Cast your mind back to the end of 2016. It had been quite a year: Brexit, the first Trump presidency was underway, the concept of living in a post-truth world was upon us, many well known people from the creative arts had died and there was a sense of living through a pivot point of some kind. On a personal level, I had been ordained priest in the summer, a new phase of ministry, so perhaps the sense of a new era was particularly resonant for me.
Since then, AI has added to the sense of truth being elusive. Certainly over the past 9 years we lived through a series of episodes which show my concerns at the end of 2016 about truth in public life were well founded. We had Mr Johnson in 10 Downing Street, a serial liar, bounder and chancer, whom many were seemingly happy to hold to a very low bar of accoubtability for his mistruths. The rot of 2016 had borne bitter, fatal fruit.
We have seen our national broadcaster editing footage of Mr Trump in a misleading way (when they could have perhaps made the same editorial point in other valid ways without playing fast and loose with the video editing). This also undermines trust in the truth of what people can learn via mainstream media now, let alone the wild west attitude to truth when it comes to unregaulated online sources.
And we now have AI which is in danger of ruining our ability to think, research and share truthful data online whilst promising a future where the wonder of human creativity can be done away with. I hold out a hope in the latter case that this will lead to a backlash revival in live music and other art forms, and maybe take creativity and the way it works economically offline and back to a more human and social level again, but we’ll see.
Perfect love casts out all fear. That was the punchline of my 2016 musical musing. This was not a bad song, but was not well performed due to ill health. The song tried to set out some of my hopes for 2017, and I wrote this on one of my social media posts where I shared it:
“As we head towards the last weekend of the year, I continue to hope and pray that love not fear grows, that truth trumps the normalization of political lying, that people of love find their voices and encourage one another, and that we cling to hope, come what may.”
So as 2025 ends and 2026 begins, the sentiment still resonates. Have a listen.
Thank you Lord for the parish ministry you have called me to; for the souls whose cure is my duty, calling and life.
Bless those whose encouragement blesses me, who recognise my weaknesses and limitations and without putting me on a pedestal, see my frailties and gently bear me up.
Bless those who work beside me, who share the yoke of ministry; who assure me that this work is that of the body of Christ, not just my weak, all-too-human self.
Bless those who stay too long or too often, who are self-obsessed, who have little in the way of self-awareness, or who seek to monopolise my time: for their reminder to me that my time is no more valuable than theirs in your sight.
Bless those whose bitterness, hatred or self-righteousness lead them to attack me (or you); may Jesus walk beside me as I walk beside them, and help me be as wise and gracious as him.
Bless those who mourn, for the privilege of becoming part of their story as I help them say their farewells at a funeral or burial; I am but dust and ashes, yet as precious in your sight as they and those they grieve.
Bless those who steal from the foodbank collection, for the story which lies behind this affront to the charity of others; yet give me wisdom to marry love with justice in my response.
Bless those who see through me when I am out of my depth and are kind. Lovingly kick me up the backside, Lord, to get on with it and trust in you. In your strength, not my own, help me swim with good grace.
Bless those for whom I am a seeming irrelevance, who could not care less who their vicar is. Remind me that a vicar is one who acts ‘on behalf of’ – vicariously. May I ever be mindful that I act and am visible in my community on behalf of Jesus, my Saviour and the healer of the souls committed to my cure, and of my soul also.
I’ve been musing on some of the ‘leadership modes’ we inhabit as clergy. I have never bought into the idea that a vicar should have just one, easily-definable ‘leadership style’, nor that we must inhabit a single style based on our alleged ‘personality type’. So the following is by no means exhaustive, and these are not binary choices, more an aid in reflecting on the most apposite mode to adopt in given situations. And at best, these are mere self-check questions, not a system for how to lead! I think we are naturally drawn to one or other of these modes of leading, but a healthy leader should have some kind of self-awareness and be reflective, learning from how one reacts instinctively to enable us to adopt the most apposite response, even if it wouldn’t be what came naturally. This is, of necessity in a short online post, over-simplified, but I hope it gets people pondering.
Perspective: How am I seeing the presenting situation? This can be broad or narrow. Does the situation require vision for the future or pragmatism right now? Which is the more important focus? And how is this to be communicated? Pitfalls: visionary = fantasist; pragmatist = overthinker
Perception: How am I responding to what is going on? Is a focus on depth or clarity paramount? When I lead others, do I need to show mainly confidence or sensitivity so as to take people with me pastorally? Pitfalls: confidence = self-promoting/pride; sensitivity = self-indulgent/overthinking
Pastoral: Do people most need a shepherd, teacher, prophet, confessor, travelling companion, ‘parent’, or some other archetype of pastoral leader right now? These archetypes overlap significantly or course. Key questions: what aspect of Jesus might people see in me through how I lead on this? How am I helping people discover their vocation as disciples? Do I need to make myself inhabit a role here, or is the mode one I find natural? Pitfalls: being inauthentic by trying to fit a Biblical archetype too narrowly.
