magdalen kneeling, her left hand stretched out towards Jesus. She looks as if she could stand up at anytime and grab him! Her face seems impassive - it's her body language that speaks. By contrast, Jesus' expression is almost a smile, and his hand is turned is raised as if to avoid Mary's touch. It is no wonder that Mary mistook him for the gardener as he has a garden implement over his left shoulder! In the picture Jesus is on the move - this is not a picture with static figures looking devout, but rather one of action. There is the attempt to cling to Jesus, but he is walking on.

What is the problem with clinging to Jesus? There is in the expression 'clinging' some hint of desperation. There could be a desire to hold on to what is passing. Mary Magdalen, out of sorrow, may be still stuck a little in the desperate immediate past of Jesus' arrest, trial and death. She will not let him get away from her again. Now, though, things have changed. Desperation must give way to joy. Jesus is not present exactly as he was before. He is also moving on. He refers in the passage to ascending to his Father and his God, who is the Father and God, also, of Mary Magdalen.

May 1st sees the Feast of the Ascension when Jesus 'moved on' according to St. Luke in both his gospel and the Acts of the Apostles. For all its traditions, the Church is to be a body that 'moves on' and does not cling to what is passing. It has a Lord who was not static, but in motion. His movement on is one that people are called to imitate, both in their own lives individually and collectively, also. Where in life might we be stuck, clinging to the past? Perhaps clinging to the wreckage of the past. Or an imagined ideal past that never really existed. The invitation of the risen Lord is to move on with him and to know something new. The 'new' may be disconcerting, disturbing, disruptive. Yet the Ascension has Jesus returning to the Father in order for something new to happen - the gift of the Holy Spirit, the continuing presence of God in the world, fire and energy. May 11th sees the Feast of Pentecost and the coming of the Holy Spirit to the first disciples. They move on - on and out of Jerusalem into the world. New things can now happen for the sake of the world.

Let's not, then, be clingy and tie ourselves down, but rather move on with Christ, relishing the unexpected and unpredictable.



June 2008 by Peter Vannozzi
Peter Vannozzi

"I am an ESTJ. What are you?"
This kind of question was not infrequently heard at clergy training events in the 1980s and 1990s. The intention was not to discover what kind of alien being another person was, but rather to identify their personality type. The 'Myers-Briggs Type Indicator,' (MBTI) used by some in the business world and other walks of life, suddenly landed on 'Planet Church.' A pattern not infrequently observed is that the Church cottons on to something several years after the secular world has forgotten about it.


This is not really fair on the MBTI which, if the internet is anything to go by, is a still much used tool. What is it? Essentially a questionnaire is answered which results in a person being identified as one of sixteen personality types, each referred to by letters - hence 'ESTJ' above. This was my designation when I undertook a Myers-Briggs workshop some years ago and stands for 'Extravert-Sensing-Thinking-Judging.' I suggest you have a trawl on the web if you would to find out more! The danger of such a personality indicator is that people are forced into a mould of someone else's making. It can be very determinist: 'Well, of course you think that, because you are an INFP.' Yet perhaps there is something in it. I recall at the workshop I attended the 'extraverts' being sent to one end of the room and the 'introverts' to the other. After about fifteen minutes the workshop organiser pointed out the that the introverts had just sat silently waiting for the next session, while the extraverts had not stopped talking! At least the point was made that people are different, and realising why this was could be very helpful.

On June 29th a festival is celebrated that at least partially highlights difference. The differences could have presented dangers, but actually resulted in a great richness in the early Church. The feast is that of Peter and Paul. Since early on in the Church's life, the two saints have been linked together on June 29th, which tradition holds to be the day of their martyrdom in AD 64. Paul is supposed to have died by the sword, and Peter by being crucified upside down, as he did not feel worthy to die the same way up as his Lord.

The two men are greatly contrasting. Paul was educated, a pharisee. Peter was uneducated in academic terms, a fisherman. Paul was zealous in matters of faith. Peter was keen, but then denied Jesus three times. Paul never backed away from trouble. Peter ran away. Paul was not a follower of Jesus during his earthly life. Peter was with him from near the beginning of his ministry. Paul was the apostle to the gentiles. Peter apostle to the Jews. Paul wanted to throw open the doors of the Church to people of every race. Peter was more cautious, to begin with. Paul articulated and formulated aspects of the Christian faith as we now know it. Peter was the rock on which the Church was built. I wonder what personality type each would have had!

The combining of two quite different men on the one day presents us with a complementary picture. So often people struggle with difference. Another person's differences may seem to be a threat to me. At worst, I may want to obliterate them so I do not have to see their difference. The Christian Church and Christians can be as bad as anyone else at failing to perceive the place of all within the Christian and wider communities. Paul's image of the Church as the Body of Christ should be all we need to know - each part of the body has a unique and honoured place, and each contributes to the good of the whole. Yet this can be a hard thing to hear and to internalise. Perhaps the celebration of two very different people on the same day can give us some sense of how things should be.

