Matt 22:1-14 11 Oct 2026
I have presided at enough weddings recently to have realised that there must be a lot of people to whom RSVP means nothing. People don’t turn up who were expected, and one or two have forgotten to say they were coming, but expect to be let in anyway. It is a problem as old as time, it seems.
In the time of Jesus, you would not expect a pretty deckle-edged card through your door. You would be told verbally that you were going to be invited and then, when all was ready, you would be summoned to the wedding. In this case, the King has invited a load of guests, but on the day they decide not to show up. The King gives them a second chance. Just in case they have not understood what is being offered, he details the preparations that have been made; and there are two different responses.
Some are just indifferent. They demonstrate apathy. Others react violently, and the king is violent towards them in his turn. They are killed and their city destroyed. It is clear what happens to those who reject the invitation. Turn it down at your own risk.
Let us not overlook the apathetic ones, however. Apathy or indifference is not a neutral act. I recall hearing one of the Jews who survived the Holocaust explaining that they could handle hatred; they had many hundreds of years’ experience of that. But indifference pained them; the feeling that people did not care whether they lived or died, that was what really hurt, and so it is with Jesus. Rejection will see you punished, but so will apathy. The invitation will not be renewed.
So we now have a banquet ready, but no guests, so the king sends his slaves out to invite everyone they meet. You do not need to be a theological master to see what Jesus is getting at. The people of Israel were the first to be forewarned of the banquet and summoned when it was ready; that is, they were told about the Messiah and when he came, were told it was time to come too. But some rejected Jesus, and some ignored him, and now they will have no place at God’s banquet. Thus the invitation is to be extended to everyone else, the whole world, the Gentile world, and they will come. Good and bad, they will come, because they will be invited regardless. The invitation does not depend on righteousness.
The next part is a little baffling. The King sees a man who is not wearing a wedding robe, but nowhere in Jewish writing of the time do we find any suggestion that guests dressed in a particular way. There have been a number of suggestions which fall apart because there is no evidence to support them. They might be correct; they might not. But one passage in the bible may give us a hint. In Revelation 19:8 we are told that fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.
Some scholars have suggested that the reference to a wedding robe is not about a particular garment. Rather, it is about making the effort to get ready for a wedding. I note that these days not everyone who comes to a wedding puts on a suit. Some do not wear a tie. I’ve had people in jeans and t-shirt; but most of us think that if we are invited to a wedding, we should make an effort. We should have a wash and put something clean on.
If this is correct the guest is thrown out not because he was unworthy – many of the guests were, if not all of them; but because, having been invited, he made no attempt to acknowledge the invitation that he had received. He did nothing, and therefore proved himself unready for the invitation. Being called is one thing; being chosen is quite another.
We have heard the call to follow Jesus. That is why we are here. But if we do no more, the invitation to follow him is worthless, and we should not be surprised if we are shown the door.
Matthew 21:33-46; Sunday 4 October
There are one or two little oddities in my CV, but perhaps none odder than a period in 2012-13 when I was asked to act as the NHS’ Local Dental Adviser and supervise the standards of dentists. I should add that I am not, and never have been, a dentist; but new rules had made it impossible for anyone who actually practised as a dentist to be the Dental Adviser, so I filled in until they could find someone.
Among the things that crossed my desk was amalgam reclamation. You may have had your teeth filled with dental amalgam at one time, but around this time that was being phased out and replaced with white fillings. The problem was that amalgam contained mercury, and when dentists chipped out an old filling they could not put it in their general waste because mercury is a toxic chemical. At the same time there were specialist mercury collectors, but each dentist only produced one or two ounces a year, and these firms charged several hundred pounds per visit, and you weren’t allowed to hold the mercury for more than three months, nor were we allowed to move mercury to a central collecting point because you needed a waste transfer licence to do that (which the same mercury collectors had). Then someone had a bright idea – the waste regulations only applied if the mercury was waste. Could we find someone who needed mercury for whom it would not be waste but a raw material for their production? What is rejected by A might be useful to B. The answer is no, we couldn’t, but it was a nice idea, and one which chimes with our experience in everyday life. Stuff we no longer want may be useful to someone else, as many of us find when we hire a skip. Stuff disappears from it, and new stuff gets chucked in. On almost any day in Yardley Gobion there will be people putting stuff at the end of their drive for anyone who can use it to take, and very little seems to be there for long. No matter what rubbish you put out, it seems to be useful to someone.