Inner / outer focus: Is a more introverted pondering needed, or a more extroverted bit of action needed right now? Kick any sense of your MBTI type ruling your approach into the long grass right now! You need to be able to operate in either modes at different times. If you know you are more prone to introversion / extroversion, just factor that into the mix but never use this as an excuse not to embrace the ‘other’ mode as you will be a poorer leader for it. Pitfalls: introversion = too much ponder/being or seeming withdrawn; extroversion = too little ponder/overbearing
Voice: Do people need to hear words of challenge or comfort? Is my presence paramount, or my words? Do I need to reveal more of myself, or rein that in to give them more space to occupy in the conversation? Is silence (or fewer words) the mode needed? Do they need me first and foremost as Nick or as a priest (less of me: a sacramental presence)?
Prioritizing outcomes: Do I need to focus on relationships, the process and connections (the journey there) or the outcome, a sense of the job being done / completed and off the To Do list? You have to be aware of both, but setting a priority, especially at the outset is helpful, but it is also worth going into every meeting, or new stage of things with this in mind. Pitfalls: journey = lose focus on the outcomes; completion = no pastoral focus.
Choose a framework / mindset: related to the above, do I need to be organised and methodical for this, or is a more flexible, improvised approach going to be the best for the people involved / the task / project? Pitfalls: organised = too rigid, less room for individuals to thrive and grow; too improvised = chaotic.
And finally, Reflections on the way, or on completion:
Where were the opportunities for rejoicing, worship, prayer, sense of God’s presence with us? What glimpses and insights into people’s journeys of faith did I gain? What have I learned about myself as a child of God?
When we talk about church growth, our first thoughts are often about growth in numbers, in amount of activity, in hours of engagement, and alongside this what we might term growth in discipleship, in depth of understanding, Biblical literacy, and developing habits and behaviours which are in keeping with what we aspire to be as Christians. All those things are good in themselves, but they don’t tell the whole story. Alongside growing, we need to be mindful of our health. As teenagers grow physically, having healthy patterns of life, getting a good, balanced diet, and developing a positive but not narcissistic self-image are of importance in their growth into adulthood. Healthy people grow well, and for someone like me who is in his 50s, the habits I build now and my approach to my health and fitness now is something that 80 year old me may well thank me for in the 2050s! The same principle applies when we consider church growth. Healthy growth is the key, not just growth in numbers and activities. After all, in the human body, growth without health can lead to problems. In my case, I had non-cancerous bone growths in my spine which started to cause me problems in recent years. Growth was not a good thing in that instance, and unchecked could have left me in constant pain, physically weak, and my limbs impaired. The surgeries I received, and the rehab and physiotherapy afterwards put the impact of this unhealthy growth behind me.
Church growth vs Church health
A healthy church should grow. But the health we need to develop in church communities goes beyond talk of numbers, or how many groups we run, how many activities we see. We need to ask questions about the health of our church communities which address relationships, culture and ethos, as well as emotional and spiritual health.
Can we disagree in a loving way? Can we resolve our conflicts in a way which others would look at and say “See how they love one another”?
Is our culture of Safeguarding so deeply embedded that we are a genuinely safe and loving environment where everyone can safely grow and thrive in their faith, and find their place in God’s family?
Is our church culture complacent? Do we challenge ourselves and ask whether we are as welcoming and inclusive as we think we are? Are we open to change, and do we do what we do for God’s glory or to pat ourselves on the back and feel comfortable in our own holiness and self-righteousness?
Are people who are emotionally vulnerable, intellectually challenged, suffering from dementia or living in the aftermath of trauma being properly cared for, nurtured and protected? Are they being affirmed and empowered as well as ministered to? Is our church a place of healing for them where they can gain strength from the love and support they receive, and discover their own vocation as God’s children?
Are people in our church community truly rooted in Christ, being nurtured as his disciples and able to see their church activities and attendance in terms of their “theosis” – i.e. their transformation into the likeness of Christ?
Are our clergy and lay ministers in risk of burnout? An experienced vicar once said to me, a couple of years after my ordination, “Nick, when you talk about your ministry, I hear a lot about how you are pouring yourself out, but not a lot about how you’re turning the taps on to fill the bath back up. Make sure your bath doesn’t run dry.” We need to make sure, as ministers that don’t simply distract ourselves with rubber ducks, but turn on the taps. By this I mean, not just finding hinterland hobbies and occasional distractions from the pressures of ministry, but ensure we have space for genuine refreshment and spiritual nourishment. And if you are a vicar, it is your churchwardens’ duty to make you do this too: your health and wellbeing is part of their remit, so have regular conversations with them about this. Battling alone is not healthy in itself, and vocation and calling is never a wholly solo pursuit. Part of being a healthy church is taking shared responsibility for each others’ wellbeing, and in the case of clergy and other church leaders, an example has to be set from the leadership, and the leadership supported in this.
