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.
Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52 26 July
Why does Jesus have five tries at telling us what the Kingdom of Heaven is like? I could illustrate this using the books of the Reverend Dr Richard Hakluyt (1553-1616), who, besides being a Prebend of Westminster Abbey, had a lifelong fascination with geography and exploring, just as many of my generation fantasised about becoming astronauts; at least until I discovered that a space capsule was around the size of an Austin A40. We had one of those, so I knew what it would be like, though at least my little brother wouldn’t be sitting beside me asking “Are we there yet?” every three miles on the way to the Moon.
Hakluyt wrote a great many books about the voyages of travellers to newly-discovered places, with catchy titles like his 1589 bestseller, The Principall Navigations, Voiages, and Discoveries of the English Nation: Made by Sea or Over Land to the Most Remote and Farthest Distant Quarters of the Earth at Any Time within the Compasse of These 1500 Years: Divided into Three Several Parts According to the Positions of the Regions Whereunto They Were Directed; the First Containing the Personall Travels of the English unto Indæa, Syria, Arabia ... the Second, Comprehending the Worthy Discoveries of the English Towards the North and Northeast by Sea, as of Lapland ... the Third and Last, Including the English Valiant Attempts in Searching Almost all the Corners of the Vaste and New World of America ... Whereunto is Added the Last Most Renowned English Navigation Round About the Whole Globe of the Earth. Good luck getting all that on the spine of the book! When I say he wrote them, that is not entirely true. He wrote some, but since he could not go on many of these travels, he filled in the gaps by translating the reports of other travellers.
However, he had no access to the woodcut blocks that illustrated these accounts, and he did not want to be thought to be a mere copyist, so he commissioned new illustrations. One of these showed an elephant. The snag was that the illustrator had not seen an elephant and if Hakluyt had, it was a long time ago. The result is a not very accurate drawing of an elephant.
When Jesus tries to tell his hearers what the kingdom of Heaven is like, we are a bit like Hakluyt’s illustrator. It isn’t that Jesus cannot describe it properly – he has been there, he knows it - but he has to do so in words that our minds can comprehend. I get that feeling when architects come to inspect our churches. They talk about things that I cannot understand, partly because I don’t know the vocabulary, but also because I have little idea how churches are put together. But one way round this is to keep giving different descriptions in the hope that one will make sense to the hearer.
And it is a testimony to the richness of the kingdom of Heaven that it can be described in so many different ways; and when the disciples heard these descriptions one or other of them must have penetrated their brains because when Jesus asked in verse 51 ‘Have you understood all this?’ They answered, ‘Yes.’ They may have been fibbing, of course. They might have said yes because if they said no he’d do it all again. The beauty of these similes is that they present different qualities of the kingdom to us.
The story of the mustard seed tells us about the extent of the kingdom, ever expanding. So long as we keep preaching the kingdom of Heaven, it will grow. There is no capacity limit. Consider this: if God is infinite, He has no boundaries, so there can be nothing outside God. We are already surrounded by God.
The yeast in the dough reminds us that if we incorporate Christ's teaching in our lives, it cannot be removed any more than you can take the yeast back out of the dough once it has proved; but we must incorporate it into our being in order for it to do its work.
The story of the treasure hidden in a field tells us something about the value of the kingdom, worth giving up everything we have to possess it, as does the merchant searching for pearls, but there is a subtle difference. The farmer was not expecting to find anything, but once he made the discovery he had to possess it; the merchant was looking for pearls and found the best. These are like two types of believer. The one isn’t looking for faith but suddenly finds it, the other knows there is something out there but is not quite sure what until he stumbles across it. I think of this when someone tells me they are spiritual but not religious, which usually means that they can experience the transcendence of God but not his immanence. They can believe in a big God up there, but not that he has any involvement in our lives. These may be the young people we read about who love coming to church to experience the beauty of the worship, the other-worldliness of it, but need to be challenged with the Gospel’s message of God’s work in the world.