The quotation that Jesus gives, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone” is taken from Psalm 118, but there the context is a little different. The writer of the Psalm is giving thanks that, although only a righteous person may approach God, he has been made righteous by God’s action. Something flawed and useless has become something valued. Despite his failings the writer has been accepted and, as he says “it is wonderful in our eyes.” It is easy to see why Jesus might apply this to himself. Think of Isaiah 53:3, a familiar passage at Christmas and featured in Handel’s Messiah, “He was despised and rejected by mankind”. But now Jesus has become central to the salvation of mankind – and, of course, always was. Some just could not see it. What was thought to be waste has become useful, indeed the very cornerstone, the stone on which the stability of the whole edifice depends, just as Jesus is the stone on which our faith is built.
There is an additional sting in the tail of Jesus’ words. The tenants in the profitable vineyard had their lease taken off them; in fact, they are going to be killed by the angry landowner. In the same way the Pharisees believed that they were entitled to the Kingdom of God. They would inherit Heaven because they had kept all the rules, but Jesus tells them that they have done nothing to grow the kingdom, so others will inherit in their place. The Pharisees will be crushed by the stone that Jesus has become.
You might be saying “That’s all very interesting, but we are not Pharisees.” Perhaps not; but are you growing the kingdom? Are you the tenants doing the hard work of producing something or the landowner, sitting back and letting others labour? It is very easy to coast along thinking “So long as I keep my head down and don’t actually kill anyone, I’ll be all right.” But that is a minimum. We are called upon to grow the kingdom, to enliven and fill the church. That is what I am trying to do, and I am grateful for your support. I hope that keeping your head down and being good people would count for something, but I wouldn’t want to stake my eternal life on it. Would you?
Matthew ch.21 vs 23-32, Ezekiel ch 18 vs.1-5, 25-end; Psalm 25 vs1-8; Sunday 27th September
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I offer you my words in the name of the living God, our Creator, redeemer and Holy Spirit of life. Amen
From our Gospel reading today, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things.”
As, I think you are all aware, Mary and I were relicensed as Lay Ministers/ Readers at Peterborough Cathedral yesterday afternoon and, thank you Graham for giving us and indeed Anne, who is an important part of the ministry team, the celebration and recognition in today’s service. We kindly ask for your prayers as we continue to try and bring the Gospel to the people of our four villages.
In my case, I am now in the fifteenth year since I was licensed, in Mary’s case it is a few years longer. During that time, I have always kept in mind an exchange I had with one of our incumbents before I even considered training. After the service he came to me and asked, “Did you like my sermon?” My reply, “No. I did not agree with a word of it.” I suppose, in retrospect knowing the person as I did, I was not particularly surprised when he then said, “That is good. I believe you can often learn more from a sermon when you disagree with it rather than agree”
I suppose what I am trying to relate from this story is another quotation I had either heard or read, “No one should ever leave their brains at the door when they enter a church.” Religion is not a definite science. We all need to make our own interpretations and come to our own conclusions where our faith is leading us. Preachers are there to guide us in interpretations, not to tell us how to think. What we are told is the opinion of the preacher delivering the message. It is not necessarily the message that we, as individuals, ascertain from the scriptures. We should be prepared to question everything we are told.
But I need to get off of my soap box! What has this got to do with today’s Gospel reading? Well, quite a lot actually. Have you ever noticed how Jesus rarely gives a straight forward answer to a question or how He rarely explains any of His teachings or parables. He leaves His audience to come to their own conclusions of meanings and in most cases replies to questions by asking further questions.
It is in our gospel reading that we see the technique used to great effect.
“I will also ask you one question, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from Heaven or was it of human origin?” when they answer that they do not know, Jesus refuses to give an answer.
The pharisees demanded to know where Jesus got his authority. How was Jesus to answer? If He said His authority came from God, they would accuse Him of blasphemy. If He told them that He was acting on His own authority the crowds would be convinced that the Pharisees had the greater authority. They only wanted to trap Him. They had no desire to hear the truth unless it concurred with their own views. As an aside, does that sound familiar in today’s world?
Those that challenged Jesus, we must realize, are all clerical types. They are, in all probability, Roman collaborators striving to please both God and the occupying authorities in an attempt to be loyal to God but more probably in order to be allowed to continue to experience the good lives that they enjoy at the expense of the Jewish peasantry.
The question of authority is relevant at all times and in all ages. The truest spiritual authority comes from within ourselves. Dangerously, all too often we can root our religious truth in something other than our own experiences.
Today, we can see the typical pharisees’ bureaucratic mentality in nearly all religious organizations. Religious bureaucrats never seem to understand the self-authenticating authority of the Holy Spirit within us. Here, Jesus is portrayed as playing the pharisees at their own game by answering their questions with questions and attempting to show them the irrelevancy of this kind of discussion. The conversation ends on an almost humorous note when Jesus refuses to reveal His authority.