There are pressures, often of our own making, in ministry: pressure to perform, deliver, produce new things, develop everyone else’s vocations, keep the show on the road, dealing with everyone else’s crises and challenges without considering the cost and weight of all this. Time off, Sabbath time, spiritual refreshment, theological study and refreshing of our passion for Jesus, prayerfulness, retreats, and all the rest are important in terms of self care and spiritual nurturing, but these also should not be yet another pressure we put ourselves under – more things on the To Do List. Clergy and their families can implode under this pressure, and clergy can also pass this pressure on to congregations through their own expectations and demands, or poor delegation and failure to step back and question what is truly important, what is truly the work God is calling our church community to undertake. So part of the health of a church is stepping back from time to time to review the whole ministry of the church community and whether some things have run their course, or cannot realistically continue to be staffed in a way which is healthy for the volunteers and staff involved.
Growth tends to happen gently – though occasionally things take off unexpectedly and quickly. And this is because God nurtures as he calls. When we look at how God calls people in the Bible, there is often a sense of a gentle calling first, which grows. Samuel was quietly helping Eli in small ways as a servant before God called him in the night. And when he hears God’s voice, it is not to call him immediately to be a priest or prophet, but to warn his master Eli that he and his sons are going to be punished for their errant leadership. The calling is firm but nurturing, step by step. This is why, generally speaking, new believers do not immediately step up into leadership or teaching roles in churches, and vocations unfold more gently.
Growing churches is important, but healthy growth is what is needed, growth which nurtures and affirms, and which challenges all members of the church to grow in a way which is healthy, which makes us a visibly safe and more loving community, and which makes us more and more like Jesus.
One of my favourite hymns is “When I survey the wondrous cross”, a poignant reflection on the love of Jesus which led him to the cross and which urges us to follow his example of wholehearted love for others. The cross was originally a symbol of oppression and injustice, an instrument of torture and state-sponsored execution by the Roman Empire. The events of Good Friday and Easter meant that this symbol was subverted. Because of Jesus, the cross now is a symbol of hope and love, and stands as the ultimate reminder of the generous heart of God who loved us so much that his Son, Jesus, spread his arms wide on the cross to embrace us all, inviting us to open our hearts to embrace and accept his love in return. The flag of St George, England’s national flag, reminds us of this: red for the blood of Christ, shed for the sake of God’s love for all humanity as he died on the cross, and white for the glory of heaven and eternal life which that shedding of blood revealed.
The processional crucifix at Ripon Cathedral (photo credit: Nick Morgan)
Which brings me to a more recent subversion of the cross as a symbol. Whatever the genuinely patriotic intentions of some of the individuals who participated in the recent flag flying campaign, the result (arguably the intention of those who devised the campaign) was to intimidate minority groups. Online comments, and those of commentators from the far-right of politics show only too well how this display of flags, far from being a patriotic celebration of our nation and national community, is being used as a tool of racism, the cross of Christ weaponised to incite division, and as a cover for outright nationalistic hatred of anyone outside a very narrow definition of Englishness.
Stained glass window depicting St George and his flag, All Saints’ Church, Bramham, the motto ‘Greater love hath no man this’ designed to inspire worshippers to acts of self-sacrificial love.
Our national flags should be a source of pride – indeed, they are flown from our churches on occasions of national significance and paraded on Remembrance Sunday as symbols of national unity. I do not believe that the recent campaign serves this purpose. While some who promote the campaign say they only wish to promote patriotism through their actions, the reality is that the way in which our national flags, especially the flag of St George, are being used to vandalise monuments such as the White Horse of Kilburn, or roundabouts, or being flown (often half mast!) from lampposts, bridges and elsewhere does the very opposite of promoting national cohesion. The intention is to tell some people that they do not belong, that they are not welcome. The fact that the Cross of Christ is the key symbol of our national flags means that, as a Christian, their use matters to me. Any use of the Cross of Christ as a tool of oppression, exclusion, or of making people feel unwelcome is a blasphemy. It takes the meaning of the cross back to its Roman origins: to use it as a tool of fear and division, the very opposite of the Cross of Christ which stands, red on white on the flag of England. Yes, I am uncomfortably aware that the flag of St George was used by the Crusaders in medieval times, and that their actions did much to damage the mission of the Church through the atrocities which were committed in the name of Christ under the banner of this very same cross. And yes, that was endorsed by the Church at the time. So we must learn from past mistakes, repent, and not let the cross become synonymous with hate, division, violence, exclusion and injustice again. Turning from past mistakes is the very definition of repentance and is part of the Christian path of redemption which the Cross points us towards.
