<img src='' title='Author: Sian Conway' alt='' id='templ_icon_' width='' height='' /> Author: Sian Conway

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Thought for the Week

Ordinary Time

Having checked the liturgical calendar to see what great church feast would coincide with my turn to write the newsletter, I was initially underwhelmed to find that we have apparently entered ‘ordinary time’, with the weeks identified by consecutive numbered sequences (or ordinals).
While this seemed something of an anti-climax after the vibrant festivals of Easter, Pentecost and Trinity, with nothing on the horizon until the feast of Christ the King precipitates the arrival of Advent, after further reflection I came to be struck by the emphasis which is placed by the church on spiritual growth, service and stewardship during this period.
This felt particularly apt given that it comes shortly after the election (and re-election) of members of the PCC and Deanery Synod, and of course the re-election of our long-serving and much cherished Churchwardens, Jeff and Mel, at the Annual Parochial Church Meeting.
I was delighted, and am extremely grateful, to have the very great privilege of being selected to serve on the PCC for the first time. I look forward to doing all I can to support St Martin’s important ministry, vibrant cultural and congregational life, and essential work towards social justice.
For inspiration I need look no further than the example of Richard Carter whose wonderful works we have celebrated while wishing him goodbye (temporarily!) at the Making My Heart Sing concert, and at last Sunday’s Eucharist service. Hearing more about Richard’s life of spiritual service and dedication to others while in discussion with Sam was a deeply moving and uplifting experience which will live long in the memory.
Matthew Morrison
Categories
Thought for the Week

Making My Heart Sing

Wednesday evening made my heart sing. Looking out into St Martin’s from the front and seeing all those people, so many of you from so many different parts of the last twenty years of my life, was something I will never ever forget. It felt overwhelmingly special- the music, the food, the art, the poems, the words and most of all the people and friendships that have filled my life in this open and wonderful church. I came home overflowing. This is such an incredible community- full of generosity, kindness, and love for God and I was more aware than ever what a privilege it is to belong here. In the Gospel, Jesus preaches ‘The kingdom of heaven is coming and now is’. We often focus on the stuff in our world which we are anxious about and fear, but there are times when we more than glimpse the kingdom of God is not just a future event, but now is- embodied in each one of us, in the music of our souls, in the love and kindness we share, in the life of the Spirit and in the wonder of Christ we follow. To see you was to feel to feel so full of gratitude for you, this church and for God. There is a psalm which describes the beauty of that friendship and unity in this way:
Behold how good and wonderful it is
to dwell together in unity.
It is like the precious oil upon the head,
running down …
It is like the dew of Hermon
running down upon the hills of Zion.
For there the Lord has promised his blessing:
even life for evermore. Psalm 133
Charles de Foucauld used to say, ‘If that is what the disciples of Jesus are like how I long to meet their master’. So many of you, in so many ways- in struggle and in joy- have shown me Jesus. Thank you all so much. Thank you from the bottom of my heart and my thank you becomes my prayer. I would like to end by quoting the words of Dom Hélder Câmara:
Of all your lessons, Master,
one is so important
I forget about the rest …
Teach me to reach for the infinite,
the light, which on the horizon,
helps heaven come down to earth
and earth rise up to heaven.
Revd Richard Carter
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Sermons

Living in the Circle of God’s Trinity

A sermon preached at St Martin-in-the-Fields on May 31, 2026 by Revd Richard Carter

Giving Thanks for Twenty Years at St Martin-in-the-Fields

How can we live authentically  in the midst of a world at the moment- a world of so much distrust anger, division and conflict. How can we live in hope – truthful to ourselves and all that we were created to be and truthful to God and all that God calls us to be

Today Trinity Sunday, the day we celebrate the Father the Son and the Holy Spirit and as I reflect on twenty years of being part of this church I want to celebrate the hope of our Christian faith. The hope that it is possible  not to belong to these powers of fear and division and prejudice or to mirror back the things we fear , but rather to choose the God  of love as our home.

This is the meaning of Trinity- not some formular we try to in vain to understand. It is the love we live. It is the house of love with the ever open doors that Dick Sheppard all those years ago saw in his vision. “This is where we are going to learn about the love of God” and “This is the place we call home.” This  house of love is beautifully  expressed in the icon of the Holy Trinity, painted by Andrew Rublev in 1425.  It is the icon most of you will have seen many times before and today is on the front of your order of service and behind the altar in front of us.  I hope that even in reproduction it can still speak to us.