This chapter, in Matthews Gospel, then ends with two completely different messages from Jesus. The first, the parable included in our reading today, is the story of the penitent and impenitent sons told to go out and work in their father’s vineyard. The first finally obeyed the father, the second did not keep his word and did not do the instructed work.
Is this another illustration of Jesus’s emphasis on fruit bearing trees? Our words, recited creeds, titles, hymns sung and rituals are all meaningless unless they facilitate practice and practical deeds. The kingdom of God, God’s reign, ultimately belongs to those who do God’s will.
There often seems to be something within our human nature that always seeks short cuts. As I was told, when I was working, if an offer or a scheme seems too good to be true, then the chances are it is! Can I get to Heaven by saying with my lips that Jesus is Lord and attempting to believe in six impossible things before breakfast? If only there were something other than following God’s will and Jesus’s teachings that we could do?
Deeds not creeds. Jesus’s message is made clear to us in the parable of the two sons. It is our deeds that open the gate of God’s kingdom. If religion fails to turn us into kind and compassionate beings then it is a sham and a pretense. The love and compassion of our hearts ultimately fertilizes the seeds of our own spirituality, enabling the divine seed to grow into a healthy harvest. The development of our Christian love happens in the give and take, with our neighbors’ whatever race, colour, creed they may be or lifestyle they may live. It can happen in daily encounters in which we can love the other in the warm embrace of our compassion. The two sons were instructed to work in their father’s vineyard. It is in the vineyard of the world of our daily affairs that the work of God’s kingdom is done and the will of God can be accomplished.
And from Psalm 25 from todays lectionary readings.
“Make me to know your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths.
Lead me in your truth and teach me.
For you are the God of my salvation. For you I will wait all day long.
Amen
Matthew 20: 1-15 20 Sep 2026
Let me tell you a story. The vicar had been on a course. (Isn’t it strange how those words strike terror into our hearts?) He had felt for a while that his preaching lacked pizzazz. People weren’t really listening to him. Maybe he had lost his spark?
He saw an American evangelist on television and thought that was the answer, hence the course. He learned to raise and lower his voice unexpectedly; sometimes he could barely be heard. He varied the pace, sometimes rapid and at other times slow, with pauses for effect. And instead of standing reading his notes, he used his whole body for emphasis.
He was in good form the following Sunday, and as he ended he remembered the lesson that said “Get some commitment from your congregation!” so he asked “Who wants to go to Heaven?” and up went all the hands.
Except one. The little churchwarden, Arthur, sat with his arms folded. “Poor chap, he obviously didn’t hear,” he thought. “Arthur,” he said, “your arm’s not up.” “No, Vicar, no.” “Poor fellow,” the Vicar thought. “He must be losing it a bit.”
“Arthur, don’t you want to go to Heaven?”
Arthur gave it some thought and then replied “No, Vicar, I don’t think I do.”
And now the vicar was distraught. He may have 99 sheep on his side but he had lost the one. The one who, above all others, he would have thought was a sure bet for heaven. Almost in tears, he felt he had to find the reason.
‘But Arthur, old friend, you’ve been coming to this church man and boy for sixty years. Why don’t you want to go to Heaven?”
And Arthur drew himself up, looked slowly round the church and announced “Because I won’t know anyone there.”
It is time to talk about grace. My theological dictionary says “Grace is perhaps the most crucial concept in Christian theology because it refers to the free and unmerited act through which God restores his estranged creatures to himself.” It then goes on to divide grace into actual grace, co-operating grace, efficacious grace, irresistible grace, prevenient grace, sanctifying grace, habitual grace and sufficient grace; but let’s save those for later. Let’s keep it simple for now.
Grace is the free gift God gives us that somehow enables us to join him in Heaven. A great number of people cleverer than me have tried to explain exactly what it is. Roman Catholic thinkers see it as something supernatural. We could never reach heaven by our own accumulation of grace because it is a completely alien thing to us. In other words, it doesn’t work like your Tesco Clubcard. You don’t get points for good behaviour, and if you did you would never get enough. It would be like saying you get 3 points every time you do something good and you need 85 million to get into Heaven. But God fills us with his grace and suddenly 85 million points is within reach, because when God has once given us some grace we can increase it by virtuous action.
Protestants took a different view. Grace is what God is. We go to Heaven because God forgives us. God is forgiveness. This clashed with the Catholic idea because under Luther’s Protestant view you are either forgiven or you aren’t. You either have God’s grace or you don’t. There is no room in Protestant thought for grace as supernatural virtues given by God that we can then work with to increase, because grace in stages makes no sense.
