Christmas preparations

Health advice at the Manna Centre

Today is Advent Sunday, the Church’s new year, when we begin to prepare ourselves for Christmas. But don’t worry you do not need to rush home to update the Christmas card list or book the Turkey delivery quite yet.

Instead, what we are encouraged to do during this period is to prepare ourselves spiritually. Indeed Advent is to Christmas, what Lent is to Easter. It is a time of reflection, repentance and preparation for the coming of Christ. Over these next few weeks our readings will tell us of those who longed for the Messiah and we will pray and sing of our desire that ‘the heavens may drop down from above and the skies pour down righteousness’.

Another of our Advent traditions here at St Stephen’s is to support the homelessness appeal of Churches Together in Dulwich. Last year this raised over £6,000 for projects across the Borough and this year many of them are reporting more and more clients coming through their doors.

This year we will have a special collection at our Carol service but you can also place a donation in an envelope marked Advent Appeal on any of the coming Sundays and put it in the collection plate.

There could be few better ways to prepare ourselves to greet a child who was born in a manger and who grew-up to be an adult who had nowhere to lay his head.

When Assemblies go wrong...

So excited that Rev is back on tonight. BBC2 9pm. Note to self; must finish standing committee meeting early...

   
   
   
   
   


Cheltenham Top 10?

Really pleased that we have been able to announce this morning my appointment as Team Vicar in Cheltenham serving St Philip and St James and The Church at Warden Hill.

http://www.saintspjleckhampton.org.uk/pages/default.asp?Sec=1

http://www.tciwh.org.uk/

Wondering what the best things are about living in Cheltenham?

All comments gratefully received!

For all the saints...


Last summer I had the opportunity to visit Ravenna in northern Italy and to see their famous Byzantine mosaics. One of the highlights was going to the Basilica of San Apollinaire Nuovo. 

This beautiful 5C. Church is lined with shimmering golden mosaics of the Saints. Near the altar is an image of Christ in the arms of Mary, flanked by angels. Beside them the three wise men bow down offering their gifts. Behind them stretches a long line of saints and martyrs robed in white that extends the full length of the Church. And it is this procession which we celebrate today.

Without these saints, we would not be here today. There is St Peter who always seemed to get it wrong but who led the Early Church. Mary Magdalene who ran to tell the Apostles the Good News on Easter Day. Stephen, the first to die for the faith. Paul who brought the good news to the gentiles. St George and countless others who died in defence of a persecuted minority religion. Augustine of North Africa who clarified the faith in the melting pot of Greek religions. Patrick and Columba who brought the good news to these shores. Augustine, the first Archbishop of Canterbury.

Catherine of Sienna, Julian of Norwich and Teresa of Avila, overwhelmed by the love of God. Francis and Clare who renewed the Church when it’s faith had grown cold. Cranmer and Ridley martyred during the Reformation. Nicholas Ferrar and George Herbert living quiet lives of holiness in rural parishes. Wesley and Newman leading revivals in the Victorian Church. Octavia Hill and Lord Shaftesbury, reaching into the slums of south London. Bonheoffer, Martin Luther King, Oscar Romero and Mother Theresa who have shown us the cost of faith in our own times. All of these have their place in that procession and we should give thanks for them this morning. 

But behind them stand others. Maybe not as tall but in that same procession nevertheless. They are those who brought us to baptism, taught us the faith and encouraged us along the way- possibly more by their lives than their words. They also include those who have worshiped and served in this Church some of whom are named on the churchwarden and vicars board by the door. And for these too we should give thanks this morning.

But this great procession stretches yet further. For behind them stand others. Others saints who seem a little confused. Saints who are dressed in their white baptismal robes yet sometimes wander from this procession.

These, it seems, are a work in progress. Saints in the refining who cannot quite believe that they should be called children of God- and yet that is what they are. This slightly rag tag end of the procession come in all shapes and sizes, from every language and nation. And if you want to know what this strange bunch look like, at the end of this mighty procession, you need do nothing more than look around you this morning.  Amen. 



To be a pilgrim


Walking 44 miles in two and a half days might not be your idea of a relaxing break. But this was my plan for a retreat in October when I made a pilgrimage to Canterbury. It began easily enough taking the train to Rochester, before shouldering my pack and heading south towards Aylesford.

I had wanted to hike the Pilgrim’s Way for many years. I had walked sections of it before but wanted to commit to something longer and, hopefully, more prayerful. I had vague recollections of the Canterbury Tales from English lessons and liked the idea of long days of walking followed by evenings beside a roaring fire.

My first day’s hike was a mere nine miles. Walking along green lanes, spotting buzzards and a dormouse, I imagined myself alongside one of Chaucer’s characters. But the ever-present sound of the M2 and the passing Eurostar reminded me that much has changed. I was making for the Carmelites at Aylesford where I was spending the night. This peaceful Friary, built of flint and thatch, nestles in a bend of the Medway. I arrived in time for evening prayer, a hot bath and some simple food.

After a Eucharist the next morning, I set out eastwards along the North Downs Way. Chaucer’s pilgrims may well have followed the route of today’s A2 and the ‘Pilgrim’s Way’ marked on our maps owes more to Victorian romanticism than medieval archaeology. Nevertheless the views south from the downs, are a great backdrop for prayer. Eventually, as dusk fell and after seventeen miles, I arrived at The Oak at Charing. Achey and sweaty I stumbled into the bar to be greeted by curious stares.

My final day’s walk brought blue skies, skylarks and yellowing poplars. Unfortunately, I also had another seventeen miles ahead of me. As I turned north-east at Boughton Lees, however, I had a sense of being on the last leg. 

Walking through King’s Wood, south of Chilham I met a mountain biker who asked me what it was in aid of? I tried to explain that I wasn’t raising money but going on a pilgrimage. Finally, I arrived in Canterbury and made my way to the Franciscan Friary for a hot bath, a meal with pudding (as it was a saints day) and prayers for a peaceful night which were duly answered.

The next morning I headed for the Cathedral and spent time praying in the ancient crypt. It was here that Thomas a Becket’s body was first laid to rest after he was killed by four of Henry II’s knights. It was this martyrdom and the miracles that followed which made Canterbury one of the most important centres of pilgrimage across Europe.

For medieval pilgrims the journey promised indulgences. For me the benefits were less exalted; an opportunity for walking, the appreciation of nature, a chance to pray and reflect and meet some interesting people. 

And maybe the sight of a priest walking an ancient pathway, might just have reminded people that pilgrims still exist.