Three persons which seem like angels sit around a table. Each angel alike but slightly different each taking a different position at the table

Perhaps this is  based on the mystery of the three angels who appeared at the Oak of Mamre, who ate the meal Sarah and Abraham generously offered to them and who announced the unexpected birth of Isaac (Genesis 18). It is the mystery of hospitality expressed in how Abraham’s and Sarah in welcoming strangers welcomed the three angels unaware, but is not this also the story of not only how they welcomed but how God welcomes them into his love- and welcomes us. Welcome us into a covenant of love. Rublev’s icon as we gaze upon is speaking of a timeless reality that we are being invited to share the life of God- Father Son and Holy Spirit

Behold- the three are seated around a stone table- an altar not so different from the stone altar at the front of our church today. And on the altar is a chalice- a chalice the sign of God’s love for the world- God’s total outpouring of love, Christ’s sacrificial love- the sign of our forgiveness. And at the very centre of the table or altar there is a gap- a gap which Christ’s with his two outstretched fingers behind the altar seem to be blessing and the angel- to the right- believed to be the symbol of the Holy Spirit seems to be pointing or indicating us towards. And the humble figure on the left- believed to be the God figure has made space at the table for us to come to the table too and complete the circle.  Notice the way in this icon we are not confronted with power or kingdom, or throne, or hierarchy instead we gaze at three  figures- figures of beauty and gentleness- Notice their posture as though each one seems to be listening to the other and the way each figure seems to be bowing in humble reverence to the other. There is a huge tenderness and beauty both in their relationship to each other and in the space they have created into which they are calling us. For this icon, as we gaze upon it, more and more seems to be saying that that place in the circle- that place around the table is open for all of us. And that small rectangle on the front of the altar is the space into which each one of us is invited to come. What we see here is not an explanation of the trinity for us to understand rather it is an invitation to come home- to come to the table and to enter into and participate in the life of God.

As we gaze on this circle of love- perhaps we begin to realise a truth that the church has sometimes lost. That the Trinity is not a doctrine it  is relationship-an eternal community of love. Early Christians used the beautiful Greek word Perichoresis meaning- around- to make room to dwell.  It’s very essence is inviting us home. It’s not about a hierarchy or an oppressive power. Its not something fixed or static. It’s not the altar of judgment- it is the table of welcome. Everyone at the table is equal- equally loved.

And today I want to say that one of the places where I have found that altar of love is here at St Martin-in-the-Fields. At this altar- I have experienced the relationship and it is not a static thing but a dynamic living circle that goes on and on deepening and inviting and including and widening. And this space at the table is for each one of us and everyone outside of us.  And somehow this is why a church like this can become a home- for all- a mother house -Christ  like a  mother hen gathering us all under his wings- where everyone can taste and see that they too can be welcomed at the table and become part of God’s love. And this Trinity is not confined to a building – it has open doors -this circle ripples outwards onto our streets and into homes. I can think of thousands of examples of this rippling outwards over the last twenty years. I wish I could mention them all but here as a taste of the wine at the centre of the Table-

Mally Lightbourn who showed hospitality week after week in her own home- welcoming strangers and sharing food- and many  others who in countless acts of hospitality and care -welcome and build community-  Alison Hardwick who diligently served coffee and her humble insightful wisdom,   Bronwyn who gathers and energises and cares so much, Jeff serving with endless dedication delicious shepherd’s pie or cheese shortbread, or Mel who honours and loves with bone china cups of tea and cakes or our vicar Sam Wells welcoming us to his home cooking for all his team last Thursday and giving space for each one of us to share our stories and gifts.  Or kind gentle David cooking huge pots of rice for the International Group, Ebenezer the constant calm and dignified servant of us all serving food to the hungry every single Sunday for 10 years- Asanka up all night to cook the Easter breakfast- or Amrit and his staff who brought huge pots of rice and dal during covid and helped us feed those left behind in Trafalgar Square, and  who beams, as week after week his Sikh Punjab restaurant provides delicious curries for our International Group facing homelessness at cost price and says it is a blessing to serve our church. Or Sophie always ready to help and serve  and notice those who have been forgotten or fallen through the cracks.  I will leave 100s out because there are too many of you who have learnt what it means to be both guest and host  and to share the generosity and hospitality of the trinity and the circle of God’s love. The Trinity is about Being With and this church is a constant experiment, improvisation and revelation about what being with means.