We do not need to decide between these two views, because all we need to recognise for our purposes is that there is a gap between what we need to enter heaven and what we have, and God makes up the difference. But you don’t get any advantage by receiving your grace before me. You don’t receive less grace because you were slow asking for it. When, God willing, we arrive at the gates of heaven God is not interested in how long we have been a Christian. It means that there is hope for us right up to the last. A deathbed conversion still gets you a full measure of God’s grace.
This means that we may come across people in Heaven we didn’t expect to see there, and so might Arthur from my story. They may have led wicked lives but repented at the end; and there is no point in our grumbling that we have been Christians for sixty or seventy years while this other person was a notorious sinner. Grace is a gift of God, and he can give it out any way he likes, just as the parable tells us. Let us just be grateful that he offers a full measure of grace to us.
Matthew 18:15-20 6 Sep 2026
Can you be a good Christian on your own? You can, but it is difficult. If, for example, we were marooned on a desert island, we should have to make the best of it. We could still pray and read our Bible or prayer book, if we had one, but we would lack communion in both the common and the church sense of the word.
And communion, or community, is important to Christians. We care for each other, as they did in the early church. When in Matthew 25:34-36 we read “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” that is a plural you. It is a congregation that is doing these things, and these are things that we do here, I hope. But we can always do it better.
I understand that before Covid we had parish outings. Coaches are expensive these days, and we can no longer ask Richard Yates to drive them, but we ought not to give up on the idea. Please have a think about what we might do.
But to return to the Gospel, it begins with the phrase “If another member of the church sins against you”. This poses the question of whether we are good and fair at spotting sins in others, or indeed ourselves. Are our judgements right? During the week Mary and I were comparing notes about aunties. My father was one of 11 and I therefore had a lot of aunties. I remembered a wedding from 1970 when six of them were sitting along the wall at the reception with their big handbags on their laps commenting all too loudly on the appearance of the young women there. “If that dress was any shorter you could read the label on her knickers.” And there was a young woman wearing a deep plunge neckline of whom they said “If you’re going to wear that you need summat to show off. She’s like a butcher’s slab from the war – no meat.” Not for nothing did my Uncle Bert go to the bar and say “I’ll have a pint in there and six port and lemons for the firing squad.”
The gospel sets out how disputes are to be resolved. First, by direct discussion, If that fails, take others with you. This is a sense check – is the other person really at fault or have you misjudged? If they agree that you have good cause, and the dispute cannot be resolved, involve the whole church and if that doesn’t work, cast them out. Treat them as a Gentile or a tax-collector – that is, one who cannot be part of the Kingdom until they change their ways.
Then Jesus tells us that he will not second-guess decisions made by his disciples on earth. They have full delegated power. Jesus trusts them to make the right decision; and, moreover, if two of them agree about anything, God will do what they want because Jesus will add his voice to theirs and, of course, Jesus and God can never be at odds.
‘For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.’ In this way Jesus lives out the name the angel gave him before his birth, Emmanuel, God with us.
But a note of caution: sometimes people take the single verse, verse 19, ‘truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven’ and speak of it as if it has a general application, that anything two of us ask for will be given. It doesn’t matter how many Northampton Town supporters pray for them to beat someone, because that isn’t what Jesus is talking about. He is restricting his remarks to decisions about who is in the communion and who is not, who will repent and come back and who will not.
Unity is so important to the church. We have to be in communion with our fellows here. We have to be together, because there is no salvation for those who are separated. That doesn’t mean that we agree about everything all the time, because communion can be elastic, but it must not be broken.
Let me give you a simple example. We say two Creeds in our services. At Morning and Evening Prayer we say the Apostles’ Creed, which begins “I believe”. At those services, which we often say at home on our own, there is a dialogue between each of us and God, so the only thing we can say is what we individually believe. But at Holy Communion we say the Nicene Creed, which begins “We believe”, because there we are describing what the church as a whole believes. It is a statement of communal belief. It may be that we individually have some scruples about clauses in it, but that doesn’t matter because we are saying what the church believes. Personally I have no problem in saying every word, by the way.
One of the reasons why I am so delighted that we now have coffee after the services here is that it builds community. You all get to know each other. It is not my plan to meld all the parishes into one amorphous blob; your independence is important to me. The parishes have, and must have, their individual character. But working together, supporting each other, seems to me to be what Christians do.