I am proud that, in our diverse nation, our flag bears the cross of Christ, a symbol of Christ’s love in the face of evil, and his defeat of sin and death. We will continue to proudly welcome our nation’s flags into our churches on Remembrance Sunday and fly them on national occasions as symbols of our Christian heritage as a nation, a heritage which should inspire us to acts of love, justice, peace, hope, welcome, forgiveness and inclusion. As you look at our flags, wherever they are flown or displayed, I hope these values are what you choose to see and be inspired by, because they are the values we should aspire to as a nation, values revealed through Christ and his cross.
A sermon given on the Feast of St Peter and St Paul, Sunday 29th June 2025, the day after The Reverend Hannah Moore (my curate) was ordained to the priesthood at Selby Abbey.
The Feast of Peter and Paul is an ideal one on which to think about our vocation as Christians. Both these saints had a clear vocation: they were Apostles – messengers of the Gospel – and in that role anointed others to minister in the early church. Yesterday evening, many of us were in Selby Abbey as Bishop Flora continued that aspect of the Apostles’ ministry. Early on in the life of the Church the role of Apostle developed into that of Bishop – an overseer of the Church, and one who lays hands on others as they are commissioned into ministry. And so it came to pass yesterday that Bishop Flora laid hands upon Hannah, poured oil upon her head and anointed her for service as a priest in the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, beginning a new phase of Hannah’s ministry.
In the Orthodox Church, when someone is ordained priest, the Bishop and the people acclaim them by shouting the word “Axios!” three times. This means “Worthy!”. The Bishop and the people thus proclaim that this person is worthy to be a priest, worthy of their new ministry, worthy to administer the Sacraments, and acclamation by the people is a key part of the commissioning of a new priest because – and this is important – the ordination is of significance for the whole Church, not just for the new priest.
Yesterday’s service was a very special occasion for Hannah and those ordained alongside her, but it was special and important for the wider Church as well, especially churches such as ours where newly-minted priests are to minister. Nobody has a vocation in isolation. Just as Hannah is commissioned as a priest to serve among us, so we are commissioned to serve alongside her, partners in the Gospel, allowing her to grow in her priestly ministry, and as a leader, pastor, preacher, confessor, intercessor, teacher, and shepherd among us. We are all of us called through our baptism to shine as a light in the world to the glory of God the Father. but that light is, and has ever been, a communal light. And part of a new priest’s role – Hannah’s role – is to help that communal light to shine.
St Paul: lone wolf?
Take St Paul as an example. Paul can sometimes come across as a superhero – a gifted and somewhat maverick leader who plants churches and has great adventures as he single-handedly spreads the Good News of Jesus all around the eastern Mediterranean. But Paul is no lone wolf. When we delve into the Acts of the Apostles and Paul’s own letters, we learn that he has many travelling companions and collaborators in the Gospel without whom his ministry could not have happened. The list of his travelling companions includes names you may be familiar with such as Barnabas, Silas, Timothy, Mark and Luke, but there are others who only get a mention in passing – Epaphras, Gaius, Onesimus, Sosthines, Aristarchus, Jason, Sosipater, Trophimus, and Tychicus. And then, add to this those who hosted Paul on his journeys and welcomed them into their homes. Add to this the leaders of the Christian communities he left behind or to whom he wrote letters: men like Philemon, Aquila, Erastus, Ananias and the splendidly-named Dionysius the Areopagite! And women like Junia, Phoebe, Priscilla, Damaris, and Lydia. And there will be countless more who are never namechecked in scripture who played their part in Paul’s ministry.
It is sometimes said that it takes a village to raise a child. By the same token, it takes a church to raise a priest. We are the church communities where Hannah is being raised as a priest. And this is not only true of priests: it takes a church community to raise a disciple – each and every disciple. God calls, disciples respond and follow, and the Church nurtures that spark of individual faith into a flame that grows, glows, warms, enlightens, and inspires the world with the Good News of Jesus. That is our communal calling with one another. That is what yesterday’s service means for us, Hannah’s church family, as we nurture the flame of her priestly ministry here, and as she in turn nurtures our discipleship. Our churches must be places where each of us can grow in faith, and our vocation as the people of God can grow and flourish.
One of our church schools, St Mary’s in Boston Spa, has been on something of a journey in recent years. It has developed rather wonderfully, and embedded in this success has been the renewal of the Christian vision of the school. My own experience is that St Mary’s school is a lovely place to visit, an excellent learning environment, and a wonderful community to be a part of as their vicar and as a governor.
I mention this because of their school vision which I think our churches would do well to reflect upon and seek to emulate. The vision is this: Together we inspire and nurture so that everyone can flourish. That statement, rooted in the vision of the Mustard Tree which Jesus spoke of as a model of the Kingdom of Heaven, is also a vision of what the Church should aspire to. It represents a place where, from the tiniest seed of the Gospel, a mighty tree grows, a tree in whose branches all the birds of the air can find a safe place to be nurtured and flourish. It is a vision of inclusion, of safety, and of being surrounded by the truth of the Gospel: the truth that God is not distant, but is with us, all around us as our dwelling place here on earth, right now. You see, our aspiration as followers of Jesus is not that we might go to heaven when we die. A mustard tree’s roots are in the soil of the earth, not the clouds above. And so our aspiration is that we continue the ministry of Jesus here on earth, that our faith is nurtured into the living reality of living like Jesus so that things on earth might be as it is in heaven.