And then another Trinitarian gift- the gift of prayer. Prayer in a culture where people are taught to compete and where minds are often crammed with stress and  fear of failing and algorithms of scandal, distrust and violence.  . And where so often the phycology of our time teaches us to bend inwards on ourselves and crushes our human longings and compassion and spirit- And yet here in this place prayer which allows us to unbind and let us go free. To seek beauty and truth.  Prayer which opens us up to the wonder of God all around us out of the church and into the streets and parks in meditation. Prayer and silence and listening which expands and tenderises our hearts. Prayer which lifts us into the circle of love or which in the voices of our choirs and prayers or the mystery of silence expresses the inexplicable  music of God

And in this Trinity everyone though different can become the bearers of God’s love– the circle of God’s loving “shinning out like shook foil” in most unexpected and wonderful ways. A homeless migrant offering his sweat shirt to another man feeling the cold more than himself.  Our International Group on the day out to Worthing sharing fish and chips,  cheerful in sun rain and splashing and laughing in the sea. A man who once arrived destitute and in despair having lost everything  now with partner and beautiful daughter who take me to see the flamingos in London Zoo because the daughter loves the colour pink best.  Trinity is at work as 100 people make a pilgrimage to canterbury each helping each other over styles, to carry heavy bags or bandage blistered feet.  Trinity is 100 people gathered online to pray writing each other prayers of encouragement. It is 140 of our Nazareth Community and Companions on retreat together sitting in front of the Nazareth Cross from all walks and different parts of the world realising that together in community we have come home.

And of course the Trinity – the open space at the table is there in pain and struggle and need too. The person facing the difficult diagnosis surrounded by love and prayer- in sickness and even in death. The person struggling with addiction who is still loved and longed for that he might become free and even if he doesn’t will know that he is still part of us still loved.  And it is the Trinity that longs for justice- that faces the horror of violence and animosity of our world with courage but constantly resists the temptation to become like the oppressor. The Trinity that says in the icon the only way to solve the problems and the conflict and the pain is to come to the table  as equals and to listen to the other. The Trinity which says resurrection is possible

I believe that Trinity is not a formular we fit God into it is the life of the Gospels we are called to live- and this Church does ,live. “You do what you say on the tin” my brother says. It is the song we sing and which our wonderful choirs sing. It is the light we try to light in the darkness. It is not always easy. We sometimes get trapped and bogged down and turn away from Christ and get it wrong. Christ can get lost in our processes. But he will not stay forgotten for it is in the forgotten places – the places where people have often been  overlooked and forgotten that the trinity of love is often most in evidence. I wonder where you see Father Son and Holy Spirit- perhaps at a disability conference where people who previously were given no place at the table now do. Among those bereaved and grieving meeting together for ten weeks to share their stories in the Being With the End of Life course and finally finding a space where they can express their loss and be understood. Or among LGBTQI+ people who felt judged, lost , excluded who can now celebrate our love and humanity and become the prophetic voice to the whole church and to nations where people of different sexuality are still being beaten, bullied and victimised. And among asylum seekers and migrants who so often have been treated as scapegoats but who here have enriched the life of the church and are no longer outsiders but at the heart of our home- creating home.  In the Nazareth Manifesto Sam wrote: It is the miracle of God’s grace that God meets our scarcity  through the abundance we discover in those apparently more exposed to scarcity than ourselves. We cannot understand, listen to, learn or receive grace from people, unless we inhabit their world, which we see as valuable for its own sake- unless we learn to share from the same table or sit down together on the same ground. There is no goal beyond restored relationship. Reconciliation is the Gospel. It is the Trinity

May God through his grace continue to make this a mother house of welcome, healing and reconciliation where all are fed. And may the trinity of God’s love the Father Son and Holy Spirit fill us as we go simply, humbly attentively, out into the world discovering God’s circle of love is already there- waiting to be revealed. And may we enter that circle of love which helps heaven come down to earth and lifts earth up to heaven.

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Thought for the Week

Come, Holy Spirit

Pentecost is often described as the ‘birthday of the church’, but that can make it sound like the church began as an institution, a project, or an organisation. The story in Acts tells something richer and stranger than that. The disciples are gathered in uncertainty. They do not yet have a strategy, a programme, or a mission plan. What they have is one another – and the promise of Jesus: ‘I am with you always’ (Matthew 28:20).

Then comes Wind, Fire, Speech, and Courage.

Pentecost is not primarily about the church going somewhere. It is about God coming near. The Holy Spirit does not arrive to turn frightened disciples into religious entrepreneurs. The Spirit forms them into a people capable of being with God, with one another, and with the world God loves.