And then Jesus presents what one might see as a recap of the parable of the weeds among the wheat that I spoke about last week. Curiously the compilers of the lectionary have lifted out the verses that explain that parable and tacked them on to last week’s reading. The kingdom of heaven will contain some who have no future there, but they will be weeded out.
There then comes one of the more baffling sentences that Jesus speaks. Having asked if they understand and received their confirmation Jesus tells them ‘Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.’ Now, the only scribes whom he has trained for the kingdom of heaven are his disciples, so he is telling them that they are responsible for explaining to people how Jesus and his new covenant has fulfilled the old treasure they already had in the Hebrew scriptures. The old treasure is not worthless, but it is surpassed by the new, and the two go together.
You see, it is not enough for the kingdom of Heaven to exist, wonderful as that is; it must also be announced to the world, which is our job. We may not be able to describe all its wonders until we see it, but that it exists, we can have no doubt, and we must announce that fact. Clergy obviously, but actually every believer who understands this can and should proclaim it. It is expansive, inclusive and intrinsically of the greatest possible value, worth giving up all to possess. Let us not let it slip out of our hands.
19 July Matthew 13: 24-30, 36-43
Last week we looked at good seed wasted on poor ground, and I argued that our job is to improve the ground, not to stop sowing seed. It is a very practical parable – and so is this week’s.
There are few things more vexing to a gardener than the weed or unidentified plant that pops up on your vegetable patch. The picture that Jesus paints is a very familiar one. You have weeds among your plants but if you try to remove them you may damage the plants. And the explanation that Jesus gives of his parable is quite straightforward. But what is its application for today?
Back in 2020 an American Jesuit priest, Fr Mitch Pacwa, wrote a book called “Wheat and Tares”, and as you can imagine it is based on this passage. But it isn’t about gardening. It’s about the scandalous behaviour of priests. I can’t summarise an entire book in a few minutes, but Pacwa argues that congregations have been scandalized by the failings of priests and the weakness of the hierarchy in dealing with them. Pacwa will be 77 years old next week; he just celebrated 50 years as a priest. Looking back on those 50 years he observes that priests have always had failings. Some drank too much, some were cranky or irritable, some could not be trusted with money, and some could not be trusted with women or choirboys. But he thinks something changed in the 70’s and 80’s; in a society that increasingly came to believe that anything goes, priests caught that bug. Some let their behaviour slip. Let’s be clear; Pacwa isn’t saying that permissiveness in the world caused priests to behave badly. At most, they saw standards slipping in society and let their own slip too. I don’t know Fr Pacwa personally. I’ve seen him many times on television. He comes across as an old-style family priest, and he has no time for any excuses about bad behaviour in the clergy. Safeguarding is necessary because you will always have these people among us.
But then he reminds us of a key point. The church will always contain sinners. It will always have people who failed. The apostles failed. Some of the early Christians failed. The biographies of plenty of bishops and archbishops could make you cringe. They were human, and they sinned. There will always, he says, be tares among the wheat. They may thrive among us; they may escape punishment for a long time; they may never be uncovered in this life; but there is always a reckoning. In the end, God will deal with them, and since they have never been faced with their wickedness, they are unlikely to have confessed or sought absolution. It will go badly for them.
That does not mean that we do not try to identify the weeds now. But just as we can try to make the stony ground into good ground, we can convert tares into wheat. We can encourage everyone, including us, to stop sinning. Of course, they must pay for their past sins; they cannot just be wiped out. Pacwa is scathing about any attempt to cover up offences. Quietly shifting priests to other parishes is unchristian and cowardly. But Jesus came to save sinners, and that is the church’s work. We have to try to turn weeds into wheat.
God cannot be tempted. What could be offered to Him that He could not give Himself? But when Jesus became man, he began to understand human temptation. He withstood it, but he experienced it. The temptations in the wilderness would have no point if he was not capable of being tempted. In this, as in so many things, Jesus showed us what people could be.
Safeguarding is simply identifying the weeds. They were always among us and I am sure that they always will be. We all grump about safeguarding training, but it is necessary. It is not restricted to PCC members, by the way; it would be good if everyone took at least the basic awareness course. It would take about 45 minutes of your life but that investment could make a world of difference to someone whom you spot being abused or manipulated.