Together we can live out this truth in our church communities. We can be inspired by seeing Hannah’s calling blossoming into the living reality of her priestly ministry among us. We can be inspired by seeing St Mary’s School grow into a place where a vision rooted in the love of God inspires the flourishing of the whole school community. And we can live out these four truths:
that God the Father is not distant in heaven but lives on earth among his people, a loving Father among his family
that God the Son is alive and still active here on earth, bringing justice, healing, hope and love through his Church
that we are a loving community in whom God the Holy Spirit dwells; believers who live out the Gospel together, inspired to extraordinary acts of love, welcome, grace and generosity
and that we are people whose resources are at God’s disposal, whose time and gifts are used to God’s glory, and whose money is given generously to the ministry of his Church.
A priest stands among the people as a living reminder of God’s grace. As Bishop Flora told us yesterday, a priest is a living Sacrament. By inhabiting the ministry of priest, Hannah is called to be a sign of God among us, a living Gospel flame – a beacon of God’s goodness and grace to all humanity. But every one of you is a living Gospel flame as well: called to be an embodiment of God’s goodness, and of the Good News of Jesus. We are called, communally, as God’s family, to be God’s blessing in the world, called to pray for the world, to seek God’s will, to live out God’s justice, peace, grace, hope and love as church communities together.
You may not feel worthy of that calling today. Perhaps you think all this is for the holier folk, those more able to articulate their faith, the ones who have more obvious gifts, more visible gifts to offer in God’s service. People like Hannah. She does an excellent job of modelling her calling as a disciple of Christ, and now also as a priest in God’s Church. But the Good News is, that just as Hannah is worthy of her calling, you are worthy of yours as a child of God and as a follower of Jesus. That word again: Worthy! Axios!
So let us celebrate the fact that God has called Hannah to the life and work of a priest among us, just as God called Peter and Paul as his Apostles, and just as God calls each of us as disciples. Hannah, please stand at the top of the steps where we can all see you and acclaim you as worthy of your calling as priest. In fact, everyone please stand.
Hannah, we welcome you to priesthood in God’s Church here in these parishes. We, your church family acclaim you as a priest among us. We will serve the Lord alongside you here. We find you worthy, indeed. I therefore invite the people of God gathered here to echo this threefold acclamation after me.
Easter is when we start to see things differently. Everything Jesus said and did suddenly takes on a new light. This is a new era of the barriers which humanity devises being broken down, and the result is redemption. Peter, the one who had denied Jesus three times is redeemed. Our instinct for fairness says he blew it, he can’t be relied on – this alleged “Rock” of faith collapsed into a pile of sand when put under pressure. Yet in the light of the resurrection, all is forgiven, all is restored. He meets the risen Christ and is, once again, the Rock. The disciples who had fled into the night on the Thursday had reason to flee – they would be rounded up as terrorists, the henchmen of this troublesome Jewish would-be-King. How ashamed they must feel come the Resurrection, though: how can they face Jesus, the man they failed? Yet Jesus stands among them, without reproach, and come Pentecost, his words from the Last Supper’s teaching come true: the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth falls upon them, and literally inspires them to lives of immensely courageous faith and loving witness to the risen Christ. This is what redemption looks like.
The women who had faithfully witnessed the crucifixion were also the first to witness the resurrection. Legally and culturally, they were easily dismissed as unreliable witnesses, bearers of an “idle tale” (Luke 24:11) of their dead, failed Messiah. Yet God affirms their value, working past cultural misogyny to tell the Church that women’s voices must be heard, and their experience of the risen Christ cannot be overlooked. God chose to reveal the resurrection through them first, and that is no accident. It should inform us beyond a feminist reading of the text: if God chose a culturally weaker, more excluded and overlooked social group – women – as primary witnesses to the most amazing event of our salvation, that tells us something about how we should see things differently too, and act as a warning against marginalising any groups of people in the Church. We need to welcome, affirm, and be informed by the witness of women, of people from other cultures, of d/Deaf and disabled people, of victims of injustice, of people from working class backgrounds, of LGBTQIA+ people, and any other people who can witness to the power of the risen Christ. This is not a modern re-reading of Scripture: it is hard-wired into the story of our salvation and the mission of God in the world.
Fast forward to Acts 6:1-7, a passage that has been provoking me a lot recently. The image at the top of this post is a doodle on this text, where the twelve apostles lay hands on, and pray for the seven stewards they are commissioning for ministry. But this is no mere licensing ceremony: the Holy Spirit is involved, and the truth of the diversity of the Church is about to become more clearly apparent. This scene has come about because the twelve apostles face a challenge, an outcome of the Gospel radically breaking down social and cultural barriers. It has transpired that the Church isn’t just a place for believers from a Judean background, and so the way in which believers from other cultures are starting to enrich the whole community of faith means that questions need to be asked about privilege, power, justice and identity.