This is deeply important in a culture shaped by hurry, anxiety, performance, and results. We are often tempted to imagine that the church exists to solve problems, defend itself against criticism, or grow by becoming bigger and busier. Yet Pentecost reminds us that before the church does anything, it receives everything.

The miracle of Pentecost is not simply that many languages are spoken. It is that many people hear themselves addressed in love. Strangers become neighbours. Fear becomes Communion. Difference is not erased but is celebrated and embraced.

In this season, the Spirit invites us to ask not only ‘What should the church do?’ but also ‘How shall we be with one another?’

Can we continue to nurture a community, where with respect for one another, and within safe boundaries: the lonely find companionship, the grieving find patience, children find delight, the elderly find honour, and the wounded find welcome.

The Spirit rarely works through spectacle alone. More often, the Spirit appears in shared bread, attentive listening, faithful friendship, and unexpected joy. Pentecost teaches us that God’s abundance is greater than our fear of scarcity. There is enough grace for every language, every generation, every sorrow, and every hope.

So, this Pentecost, may we pray not merely for success, but for presence.
Not merely for activity, but for faithfulness.
Not merely for growth in numbers, but for holiness.

Come, Holy Spirit,
and teach us again how to be the Body of Christ – with God, with one another,
and with the world.

Revd Andrew Woodward

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Thought for the Week

Ascension Day Newsletter

Last week I went to a book festival. I love hearing from authors and learning about new writers. But this time my imagination was caught by a workshop I attended on journalling. For a while I have kept a book where I write things I have read or heard that have meaning for me. They often lead into, or stem from, contemplative prayer and become reminders of what was important at different times in my life. My aim, in this workshop, was to enrich my journalling.

The presenter gave us several ideas, all helpful, but the one that really spoke to me involved looking at a small collection of cards. We were invited to focus on one card, I chose: ‘what am I ready to loosen a grip on?’

So often we carry hurts around with us. Some, of course can be resolved by talking to the person who might have hurt us, but not all. These can become heavy and cumbersome, quite literally, dragging us down. I chose to focus on a close member of my family who I can find irritating. As soon as I started writing I realised that I wanted to focus on all of the ‘goodness’ of this person. It prompted me to remember all of his amazing strengths, to look at the world ‘through his glasses’, and to focus on the love he gives and receives from so many people who I call dear friends.

What was so remarkable about this exercise, was the way it changed how I think and act towards my family member. I completed my entry by reminding myself that none of us can control our feelings, they are involuntary. So, the trick is to control how I respond. I thought about things I could do if I feel irritated, that would switch on my compassion.

And will this last…? Of course there will be times when I snap back with an ungenerous comment when I’ve been irritated, but I will try to forgive myself, look back at my journal and remember how lucky I am to have this person in my family!

Wendy Quill

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Sermons

Act Justly

It’s a common saying, attributed to Cornel West, that justice is what love looks like in public. When the prophet Micah reminds God’s people of their calling, he understands the simple call to be with God, in the words walk humbly. He realises half of life is about seeking to repair broken relationships; hence the words, love mercy. But those two provide a platform for seeking a world better than the one we entered: so he says, act justly.

I’ve come to apprehend three ways to seek justice. The first is to trust that we inhabit a system that works, and what’s required is to invest in it and commit to it and to use it to its full extent. When Martin Luther equated vocation with a professional calling, that was what he was assuming: that if you become a teacher, I become a farmer, and another person become a local councillor, and we all work conscientiously and collaboratively, all shall be well. That approach is currently out of fashion; it’s under attack from those who feel institutions are failing them, leaders are useless and oppression is everywhere. So to the second model. Here you work against the system: you march in protest, identify miscarriages of justice, unearth ghastly forms of torture, cruelty and exploitation, and seek redress. It’s a bold and noble calling, but it has two challenges. One is, it depends on a well-functioning first approach, because once you’ve brought dreadful things to light, you need there to be a trustworthy system to process the accountability you’re demanding. The other is, it can be a lot easier to criticise and denounce than to build and construct. The third approach is to create an alternative model, not trying to take over the whole society, but offering a vision to inspire and invigorate, to put a song in a weary throat, to say hope may be dead but it’s alive at least in this one place. The weakness of this model is it can leave the major movements of society untouched. The strength is it can be truly empowering, and can practise new ways of relating that can become widely influential once tested in the laboratory of one community.