Whether one is an ESTJ, INFP, ENFP, ISTJ, or something else totally different, the complementarity of people within the Body of Christ should be celebrated and not seen as a threat. Our uniqueness is surely a gift of God along with the place that every person can have within the loving purposes of God. One book about the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator was entitled 'I'm OK - you're OK.' There are limits to the title - what place is there for sin? Are we really just alright as we are with no need for change? Yet it does point to God's unconditional love for us, for me as me. That includes ESTJs, INFPs …and all the rest.


July 2008 by Peter Vannozzi
Towards the end of July it will be my pleasure to welcome to St. James's Canon John Holmes, a former colleague of mine from Wakefield Cathedral. John combined being a residentiary canon with the post of diocesan missioner. Before that he was the diocesan missioner for the diocese of Ripon and Leeds. For the last twenty years of his paid ministry John dedicated himself to helping churches to understand the meaning of such words as 'mission' and 'evangelism.' Then, his role was to support them as they tried to undertake activities involved with mission and evangelism.

Peter Vannozzi


John will be preaching for us on St. James's Day which will this year be celebrated on July 20th, just five days before St. James's day proper, which is July 25th. I think that it is appropriate to have a missioner to celebrate St. James with us for James was himself a missioner.

There are few references to James, but one of them we have is in the Acts of the Apostles. It is the first reading for St. James's day. Here it is:
'At that time prophets came down from Jerusalem to Antioch. One of them named Agabus stood up and predicted by the Spirit that there would be a severe famine over all the world; and this took place during the reign of Claudius. The disciples determined that according to their ability, each would send relief to the believers living in Judea; this they did, sending it to the elders by Barnabas and Saul. About that time King Herod laid violent hands upon some who belonged to the church. He had James, the brother of John, killed with the sword.'
Acts 11.27-12.2

The 'Herod' referred to here is Herod Agrippa, grandson of Herod the Great, made king by the Roman emperor Claudius in AD 41. He appears to have inherited some of his grandfather's violent tendencies. It is not apparent from this passage why Herod picked on James. The bare fact that he did is all that is reported. The manner of James's death explains why, in a mosaic in St. James's church, James is shown with a sword. He is also depicted, though, holding a book which must be the gospels. The mosaic tells us that James was both martyr and missionary. How was James a missioner or missionary?

In common with the other apostles, James was a frightened man at the time of Jesus's crucifixion who fled for his life. In common with them, also, James was transformed by the experience of the resurrection. In common with them, once more, James waited for the Holy Spirit to come. Together with the other apostles he went out filled with joy, and the crowd heard him speaking in their own language. With them he deliberated over matters of import for the fledgling church. With them, he dedicated himself to the service of the word while others were appointed to the service of the table, caring for the church's poor and needy. Unlike some of the other apostles - his brother John, Peter, Philip - we have no record of his exploits. The fact that Herod was threatened suggests that James was at least doing something to make the king feel rattled. In that, James followed his Lord. If James's work of mission was anything like that of the other apostles, he will not have been able to restrain himself from speaking out and telling people what he believed. Yet this explicit proclamation was not the only form of mission that we see from the apostles. The word 'mission' comes from 'missio' meaning 'to send out.' One aspect of the apostles being 'sent out' was their vigorous proclamation of good new which, for many reasons, Christians in the UK can feel uncomfortable with.

A second aspect of being 'sent out' is present in the passage from Acts. The apostles determine that aid should be sent to those believers affected by famine. Good news is realized through the practical action of caring for another suffering human being. Words, however fine, are not enough. Faith without works, says the Letter of James, is dead. 'Actions speak louder than words.' Perhaps this was true of James and the other apostles. Was it the obvious putting into practice what they preached that frightened Herod? Maybe this was the total opposite of his own actions with regard to his starving people. This is, of course, speculative. Yet within that early Christian community led by the apostles, including James, we see words and deeds coming together, and each informing the other.

This St. James's tide I hope that once more James will inspire us to mission. This is not just words and not just deed, but both together. It must be clear why a Christian does what they do - it needs to be articulated. At the same time, it must be evident that a Christian acts upon their own words. Without that, the words are empty.


August/September 2008 by Peter Vannozzi
Peter Vannozzi

Plenty of paper falls on all of our front door mats, I suspect. This is certainly true for me. Endless communications arrive from organisations I did not know existed. Once I do know of their existence, I am not always sure I am very interested.

Yet on the day of writing this, the latest information sheet arrived from the Diocese of London. It listed numerous events. One was new to me: Global Ceasefire Day, 21 September. Visiting a suggested website www.peaceoneday.org it becomes clear what this day is about.