John 1:43-51 St Bartholomew Patronal
Just in case you are confused, asking yourself “If it’s St Bartholomew’s patronal, why are we talking about Nathanael?” permit me to explain that many – though not all – scholars think Nathanael and Bartholomew are the same person. Bartholomew, or, in Aramaic, bar-tolmai is actually a surname meaning son of Tolmai, Tolmai in turn being the Greek name we know better as Ptolemy. Nathanael means God has given and is a Hebrew name.
We bracket them together because in the other gospels Philip is always part of the pairing Philip and Bartholomew. Philip (another Greek name) came from Bethsaida, whereas Bartholomew was from Cana. We don’t know exactly where Bethsaida was, except that it was on the north shore of Lake Galilee, about thirty miles from Cana. Nazareth was about 5½ miles further west than Cana. Bartholomew plainly did not think much of Nazareth to judge by his question ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ This is rather like Cosgrove people having a grumble about Furtho. It is, of course, a clear example of prejudice and prejudice, because it is not based on any fact, is a bad thing, even when it is a bias in our favour.
Let us pause here to contrast Philip and Bartholomew. Philip is convinced that Jesus is the Messiah, the One about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote. Bartholomew is unconvinced because he concentrates on Jesus’ earthly birth. He can’t get past the fact that we know where Jesus came from. We ought not to put on airs about this; no doubt we would raise our eyebrows if we were told Jesus had returned and been born in Deanshanger.
Bartholomew's protest highlights God's freedom; God overrides our expectations by causing Jesus to be found in the very place where we least expect him. But there is only one answer to Bartholomew’s intransigence. ‘Come and see!’ says Philip. Let your own eyes convince you; and, indeed, Bartholomew is prepared to look.
Jesus greets Bartholomew with words from Psalm 32, an Israelite in whom there is no deceit, and Bartholomew asks how Jesus knows that, Jesus tells him he saw him sitting under a fig tree. There is a literal meaning in this, but also a symbolic one. The prophets Micah and Zechariah both talk about the coming of the Messiah as a time when people will sit under a fig tree in peace. Whether Bartholomew responds to the clairvoyance or the reference to the Messianic age, or both, is not clear. Jesus asks whether he believes because of what Jesus saw, and tells him that he will see more impressive acts than those. But it does not matter, because Bartholomew has already acknowledged Jesus with two Messianic titles – Son of God and King of Israel. We often say that Peter was the first to acknowledge Jesus as Lord but here is Bartholomew getting in first.
Facts about Bartholomew are few and far between. Tradition says that he took the Gospel to India and Armenia, though it has been pointed out that early geography was a bit fluid and many thought East Africa was part of India. Similarly, there are several accounts of his martyrdom, but the majority hold that he was flayed alive. For this reason he is often depicted in art either holding his skin or a scalpel; and it may the association with a scalpel that explains why he has given his name to many hospitals. St. Bartholomew is the patron saint of leatherworkers, bookbinders, plasterers, butchers, tanners, and shoemakers.
There is no profit in discussing that further here. Bartholomew merits our attention and our admiration for his speedy response to his first encounter with Jesus and his discarding of his prejudices. He is sceptical until he meets Jesus but then declares that Jesus is the Son of God without any reservation. There is nothing lukewarm about Bartholomew. Once he has evidence, he is convinced, and he acts upon it.
I say that because it is quite easy for us to sum up the evidence for Jesus being Son of God, to be convinced by it (why else would you be here?) but then not to let that spring into action. We know it in our hearts and heads, but does it lead to our doing anything about it? I do not want anyone journeying to India or Armenia, but if you felt like mentioning Jesus to someone in your street, that would be good. Our neighbours may be very happy sitting under their fig trees, but at some point somebody has to say to them ‘Come and see!’
Pope Benedict XVI puts it this way: ‘Our knowledge of Jesus needs above all a first-hand experience: someone else's testimony is of course important, for normally the whole of our Christian life begins with the proclamation handed down to us by one or more witnesses. However, we ourselves must then be personally involved in a close and deep relationship with Jesus…’
Jesus said “I saw you”. Before Bartholomew was even aware of Jesus’ existence, Jesus had seen him, and had chosen him. And Jesus has seen us; what has he chosen us to do?
It all starts with a trusted friend saying ‘Come and see!’ So let us say it more often, to more people.
Acts 16:1-15 16 August 2026 Evensong
The book of Acts is a journal of Paul’s travels and they record the backward steps and disappointments alongside the successes he had, and this particular passage contains all of those. There is no editing to present Paul’s acts as an unending string of successes and that is good, because it reminds people that every congregation has the occasional disappointment or backward step. And there is often the temptation to read Acts with a bit of a “that was then and this is now” outlook; but in fact it has a number of lessons to teach us.