Widows of Judean believers were there first. They are the cultural default of the first Christian community, and even if they were from different social backgrounds among themselves, theirs is a privileged identity because they are the “people like us” (if the “us” is the twelve apostles). They are Judean followers of Jesus, just like the twelve. But the Good News of Jesus is for everyone, a universal message of salvation for the whole world, and people from cultures beyond Judean Judaism are already coming to faith in Christ and joining the Christian community. But the culture of the Church isn’t keeping pace with this growth. The needs of the widows among these newcomers are not being met and this is not only a clear injustice, it goes against Jesus’ order that people should be able to look at the Church and say “See how they love one another”. (John 13:35) in order to know they are his disciples.
So the apostles commission seven stewards for the purpose of ensuring that provisions for widows are fairly distributed. Some of these seven have Hellenistic, non-Judean names and clearly come from the same community as the widows who are not being treated justly. Representation matters! But more significantly than that, look at what happens next. Once the apostles lay hands upon them and pray over them, the Holy Spirit takes the wheel. Immediately, these empowered, more diverse ministers are inspired by the Spirit to go way beyond being stewards of alms and provisions. The very next verses in chapter 6 see Stephen emerging as a gifted speaker, a powerful evangelist and worker of miracles. And not long after this, another of these commissioned stewards, Philip, preaches and performs signs and wonders in Samaria, taking the Gospel to another distinctive (and often despised and derided) social group, and then converts the Ethiopian eunuch on his way to Gaza. So we have diversity increasing to embrace someone from not only a very different, African, intellectual, and courtly culture, but also from a gender-queer social background! God’s Church is diverse, right from the start.
When it comes to our Easter faith, liberation from human boundaries is fundamental. Christ not only broke the barriers of sin and death on the cross, he proclaimed life in all its fulness – resurrection life – and in doing so, affirmed the love of God to humanity in all our wondrous diversity. In the Easter Gospel we see women liberated from being second class humans and exalted as first witnesses. We see weak, failed friends restored, forgiven and redeemed. And yet humanity has continued to struggle with this liberation, and even in the Church, we have given in to the Spirit of the Age, a spirit of oppression and control, time after time when it comes to wanting to define who is worthy, who counts, and who does not, when it comes to justice, freedom and dignity. Over the centuries, women have struggled to assert their right to exist in so many ways: in the workplace; in sport; as composers and artists; as politicians; as priests and bishops. Despite women such as Phoebe, Junia, Priscilla and Aquila playing leading roles in the first generation of the Church, often deferred to by male leaders, it was not long before men defined the space women were allowed to occupy in the Church, and their leadership role was reduced. Women have always faced limits being placed on how they are to exist, and what space they are allowed to occupy, and in how they are defined in society. And this past week, yet another attack on women came through the courts, with trans women being the latest victim of this unrelenting, sinful, human instinct to define and limit how women may be defined and what space they can occupy in society. This week’s court decision which completely reframes the the Equality Act of 2010 and the Gender Recognition Act of 2004 to exclude protection of trans women has denied these women a space in which to exist in our society. This has not only opened the door to renewed transphobic attacks, it has also put at risk women who do not fit the cultural norm of femininity, or physical appearance. Women who appear, or dress, in a masculine way are now also at increased risk of attack. Women have fought long and hard not to be defined merely on their physical attractiveness, and their right to exist in any way other than to look pretty to men is once again under threat. Together with other disturbing trends in our society, including rising cases of misogyny, and acts of violence against women, this is the exact opposite of resurrection life, and life in all its fulness. It is an offence against the flourishing to eternal life which the resurrection proclaims and for which the Church is called to strive: to make things on earth as it is in heaven. It is sinful.
I am only a man, but I think I can understand how women have been persuaded that trans women are a threat to them by the strident voices we have heard so much of in the media. Women’s rights have always been under threat, and there have always been attempts to limit women and the space in society they occupy, and yes, as the Gospel tells us, to dismiss their concerns and reports of things that have happened to them as “an idle tale”. This week’s court ruling may seem welcome to some women who fear their space is threatened – I do get that, and there has been a sustained media narrative to that effect. But I do not agree, as the very real threat to women comes overwhelmingly from predatory men posing as trans women, not trans people themselves. This week was not a win for women, in my view – though I am happy to listen to women who can offer the witness of their own experiences to better inform my own male privilege. I am mindful today that the resurrection of Jesus teaches us that women matter and are welcome as equals in the Kingdom of God, not as an afterthought, but as a fundamental Easter truth. But people who matter, who are fundamental to our life in Christ also include people who look odd, who don’t fit in and are not “people like us” – people like the Ethiopian eunuch, people like the Hellenistic widows, or the Samaritans who in the world’s terms were outsiders, but in the Kingdom of God are beloved children, called to resurrection life – life in all its fulness. When we stand in the way of their flourishing, we stand in the way of the Mission of God.