Back in 1981 the United Nations instituted the International Day of Peace. In 2001 this was given a fixed date, 21 September, by the UN General Assembly which declared that:
…the International Day of Peace shall henceforth be observed as a day of global ceasefire and non-violence, an invitation to all nations and people to honour a cessation of hostilities for the duration of the Day…

Member states and organisations of various sorts are encouraged to mark the day in an appropriate manner through education, public awareness, and working for a cessation of all hostilities on that day. One reaction to this is a cynical one. Does anyone, anywhere, really believe that warring factions will take the slightest notice of this? There are all sorts of worthy sounding days during the course of the year that keep people busy, and make them feel a little better. An alternative reaction is to applaud an effort to bring issues of peace before the biggest possible audience and to make some difference. Even if only one or two people are affected then surely a life saved rather than ended is good enough?

In fact, the website lists various initiatives associated with the day, including the vaccination of 1.4 million children in Afghanistan against Polio and a wider immunisation campaign affecting 600,000 children in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

It so happens that 21 September is a Christian festival. Each year St. Matthew is remembered on this day. Whether or not it is right to identify Matthew the gospel writer with Matthew the tax collector and then apostle, we have a gospel that bears his name. Each of the four gospels has distinctive features, and this is certainly true of Matthew's.
Sometimes it is referred to as the most Jewish of the gospels with its frequent quotes from the Old Testament. It is seen as particularly ordered - Jesus's teaching is in five tidy sections. Matthew gives us some incidents in the life of Jesus we do not find elsewhere such as the coming of the wise men. There is one passage of Jesus's teaching that strikes me as particularly relevant to Global Ceasefire Day:
…I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” Matthew 21.35-41

This is only an extract from a longer passage, but it makes a clear point. Whatever is done or is not done for one in need is done or not done for Christ. Moving beyond a cynical reaction to this or that worthy day, if more children are vaccinated against disease because of a day such as Global Ceasefire Day, then Christ is vaccinated. If only one gun is silenced, and a life spared, Christ is spared. If there is one day when divisions between families, tribes, gangs, ethnic groups and nations are not allowed to cause more injury to people, then Christ is not injured. This is not silly naivety, but a basic underlying tenet of Christian belief and practice.

If you can, go to www.peaceoneday.org. The website allows you to make your own commitment for 21 September. Some may seem so limited, almost insignificant, yet it is only when someone does something that anything can ever be any different. Perhaps you will feel moved to make a commitment. If you consider yourself to be a Christian the passage above may mean a lot to you. The site, though, is for anyone of good will and here are a few people's commitments for peace:
‘I will be patient with my children and really mean it.’
‘I will help my students become more aware of the world around them.’
‘I will not get angry at anyone all day.’
‘I will show someone I love and care, as the world may not last that long.’

So take a second look at the paper that falls on to your mat - it can sometimes be worth it.


October 2008 by Peter Vannozzi
Peter Vannozzi

Kneeling on the dais under the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral, waiting for the then Bishop of London, Graham Leonard, to ordain me as a deacon, I had mixed feelings.

I had been pretty confident for several years that I was taking the right path in being ordained. Others had seemed to agree with me. The journey through selection for training, and then the actual training for ordination, had not thrown up any huge doubts in my mind about the rightness of my path, or in the minds of those who selected and then trained me.


Compared to the length of time it can take for some people to reach ordination, I had had it easy. The problem had been the retreat prior to the ordination service. My memory is a little hazy about this, but I think about forty of us were on retreat. We had three days at a retreat house to reflect and pray about what was going to happen to us. By the end of those few days, I was virtually climbing the walls. It was nothing to do with the retreat conductor who was an excellent speaker and a spiritual guide to many. The building was comfortable, too, although some of us had renamed it 'Domestos House' by the end of the retreat due to the smell of cleaning fluid! Once I stopped and pondered, after several busy years of training, I seriously doubted whether I could take the final step and do what I had been yearning to do for several years - to serve as an ordained minister within the Church of England. Every possible alternative seemed far more attractive on retreat than actually being ordained. After all, I was still only twenty-four, and surely there were other things that a young man of my age could be doing than becoming part of a funny old institution such as the Church of England?

Despite all this, I got to St. Paul's, and knelt there, waiting for the bishop. I still was uncertain and frightened, and suddenly the cloud lifted. Was it due to a profound experience of God - a vision, a strong feeling, a distinct movement of the Holy Spirit? Not at all. Opposite me on the dais was a friend from theological college, who was also on the retreat, and had known what a state I had got myself in. After his ordination, he just looked across at me and winked. I am sorry that it was nothing more profound, but that one simple, human gesture made all the difference. It was all right to be doing what we both were doing together with the other men and women kneeling under that great dome. It would sometimes be wonderful to be an ordained minister, and sometimes dreadful. Each of us would be an ordained minister as a human being and not as some oddity that had become pious and perfect at the touch of the bishop's hands.