Let us start with Timothy, a young man of mixed parentage. His congregations speak well of him, so Paul wants to take him along. There is a small problem. He will not be acceptable to the Jews in those areas because he is not circumcised and somehow they all know it. I am pleased to say that being circumcised as an adult is not part of the Church of England’s ordination procedures, and it might be a bit of a dealbreaker for some of us, but Timothy is made of sterner stuff. Note that Paul and Timothy tell people what has been decided in Jerusalem. Too often we are told a history that pits Paul against Peter, Gentiles against Jews, but Paul does not see it that way. He defers to the apostles in Jerusalem.
Their route is determined by the Holy Spirit. They are told to go to some places and not to others. Do we ask for guidance about our plans? We can hardly complain if they go wrong when we have not asked God if we should be doing them in the first place. Inspired by a vision they head for Macedonia. You can plot the journey on a map today – it is not one for the faint-hearted.
But how to meet up with Christians in Philippi? There are two choices. Christians are still persecuted so either they will be well-hidden, or they might be outside the city, and since they would need a river for a baptism, perhaps that is where they meet, and so it proves.
The audience there consists of women. This is quite a common finding in the early church; women come to faith first. One of them, Lydia, is not a nobody. She deals in purple cloth. Only senators and upwards were allowed to buy it, but probably only they could afford it. You need about a quarter of a million sea-snails to produce an ounce of dye, and the best ones come from the sea near Lebanon.
If you were thinking of Lydia as someone who ran a nice little drapers’ shop, forget that. She is more like a Savile Row tailor. And she is taking a great chance by worshipping with the Christians. How many of her customers would come to her if it were known that she keeps such company? But she and her household are baptised; it would be lovely to think that all her servants wanted it, but too often the master or mistress would insist that all were baptised as an insurance policy. A servant would not shop their master or mistress if he or she could say “Well, I’m a Christian, but so is she.”
Presumably she has a large house if she has household, so she invites Paul and Timothy to stay with her, and it becomes their base in Philippi. Lydia is widely regarded as the first European convert and is revered as a saint.
I want to make two points. First, note the prominence of women. The word is just slipped in but it is there: “we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there”. But the main point is that too often we make plans without sufficient prayer and thought, and I am as guilty as anyone. I ask God for help with my plan, but I need to think more about listening to God’s plan. If Paul had had his way, he would have gone to Bithynia and therefore would not have met Lydia or the others who formed a church among the Philippians. God had other ideas and God, as always, knew better.
Matthew 15:21-28 16 August 2026
This is a difficult passage. It sounds like the Jesus we know and love has been replaced by Mr Grumpy. To explain this I think I need to introduce you to the principle of kenosis; but since we do not have months, it will be a stripped-down version.
Kenosis means emptying or self-emptying. Jesus has come from God and shared his characteristics. Amongst these, Jesus will have known no boundaries, because God is infinite. So how do you get an infinite God into a finite, bounded human body. The answer, of course, is that you cannot. Something must be left out; and the doctrine of kenosis tells us that when Jesus became man he voluntarily gave up some of his Godlike nature. What remained was entirely God, but not the whole God. This teaching is expressed in Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians, 2:6-8 where we read: Jesus, “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross”.
I do not think it is a stretch to imagine that this restriction of Jesus’ nature meant that some things were hidden from him or had to be worked out. In this passage he has the firm idea that his job is first and foremost to save the people of Israel. He is not interested in Gentiles like this Canaanite woman. She is not part of his target audience.
But Christianity is built on relationships, and relationships work in two directions. Whatever Jesus thinks of this Canaanite woman, she regards him with awe. She calls him Lord, which many Israelites of the time would not have done. She acknowledges his lineage as Son of David, which many Israelites of the time would not have done. And when he ignores her she will not be ignored. Like many mothers who need something for their child, she will persist in asking until someone helps. If she did not have faith in Jesus this would be pointless, but she believes that he can cast out her daughter’s demon.
She keeps shouting after him and when that does not provoke a response she falls to her knees before him. She has no sense of self-importance. Whatever it takes, she will get Jesus’ attention. She would humiliate herself if she had to.
This time at least she gets a response. He answered, ‘It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.’ In other words, what I have is for Jews and not for you. The reference to dogs is obviously both condescending and offensive, but she takes no offence or, if she does, she does not show it. ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.’
It is a clever reply, but it also points to a theological truth. Jesus’ comment implies that there is a finite store of grace; that if he gives anything to this Canaanite woman, that means there is less left for Israel. Whether she knows it or not, she tells him that this is not the case. There will be leftovers. The store of grace is not diminished by extending it to her. Perhaps I might give an analogy. Like many other people, there was a time when we had one child. We thought about having a second, but my wife (an only child) worried that having a second one would reduce the love available to the first. But it doesn’t, does it? It might reduce the time we can spare, or the money we can spend; but we find more love from somewhere. Jesus, as Son of God, has access to unlimited stores of grace.