So as a simple follower of Jesus, and as a child of the resurrection, I stand this Easter Day with trans people, with the beleaguered gender queer children of God. I stand with the women who are fearful, who don’t feel listened to. I stand with those who feel they don’t belong, those who cannot see a welcome place for them in society or the Church, and I pull out a chair at the Lord’s table and say, “Sit by me, you belong as much as I do. Let’s eat and drink richly together, and let’s talk about what we both know of the wonder and love of Jesus, who died for us both, and who lives in you and me today, and came, and died, and rose again so that we all might flourish as God’s children.”.
A letter from the vicar to parishioners in the village of Walton, Wetherby
Dear Walton Resident,
St Peter’s Church has been part of our village skyline for at least 675 years. We want to continue to be part of our lovely village’s life for years to come, but we need your help.
St Peter’s is a Grade II* listed building which is expensive to maintain. In addition to this, the overheads of heating, lighting, grounds maintenance, tuning the organ, and being served by clergy as part of the Diocese of York add to our overheads. The Sunday congregation are a faithful few and already give generously of their money, time and talents to ensure that Sunday worship continues, that we are here to serve you all when needed, and that St Peter’s can play its part in the vibrancy of village life by putting on fundraising and community events and helping the village mark the changing seasons as we celebrate Christmas, Easter, Mothering Sunday, Harvest and national celebrations. But the congregation cannot keep things going alone, and we need more people to join our Planned Giving schemes, as well as make one-off donations to support St Peter’s.
Planned Giving enables us to budget and face the future with confidence so we can meet our financial obligations. It is often incorrectly assumed that the Church of England is rich and local churches will simply keep going for ever. But the fact is that local churches like St Peter’s receive no central or national funding, and we literally rely on the generosity of parishioners and worshippers to keep going week by week.
As vicar of Walton, I love this village and am committed to continuing to serve you all. Whether you share my Christian Faith or not, if you like to be part of a village where there is an active church which clergy continue to serve, and which dearly wants to continue to be part of village life, please consider supporting St Peter’s in one of the ways detailed in the enclosed sheet if you are not doing so already.
Thank you for taking the time reading this letter. If we at St Peter’s can offer you or your loved ones any support, please do not hesitate to get in touch. The Parish Office number is 01937 844402 and our email address is bramhambenefice@outlook.com
Details of church services and other activities at St Peter’s and other churches in the Bramham Benefice may be found on our website www.bramhambenefice.org – the homepage includes our weekly Newsletter which has the most up to date information about services and events.
Yours faithfully,
The Reverend Nick Morgan, MA, Vicar of Walton
How to support St Peter’s Church
THE PARISH GIVING SCHEME
The Parish Giving Scheme allows you to set up regular giving, or to make one off payments. Visit their website www.parishgiving.org.uk and search for us there using your own postcode, then select St Peter’s, Walton,
or use the QR code (to the right).
or simply call 0333 002 1260 and a friendly operator will talk you through the process. Our Parish Giving Scheme reference number is 430643175 and our postcode is LS23 7DJ.
ANNUAL LUMP SUM DONATIONS
You might consider committing to give an annual lump sum to support St Peter’s, perhaps towards the end of each tax year, or when you receive annual dividends. If this is the case, please contact our treasurer Fiona Robinson fionarob@outlook.com to let her know how much you would like to pledge each year. This will help us budget and know we can meet our financial commitments and Fiona will tell you how to arrange these payments.
STANDING ORDERS?
If you already have a standing order to St Peter’s Church, please consider transferring your planned giving to the Parish Giving Scheme. The benefits of this scheme are:
you have the Direct Debit guarantee to safeguard your payments
each year it gives the option of increasing your payments in line with inflation which helps future-proof our budgeting. This increase is never done automatically – only on your say so.
ONE-OFF GIFTS
If you would like to make a one-off gift to St Peter’s Church please make cheques payable to: St Peter’s Church, Walton,
or make a Bank Transfer to: St Peters church Walton 55-81-11 03626237
or contact our Treasurer, Fiona Robinson – fionarob@outlook.com
St Peter’s Church, Walton, in the Diocese of York Loving and serving the village of Walton since 1350AD and committed to keeping our heartbeat of love, regular prayer and worship going in our village into the future.
Few can fail to admire Gisèle Pelicot whose bravery in waiving her right to anonymity and speaking out publicly has not only brought her justice for herself, but has blown the secrecy surrounding a culture of abuse, the full scale of which is not yet apparent. What an amazing woman, to step into the public gaze in these circumstances and bring into the light, malevolent acts veiled in darkness. Her voice has been heard, and the world is the better for it.