On 5 October it will be St. James's privilege to welcome the Revd. Debbie Oades as our new curate. I do not know how Debbie felt under the dome of St. Paul's, but she describes in this month’s magazine (pages 4-5) her path to ordination and its significance for her. We will get to know more of her story - though it is her story, and none of us has a right to see into someone else's soul. Debbie comes to us a mature person with experience of life and most recently as an ordained minister - she was ordained deacon in 2006 and priest in 2007. She has served as curate of the Good Shepherd, Hounslow, and now comes to join us to continue her formation and training as a priest. I am sure that Debbie will be made very welcome, and she will be part of the life of St. James's Church and parish.

The arrival of a new ordained person gives a chance for each person to consider their own particular journey of faith. Many will sympathise with Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London, who when asked about his faith said that it was like listening to Classic FM in the Chilterns - it comes and goes! Yet a new priest with us can be a huge encouragement to faith. The fact that someone still wants to bother to be ordained in a secular and sometimes hostile culture speaks of the enduring story of Jesus. It is still good news and it still inspires.
In the ordination service for priests the bishop says of priests:
With all God’s people, they are to tell the story of God’s love.

Welcome, Debbie, to St. James's Hampton Hill. Do tell us the story of God's love, and I am sure we will tell it to you in turn.

November 2008 by Peter Vannozzi
On Sunday November 9th, people will gather at war memorials to keep two minutes silence. This may be at 11am, but it may be at other times, too. The numbers may be great or they may be small. Nonetheless the intention is the same - to remember those who have died in war. For many years there seemed to be embarrassment about Remembrance Sunday. Some saw it as a glorification of war. Others as a narrow, nationalistic celebration. Yet in recent years this seems to have changed. The work of the Royal British Legion in promoting Remembrance cannot be underestimated.

Peter Vannozzi

Recent conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq have perhaps also made more real to a new generation what is given and taken in war. This can be remembered even if a person is not in support of a given military action. Personally Remembrance Sunday has always meant a great deal to me, and I can observe it without any degree of unease.

I want to share with you two experiences of Remembrance observances that stay with me. The first was in Wakefield where I worked previously. For two years running it was my privilege to preach at the Remembrance service at Wragby parish church which is located within the grounds of a fine house now owned by the National Trust, Nostell Priory. The service was a combination I had not come across before - part community singing, part service, accompanied by a brass band, and moving towards a two minute silence. There was a simple dignity about the occasion, and a feeling about it that seemed to be a mixture of both sadness and thanksgiving.

The second experience of a Remembrance observance was the first time I became conscious of the Festival of Remembrance from the Royal Albert Hall on the eve of Remembrance Sunday. I have a recollection of being a small boy and watching on television the paper poppies being released and falling down on those gathered on the floor of the Hall. Again, I can recall that sense of sadness, but also something more. Was it thanksgiving? I think so. I had heard too much from my grandmother about the First World War, and the presence of my grandfather and great-uncle in the trenches, not to be affected in some way by the falling of so many poppies.

Of course, the things I have recalled above could just be sentimental meanders down 'Memory Lane' and nothing more. It may make me feel better to indulge in nostalgia, but for anyone reading this, why should they care?

I want us to hold on to two things about Remembrance Sunday, and they are what I have already mentioned above - sorrow and thanksgiving. There is an order of service for Remembrance Sunday which has been drawn up by Churches Together in Britain and Ireland, an umbrella body with membership drawn from most of the Christian churches in these islands. The introduction is this:
We meet in the presence of God.
We commit ourselves to work
in penitence and faith
for reconciliation between the nations,
that all people may, together,
live in freedom, justice and peace.
We pray for all
who in bereavement, disability and pain
continue to suffer the consequences of fighting and terror.
We remember with thanksgiving and sorrow
those whose lives,
in world wars and conflicts past and present,
have been given and taken away.

Explicit mention is made of both thanksgiving and sorrow, but there is also clear reference to the future. If there is one thing that makes an observance of Remembrance Sunday Christian it is that even as we look back, we also look forward and hope that the future will be different. The past is hugely important to Christianity. We remember events that happened in the past. Yet if they do not speak to the present and do not influence the future, what is the point of recalling them? Stories told and re-told about Jesus are not just there to make us feel comfy and nice, but so that people and events can be different in the future. The introduction above makes clear that 'We meet in the presence of God.' This has consequences. We are committed to work for something better for people. In penitence for past wrongs, but with faith in something better for the future, we are to look for a time of freedom, justice and peace. Jesus spoke a lot of the kingdom of God. God's reign was to be different from the present world. This was to affect the world as it is now, and not just be for the world to come. Remembrance Sunday can be an expression for Christians of hope for something better which can be shared with all of good will.


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