The interesting thing about St Martin-in-the-Fields is that you can perceive it as any of these three models. Some see it as the epitome of the system – the Royal Parish Church, the heart of the establishment, the embodiment of the Church of England, with classical music and fine architecture and visitors who’d be quite at home in John Lewis and the National Trust. Others love its history of protest, including Anti-Apartheid, LGBT rights, saving Covent Garden, and upholding those in the midst of homelessness and migration. Others again see it as a laboratory of practical and theological ideas, with its pioneering social enterprise and its dynamic intentional community, its use of livestreaming and its challenging understanding of why Jesus came.

The secret it seems to me of our recent flourishing is that we have become a crucible where all three of these approaches operate side by side and intermingle with one another. Occasionally they clash and there are moments of misunderstanding, tension and even hurt. Probably everyone has their own sense of which one they think they’re pursuing, but on the whole people are pretty accommodating of this remarkable diversity of callings. In our 300th year within our current building, we can seldom have had a greater sense that what we’re looking forward to is so much more exciting than what we cherish from the past, precious as that is.

I want now to acknowledge, celebrate and thank just some of the people who represent this remarkable crucible and have brought out its wonders over the last year. It’s hard to think of someone who combines all three approaches more inspiringly than Richard Carter. His announcement of retiring from stipendiary ministry yet taking up a staff role after the summer as Head of Community Life has been described as the greatest death and resurrection moment for 2000 years. The Holy Spirit still has great wonders to bring forth from Richard’s storehouse of holy mischief. Andrew Woodward has been an amazing addition to our team and in no time has become deeply loved and integral to everything good that happens here. I’m in his debt every day. Cath Duce continues to make our Companions of Nazareth a thing of wonder and joy. Our wardens embody that joint pursuit of love and justice to which I referred, and the good order of our community is a tribute to them and their relentless pursuit of bringing out the best in everyone and everything. Jane Templeman has become a formidable and insightful treasurer and formed an awesome partnership with Andrew Woodward, Jon Briggs and Allison Polius to bring our finances into the best state for some time.

Chris Denton continues to be a dynamic and indefatigable leader of our commercial, creative and site enterprises. SMITFL is gradually emerging from the horrors of covid and Chris has shown extraordinary resilience and dexterity in leading our community in these areas. We said goodbye to Lucy Brace as our outstanding Head and People of Culture and are glad to have Kate Walker as her worthy successor. Among an excellent team, Ryan Tyler’s faithfulness running estates and Jon Briggs’ dedicated thoroughness in overseeing finance have especially supported the PCC. We thanked Lucy Littlewood for her leadership of the Trust and have just welcomed Pete Warman as its new Director and are full of anticipation for his impact. After the ravages of covid, SMITFL and the PCC would not be here without the Trust and we should never forget it.

The energy of this community for choral music is astonishing. We all love the Choir for its talent and commitment, and Jenny continues to lead with style and brilliance. She’s played a crucial role in the emergence of the Noon Service as a treasured part of our liturgical programme. Andrew Earis continues both to direct our vast music programme, to push us into new partnerships nationally and internationally, to raise our profile in broadcasting, and to make our music an ever more profound and prestigious aspect of our public ministry. James Fawcett and his trustees have taken Being With into new territory as an independent charity, and under Flora Saxby’s guidance Being With at St Martin’s goes from strength to strength. Andrew and Sian Yates have led HeartEdge with a steady and resourceful hand and it continues to be a key part of our public ministry. Louisa Price our archivist is a jewel without price and her initiative around our tercentenary is a source of joy and delight. Among countless volunteers, Kristine Welllington, Steve Adams and our stewards and online stewards, Anne Langley and our flower arrangers, our children’s and youth leaders, our International Group hosts, Bron Sanders and our hospitality team continue to do a stellar job. Our Education Group gave us our grandest-ever Autumn Lectures, an outstanding Lent Course and excellent Parish Awayday. Kristine Wellington has been an exceptional Safeguarding Officer, and I hugely value her counsel and wisdom. Our vergers continue to serve us with selflessness and dedication. Our justice and peace group, Global Neighbours and eco church are among a host of leaders of and participants in our many activities.

Sherry Taylor served us wholeheartedly and spiritedly since 2023 and it was a difficult moment saying goodbye, but it’s not really goodbye because she’s now working for the Trust. Sian continues to be a shining light in our community and she’s the keystone in the arch that holds everything together. In Jolley Gosnold we have an outstanding ordinand and since playing Jesus it’s remarkable how holy he’s become. Maddie Naisbitt has filled the pastoral assistant role with talent and application and we’re lucky she’ll be with us an additional year as pastoral coordinator.