When Jesus hears her reply, it is as if he can now see something that was not clear to him before. He realises that his mission is not only to Israel. That may be his primary focus, but it is not his only one. He has a worldwide mission; and we can only assume that at this moment he finds that truth within himself. It was always there, but it had to be revealed to him.
Then Jesus answered her, ‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.’
Yesterday was the feast day of the Blessed Virgin Mary. There will be churches who are commemorating her today. Do you see a parallel between her words when the Angel Gabriel appeared to her, and those said to this Canaanite woman? Mary said ‘Let it be done to me according to your Word.’ Jesus says ‘Let it be done for you as you wish.’ He replies to a woman as a woman once replied to his messenger. And the Canaanite woman gets what she wants.
The Canaanite woman exemplifies three qualities of the Christian life from which we can learn: faith, perseverance and humility. A faith that cannot be shaken, even when she is rebuffed; a perseverance that keeps asking for the benefit of another; and the humility to kneel before Jesus and acknowledge him as Lord; three attributes that we would all do well to emulate.
Matthew 14:22-33 9 August
A recent report produced for the Church of England looked at the loss of trust in the Church of England concluded that the major reason was parish priests. There isn’t enough discipline, apparently, and there ought to be more control from the centre.
You can imagine that the response to this from parish priests was fairly robust, pointing out that almost every safeguarding failure has been laid at the feet of bishops who took inadequate action and that, by and large, surveys suggest that parishioners trust their own priest but increasingly don’t trust the higher-ups.
It so happens that I have, in my time, lectured quite a bit on trust. This is not the place to give you the whole nine yards, but essentially there are two sources of trust. There is a personal trust in which A trusts B because B has a track record of not letting people down. This is the trust we have, or want to have, in our partner. How could we go to bed at night and voluntarily go unconscious if we thought our partners might do us harm? But sometimes we have to decide whether to trust someone whom we have never met – a surgeon, for example – and then we fall back on a group trust. We trust them because they belong to a group that is expected to act in our best interests, that has pledged to do so, and that faces punishment if they fail in that duty; and it is made easier if we have previously had a good experience of others in that group.
Babies have to trust their parents to feed them and care for them. There you are with your newborn in your arms and he has to trust you. There is no known case of a baby announcing “Actually, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’d prefer to be brought up by that woman across the ward.” And I can imagine no greater pain for any parent than that of feeling that you have let your little ones down. It doesn’t matter that it’s not your fault that you’ve been bombed out of your home, that you have no money and nowhere to go. They trusted you and you think you have failed them.
On the other hand, think what is possible when someone believes in us. Cricket fans may recall David Steele who played for Northamptonshire and who was called up by England when they were being beaten all ends up by Australia, chosen by Tony Greig who believed that Steele could not be intimidated. He trusted Steele never to take a backward step, and he was right to do so. Steele repaid that trust.
We often categorise this piece of the Gospel as a question of faith, but actually I think it is a matter of trust. Does Peter trust Jesus? He believes in him as Messiah; but does he trust him?
In the early morning Jesus walks across the lake to the boat, which is unable to make land due to contrary winds. At first the disciples are frightened, as we all would be. These things don’t usually happen. But then they hear a familiar voice: ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’ Peter is doubtful. Peter answered him, ‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ He said, ‘Come.’
This is the point at which I show you my icon. This is Ὀλιγόπιστε, εἰς τί ἐδίστασας; O you of little faith, why did you doubt? You can see Peter sinking in the water, and that is the story we remember. But look again at verse 29.
So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. Peter did it; he walked on the water. Not very far, but he did it. He became frightened and he doubted. But what did he doubt. He cannot have doubted Jesus; first, because he was the Messiah, and second, because Jesus was standing there on the water in front of him. He doubted himself. He doubted his ability to obey Jesus’ command.
He cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ and Jesus did, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’ And we often assume that the rebuke is directed at Peter’s failure to believe in Jesus. But it is not said as condemnation, but as encouragement to do better next time. Peter, after all, was brave enough to try it, and he was doing well until he noticed the strong wind. He took his eye off Jesus for a moment to look at the waves or the trees bending, and without that focus on Jesus, all might have been lost.