There is in any society a problem of privileging some voices over others. It is a problem because those with power are heard most. Elon Musk uses his wealth to amplify the voices of the rich and powerful to political ends. The UK media is selective in which politicians it gives air time and column inches to, with a preference towards the forces of power, populism and wealth. Part of the problem with historic cases of abuse in the Church of England has been a lack of willingness to challenge those in positions of privilege who are used to always being heard and respected. Those we now know to be abusers who operated within the Church of England were invariably confident, charismatic, well-connected men who were listened to, and used to being listened to, often uncritically, whose reputations were prioritized, and whose ministries were underpinned by a warped theology which reinforces inequality, exclusion and privilege. The voices of their victims were for too many years not heard, and the structures of the Church of England, historically, have worked against transparency and justice. Not all voices are equal in this world, and the Church of England must urgently get better at hearing the voices of victims of abuse, and the prophetic voices of those who are too often overlooked. This is not simply a trendy, contemporary matter: the Bible is littered with unlikely voices – voices of the powerless, the overlooked, the unlikely and the marginal through whom God spoke with great power. Abraham and Sarah, the unlikely elderly first time parents. Jacob the liar. Moses the stutterer. Ruth the Moabite woman. David the shepherd boy. Unlikely folk who were all key parts of the tale which leads to the birth of Jesus. And indeed that is how the message of the birth of Jesus came to us: unlikely voices of great significance.
Our Gospel reading centres on two amazing women: Elizabeth and Mary, each of whom is faced with life in a mess. Elizabeth has been childless but has unexpectedly become pregnant at a time of life when she thought this was impossible. Added to that, her husband is suddenly rendered mute, unable to speak. At the arrival of her relative, Mary, the baby within her leaps for joy and she is filled with the Holy Spirit. The whole situation is Inconvenient, Messy, and Weird. Then there’s Mary, who was visited by an angel – a hugely disruptive event in which she was told amazing news that she is to bear God’s Son and who reacted by saying “Yes” to God. Her life is turned upside down, and here she is visiting her relative, Elizabeth. These women’s lives are in a state of mess. Things are not as they imagined, this is not the life they had planned, but they each have a sense that they are part of something bigger than themselves.
So if anyone ever tells you that politics and religion should never be mixed, just point them to Mary’s words. We sing or say them in church as the Magnificat, regularly as part of Evensong and their familiarity can, I think, lead us to ignore how radical these words truly are. This young woman, faced with her life being turned upside down, faced with a pregnancy which is potentially socially shameful, faced with the astonishing weirdness of an angelic message that she is to be the God-bearer, she responds by rejoicing in God her Saviour. She acknowledges her lowliness before the holiness and mightiness of God; she exults in the way in which God promises to turn the power dynamics of the world upside down, to mess up the grand plans of humanity, to cast down the mighty, to exalt the humble and meek, to feed the hungry and leave the rich to their own devices, and in this Mary sees through the mess of her own circumstances to God fulfilling the promise to Abraham and the people of Israel through her and through the chaos of her life.
Christmas can be a disruptive time, a time of mess. Perhaps it’s a time of inconvenient journeys to see loved ones. A time of making up spare rooms and preparing for grandchildren to scatter paper and toys around your house. Maybe it’s a time of remembering loved ones who are no longer here to be with us around the table for Christmas dinner. For some, it’s a time of feeling pressure to spend more than we should, to do things we really have no energy for. Or a time of being rejected by members of your own family, perhaps. It can be messy. But the mess of our lives is what Jesus came to get involved in. The love of God was not revealed by an authoritative voice of privilege: not through a charismatic religious leader used to being heard unchallenged. Not a priest, prophet or king. The love of God was enfleshed among us through an unregarded, young woman who said “Yes” to God; who spoke prophetically to an audience of just a single, similarly unimportant, overlooked woman in words which resonate today; whose words welcoming God’s justice and peace we do well to echo.
The Church of England has to be ready to listen and respond to those who bravely step up to bring dark matters to light. We owe them the justice and peace of Christ in the way we respond to the abuse they endured. This is a matter of behaving prophetically and saying “Yes” to the justice of God which Mary said yes to, inconvenient and uncomfortable as it was for her to do so.
And you and me, as we prepare for Christmas, we need to ask whether we are ready to hear the voice of God in unexpected places. Are we ready to listen to the voices of the overlooked, the unimportant and expect to encounter the love of God through them? Are we ready to invite God into our hearts afresh, into lives which are not perfect, and parts of which are doubtless still messy? Like Mary, let us be ready to rejoice when God shakes our lives up. Let’s be ready to say yes to God, as Mary did, and to be bearers of Christ ourselves as we take the light of Christ into the mess of the world. Like Mary and Elizabeth, we are called to be prophets who welcome and rejoice in the justice and peace of God. May it be so. Amen.
Vicar of Villages 