Our Chinese lay leadership team chaired by Anne Chow is a marvellous example to the whole community of what’s possible with imagination, dedication and generosity of heart. I also want to thank Alice Chan for her courageous work chairing the Bishop Ho Ming Wah Association.

International Group remains our signature outreach ministry. The relationships made there are a constant source of healing and hope, and the annual Palm Sunday drama, this time also with a bonus Easter Day drama, together Canterbury pilgrimage and south coast trip display that vision in beautiful ways. The Nazareth Community remains source of wonder and inspiration, and the Companions of Nazareth continue to expand and deepen. Our online community enriches our life in countless ways. Online Morning Prayer, compline and Saturday walks are tremendous gifts. Sermon Workshop is on a short break and will soon reappear as How then Shall we Preach. Our disability work, led by Fiona MacMillan, including the 15th theology and disability conference, continues to lead the way in perceptions of disability, church and God. Chair Bob Demming and the Friends Committee embellish our wider ministry.

Duncan Shrubsole has led the Charity to continued success.  Pam Orchard navigates The Connection through the challenging environment the sector faces. Among our many dedicated and talented non-executives, I want particularly to recognise our chairs, Mark Bromley at the company, Malcolm Butler at the Trust, and Mark Devlin at the Charity, and to thank Tim Jones for his long service at The Connection.

The annual meeting is more than anything about good governance, and in that spirit, I want to thank our PCC members who give so many hours to the work of strategy, scrutiny and culture-setting. A particular word of thanks for Rachel Morrison, Lois Howarth, Mr Chan, Nike Awoyinka, Jonathan Edwards and Dan Kaszeta for their combined 33 years of service.

Returning to the three ways of doing justice, Mother Teresa said, ‘Justice without love is not justice. Love without justice is not love.’ In the end our combination of working with the system, opposing the system and modelling an alternative system, rests on the fact that we’re not just adopting a strategy to achieve justice. We’re seeking to go beyond justice to what Mother Teresa describes as love. What matters to God I suspect is not the quality of our balance sheet or the numbers of people involved in our events or the size of our congregation but whether we go beyond justice to love. Mother Teresa also said, ‘Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.’ St Martin’s is a community where a lot of people do a lot of small things with great love. And have done for a long time. And, God willing, will do so for many, many years to come. Thank you for being at the heart of this project, which I believe is very close to the heart of God.

Categories
Sermons

This is Eternal Life

A sermon preached at St Martin-in-the-Fields on May 17, 2026, by Revd Dr Sam Wells

Reading for address: John 17: 1-11

If you take a walk from the centre of Rome above the Tiber River and stroll up Aventine Hill you’ll find the Priory of the Knights of Malta, a religious order of crusaders founded in Jerusalem in the eleventh century. It’s the oldest surviving chivalric order in the world. It’s protected by a rather forbidding and far-from-beautiful ten-foot green door. If you kneel down at the door and look through the keyhole, you get an unforgettable surprise. What you see through the keyhole is a view, perfectly framed by the cypress trees of the priory garden, of the rotunda of St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, two miles away.

I want you to think of this experience as a metaphor for eternal life. Given that eternal life is central to the message of Jesus; death is inevitable for all of us and pressing for many of us; and trust in eternal life is perhaps the key point of difference between Christianity and the secular world, it’s surprising the church doesn’t talk very much about eternal life. Why? Perhaps because we’re absorbed in our present struggles, our fights with one another near and far, our challenges in income, relationships and health; or because we’re distracted by the drama of art or sport or politics; or when it comes to mortality, we’re preoccupied with suffering and unfairness and dismay; or, when we do reflect on life beyond death, we get into a tussle about who gets there and whether we have to believe certain things and if other faiths qualify.

While it’s understandable we get preoccupied with the pressures of our lives, the crises of the world or the obsessions of our imaginations, one of the most obvious reasons we come to church is to spend an hour disentangled from the anxieties on this side of the big green door, and focused on what we can spy through the keyhole. The reason we zero in on Jesus so much is because Christianity is the conviction that Jesus is the keyhole that provides us with everything we need to know about what’s on the other side of that green door. I believe we misunderstand Jesus if we treat him and his words and deeds as principally about offering us the mechanisms to get through the green door and the rules to get to the other side. Instead, my conviction is that Jesus is the keyhole through which we can see beyond the door; and our calling in this life is to inhabit a world that resembles what we see though that keyhole.