When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. It wasn’t needed any more. The point had been made; and the disciples declared ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’
But what of us? What do we draw from this? First, that if we have faith, all things are possible through Christ. If Christ calls us to walk on water, we will walk on water, so long as we keep all our attention on him. I hate heights. I don’t even like being under tall things. And when, in Latvia, we had to cross the river on a high bridge, the only way I could do it was by focussing on the far end. While Gillian was saying “Look at that view!” I was growling that I will not look at anything until my feet are on firm ground. It’s the only way. Peter needed to be rescued, but only after he had succeeded. And next time, he knows what to do. Put your trust in Jesus. As the hymn says, trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.
Matthew 14: 13-21 2 August
Sometimes in my mind’s eye I see an Israelite mother getting ready to put the rubbish out. She lifts the lid of a wheelie bin and notices an awful lot of bits of bread and fish inside. “Where did all this come from?” she asks; and her son says, “Well, you know that packed lunch you gave me. Something funny happened to it earlier…”
Jesus goes out onto the water in a boat. In a mountainous place like Galilee, with twisty roads and an eccentric water’s edge, a boat is much the fastest way to get around. It seems to be Jesus’ happy place. He likes being on his own, but that is rarely achievable. Although boats are generally faster than walking, and the route is often more direct, the crowds follow by running along the coastline. They do not know where he is going, nor do they care. They just want to be where he is.
I am going to pause there just to stress that point. They want to be where he is. They actively go looking. How different to so many of us who just hope that we know where Jesus is going to be on Sunday mornings between 10 and 11. Do we seek him out at other times?
And how does Jesus react to this? He wanted to be alone, but when he saw a great crowd who really wanted to see him, he took pity on them, and went to them. He put others first. He cured their sick, and they stayed on, hoping to hear him teach. They knew, just as he knew, that it was growing dark. Twilight does not last long in those latitudes, so if it is growing dark it soon will be dark; they know that, but still they stay.
I do not want you to name names, but I wonder whether any of you have one of those friends who is always keen to give advice, even though it is wildly incorrect, wholly impractical or downright dangerous? The person who seems to have an inexhaustible stock of barmy ideas; the one who, during a power cut, suggests opening the freezer to see if anything has thawed yet. Well, Jesus seems to have had a few.
We hear that there are more than five thousand men there, let alone women and children, and yet the disciples suggest sending them into the villages in search of a takeaway. What are the chances that there is enough food in any of them at any price? Jesus turns the idea down flat: he said to them, ‘They need not go away; you give them something to eat.’ They replied, ‘We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.’ And he said, ‘Bring them here to me.’
The disciples had been at Cana and watched Jesus produce at least four thousand glasses of wine, yet it does not seem to occur to them to ask him to provide for the crowd. But he does, with plenty left over.
Spectacular as it was, such multiplication of food was not unknown in the scriptures that the disciples knew. Manna rained down from heaven in Exodus; Elijah caused a jar of meal and another of oil to keep refilling while he stayed with a poor widow at Zarephath; in 2 Kings Elisha takes twenty loaves and feeds a hundred men with some left over. Jesus starts with less and has more left over; surely he must be the greatest prophet of them all!
Let us not see this as just a recapitulation of history, though. It is also a foreshadowing of what is to come, to the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. It was the same time of day, and the crowds adopt the same posture as those in the upper room at Jesus’ command. He takes, blesses, breaks and gives out the bread, in each case to the disciples.
And the disciples and their successors continue to hand out the bread week by week, inexhaustibly. However much we consume, there will be more. There is no limit on the distribution of Christ’s body, because Jesus sets no limit on the numbers who can receive. Indeed, he wants all to receive.
In a few minutes you will receive the Body of Christ. Don’t hold back. Please want it. We could all do with a little more Jesus inside us, and week by week, we get there. The Eucharist, you see, is not a small thing. It was instituted by Our Lord himself. He commanded his followers to receive him in this way. The Second Vatican Council summed it up very well when it said; ”every liturgical celebration, because it is an action of Christ the priest and of his body which is the Church, is a sacred action surpassing all others; no other action of the Church can equal its efficacy…”
Being fed by Christ was important to the five thousand, and it is no less important to us. Enjoy receiving Christ; and bring your friends, because there is plenty for all. If that doesn’t seem realistic, let me finish with a little story.
My dad was a ship’s engineer. One day when he came home he brough a young apprentice with him. This lad didn’t have anywhere to spend his leave, so Dad brought him home. There were no mobile phones, so Mum was unprepared and she complained to Dad that she didn’t have anything in the house suitable to give a guest. “Just stretch what you were going to give us,” said Dad. “Whatever he eats, it’ll be fine. What he really wants is to be at a table in a family.” Jesus is inviting us all to sit at his table in his family. Pull up a chair, and enjoy.