Perhaps more importantly, it helps us examine our own behaviour. When you tell your children “Because I say so” that’s using your status to determine their conduct. There has to be a better response. It may not be abusive, but it’s getting close to it.
The picture in the parable is an instructive one. There will always be weeds among the wheat. Let us try not to be one of them.
12 July Matthew 13:1-23
The word parable has the same root as the word parabola. It means something “thrown alongside”. When a Greek teacher had something complicated to explain, he would give the explanation but then try to find a parable which would be simpler and from which an analogy could be drawn. The parable would provide the key that would unlock the more complicated or general saying. Aesop’s fables could be used as parables. The tortoise and the hare explain why steady plodding may be better than fast action; the fox and the grapes tells us that greed may cost us even what we already have.
Jewish rabbis used parables too, but commonly they didn’t provide the complicated or general answer. They left the student to work it out for themselves. Let me give you one of my favourite stories, that of a rabbi who knew that some of his flock were in great need, so he went to the better-off members of his congregation to ask for donations. When he came to the richest of them all, the man said he was sorry, but all his money was needed for his business. He didn’t have any spare cash to give away. “Look out of the window,” said the rabbi. “What do you see?” “I see people,” said the merchant, “lots of people.” “Now look in the mirror. How many do you see?” “I only see myself,” said the merchant. “Yes, it’s amazing what a difference a little bit of silver can make,” said the rabbi.
Maybe that parable needed no explanation, but the one Jesus tells here does. You heard the explanation, and I do not need to repeat it,
I have no argument with the parable, but I do have a disagreement about one of the conclusions that some have drawn from it, so you are now about to hear a rant. A controlled rant, I hope, but still a rant.
I have now been your priest for just over two months. I have been overwhelmed by your response so far. I see volunteers coming forward, I see loose ends being tied together, I see parishes supporting each other, I see people being willing to try new things. Now, this is happening against a backdrop of turmoil at the top, historic safeguarding failures, bishoprics that can’t be filled, financial pressures and dioceses like my old one in Truro pretty well abolishing parishes to form benefices with 17 churches and two or three clergy. But we ignore that. We sow in our little patch of ground. Whatever happens elsewhere, we plough our field. We prepare our allotment; because local people generally draw their view of the church and the faith from the people they meet.
Nationally, the church has followed the parable of the sower very closely. Money goes to the good soil. If you are a fairly affluent parish or fresh expression, you get more money given to you. The church spends its money on what is already successful. But what about the stony ground? Don’t the people there really need the gospel, even if they don’t know it?
I know we can be misty-eyed about the past, but I think back to my childhood. I grew up in a district which was predominantly Roman Catholic. A lot of our neighbours lived a hand to mouth life. Yet on Sundays they would file into St Hilda’s in their best. I dare say that among the better off, religion played a smaller part in their life. It was the stony ground that needed the Gospel.
If you are one of the long-term unemployed, a single parent with children to care for, a drug addict or one of those who sits on the steps of a building all day with a bottle of cheap cider, you need a message of hope. You need to be welcomed somewhere. You need proof that God loves you, that you count. You need the church – so the church had better be there; and we will be.
You see, nowhere in the parable of the sower does Jesus tell us to stop trying to sow amongst the thorns or on rocky ground. He tells us that it might not work, but that doesn’t mean that we stop sowing there. It means that we dig out the rocks, pile on the manure and do all we can to make that soil good soil too. That is our mission here. I have a five-year appointment, and perhaps most of that time will be spent cultivating the stony ground for the next sower. So be it. But we abandon no-one, and nowhere.
It will be hard work, but it is our work. Remember that when you bring someone to a coffee morning, or make them a cup of tea, or tell young mums about Little Lambs or Teddy Club you are cultivating that stony ground before I try to sow there. I am very aware that however good a sower I may be, without the land being tended first, we will not have much success. But let us work on our bit of land. Never mind what is happening over the hedge, or many miles away. We plough our fields, and then we scatter the good seed. And in God’s good time, it will grow.