So for us to imagine eternal life means to discover what Jesus shows us when we stoop to look through that keyhole. Just as through the Aventine keyhole we can see cypress trees, a manicured garden path, a group of hedges, the sky, and the dome of St Peter’s Basilica, just so I want to point out the five things about eternal life we see through the keyhole we call Jesus. The first thing we see is, it’s about God. It isn’t a mechanical thing about physics and chemistry: it’s about a relationship. Today’s gospel reading is a conversation between Jesus and the Father. Going beyond the green door means entering the relationship of the holy Trinity. When we read the words, ‘This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent,’ the word ‘know’ is present tense, which means it’s about a dynamic unfurling relationship, not a static tableau. If we’ve known profound companionship of discovery and mutuality in this life, that’s just a glimpse of the all-encompassing wonder of being met and understood and cherished beyond the green door.

The next thing is this special phrase, ‘before the world existed’ – or as it’s sometimes translated, ‘before the foundation of the world.’ What we see through the keyhole was always there – it’s the relationship of Father, Son and Spirit, which was there long before we came along. The mystery of the keyhole is not that there’s a secret view to the other side, but that somehow there’s existence this side of the green door. We’re so fixated on the drama of our lives that we think existence on our side of the door is the normal thing and what lies through the keyhole is exotic and speculative and beyond our imagination. But in reality, our side of the door is flimsy and transitory, while what lies beyond is boundless and forever. Jesus didn’t appear simply to sort out the flaws on our side of the door: he came to show us to look through the keyhole into eternity and invite us to join him there.

The third thing we realise when we look through the keyhole is there are real continuities between this side of the green door and what we behold beyond. If it were entirely different, we’d need to be entirely different to dwell there. I find the word ‘transcendence’ helpful. If things are exactly the same on both sides of the green door, we call that correspondence. If they’re totally altered, we call that transformation. Transcendence has the similarity of correspondence plus the difference of transformation. To say eternal life transcends this life is like saying Jesus’ resurrected body bears the scars of Good Friday. In heaven we’re still truly human but through Jesus we’ve gone beyond our grievous shortcomings and our mortal limitations. It would be wrong to say there’s sadness and suffering in eternity, but the truths that those things have taught us in this life remain with us, only now as wisdom rather than sorrow.

Next we realise we had no idea what lay beyond the green door before we stooped down to look through the keyhole. Eternal life is not something we work to earn, or something we have a right to attain. Did we have a right to this life we’re in right now? Do we have any entitlement to demand this life should be peaceful or secure, happy or fulfilling, comfortable or exciting? So where do we get the idea we have any more claim on eternal life? This life is pure gift. We did nothing whatsoever to deserve it or earn it. Eternal life is the same. Before we were born, we had no idea there was such a thing as this life. Now we’re here, we only have a glimpse of the next life. But what this life and the next share is, we can’t manufacture, create, construct, or merit either of them.

And the fifth thing about eternal life is we can glimpse it – but it’s fundamentally beyond. When we think about Jesus, half the time he seems a faraway figure, and we only know about parts of his life and a fraction of his sayings, and we wonder if the manuscripts are reliable, and it’s a long time ago in an obscure outreach of the Roman Empire, and billions of years after the world began and so on. The other half of the time it feels there’s so much in the gospels and it’s inexhaustible and constantly challenging and beautiful and awesome in depth and wonder and love. Likewise, we know next to nothing about eternal life. We can’t imagine eternity, whether it has time and change or not, where it has any limits of space or population and how we all get to relate to each other and the creation and the Trinity at the same time. But we do see Jesus. And he is the keyhole through which we see everything else. And maybe if we had more, we’d find it overwhelming and impossible to take in. Maybe Jesus is as much of eternity as we can deal with. And we trust that what we can’t see is of a character with what we see in Jesus. The glimpse we see in Jesus is everything we need.

Now just see how what Jesus shows us in the keyhole changes everything about how we live. If you think again about the Aventine keyhole, what we see through it isn’t just the rotunda of St Peter’s Basilica. We also see hedges and trees and a path and the sky. That means if we want to imagine eternal life, we pay close attention to the creation around us, because we expect it to give us clues about the life to come. Having looked through the keyhole, we gaze with even greater wonder at the glorious creation around us. And we treat every friend and stranger like someone we’ve glimpsed through the keyhole: on the other side of the green door, we’ll see them again, and their full glory will be revealed, and we’ll realise we were in the presence of angels all along. So we start to treat people as if they were angels, and look to them to show us glimpses of forever. More than anything we don’t regard life as a scarce resource. Yes, this life will come to an end, and sooner or later we’ll come up against the green door. But we’ve seen through the keyhole, and we know the eternal beyond is like Jesus, and we know nothing could bind Jesus in death, and his resurrection opens the door to everlasting life. So we don’t need to use terms like ‘bucket list,’ because there’s no rush to do everything before we die. We don’t have to say ‘Life isn’t a rehearsal,’ because it is, actually. We don’t have to eke out just that little bit more existence through extreme medication or desperate treatment, because death is not the end of a limited story but the gateway to an eternal one.

In the season of Ascension, it’s time not, for a change, to focus on the immediate and urgent and distracting and comforting, but to set our eyes and hearts on forever. We each approach a threshold when we must confront the inevitability of our own death. I believe the Aventine keyhole gives us a way to do that. I hope that when that moment comes for me, I won’t focus on the enormity of the green door, but on the remarkable keyhole. And I’ll concentrate my eyes on Jesus. And through the keyhole he provides, I’ll be able to espy everything I need to know about the garden beyond. And I’ll trust that, through the keyhole Jesus has provided for me and for all of us, I’ll enter that garden and come into the wonder of eternal life. And it will be as infinitely more wonderful than this life as the view beyond is than the tiny keyhole. And I’ll be confident that there’ll be nothing to fear because there’s nothing beyond the keyhole that’s out of character with Jesus. And I’ll be happy, because I’ll realise that all this has been God’s purpose – from before the foundation of the world.

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Thought for the Week

Serendipity?

‘I’m sorry granny, it’s here with my nines.’ Problem solved, the mystery missing card in the finale of a family game which left granny with three eights – there should have been four.

‘No need to say sorry- easily done!’ Good game, game over, lots of fun.

Just a tiny moment in time, perhaps serendipity, it left me journeying through some reflective moments.

Sorry – a tiny word: admission, regret, contrition, sympathy. Working with students in conflict, a muttered ‘sorry’ deepens resentment, distances reconciliation. Time is needed, to bring feelings under control, allow reflection on ‘sorry because …’ then next steps, to change attitudes and behaviours and find strategies to manage future challenges. A microcosm of our life-time work – it leads to the Eucharist: ‘My Body, broken for you…My Blood, shed for you…for the forgiveness of sins.’ ‘As often as you eat and drink, remember me.’ Jesus knows the need for ‘often’, knows I need time to come again and again – confess, repent, forgive and be forgiven.

Now in a large marquee in a tiny English west coast town, I’m awe-struck listening to Church Mission Society missionaries who were living through the Rwanda revival, begun in the middle of last century. Again and again, we heard stories of how lives had been changed and hearts warmed and how the forgiving love of Christ drew many into the knowledge and love of God. The stories were simple, humble, dynamic.

An elderly man came onto the stage, Dr Kenneth Moynagh. In his mid-fifties, I learned soon after, his ravaged appearance caused by illness from years of service in the unforgiving climate. A highly qualified physician and surgeon, Ken, smiling, described how he had gone into the lab to create a slide for examination. A young technician offered to take over. ‘You don’t do it like that; this is the way we do it.’

Ken, pausing, held the room – we imagined his reaction: ‘How dare you. Do you know who I am? Do you know I spent 10 years of my life gaining qualifications before you were even born?’ Not Ken. Still smiling, his gentle voice powerfully described his response: ‘I’m so sorry. Can you show me how you do it?’

The room was silent. The love of Christ embodied, the risen Christ speaking.

Summed up in two lines from Ken’s poem based on Galatians 5:
‘Gentleness, Love yielding to all that is not sin;
Goodness, Love in actions, that flow from Christ within.’

From a family card game to a school, to west England and East Africa – to the heart of Christ. Serendipity? The Holy Spirit? God is all and in all, moving in mysterious ways. Lord give us eyes to see and ears to listen.

Mel Adams

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Thought for the Week

The Presence of God

Brother Lawrence grew up in France during the Thirty Years’ War of the seventeenth century. On the battlefield, aged 16, he saw a leafless tree. Perceiving that the tree would be in full leaf in a few months, he saw it as a symbol of God’s ability to transform the human heart. He became a monk in Paris and spent his life cooking for 200 other monks.

He describes how, when he stopped trying to be holy, he could start simply to be present. He succeeds in staying present because he renounces the instrumentalisation of faith. To be devoted to God as a method to secure an afterlife, he recognises, would be not love, but transactional commerce: true love sets aside the urge to determine, or even know, the outcome. Lawrence finds that keeping himself in God’s presence generates a holy freedom, indeed a familiarity with God, that dissolves intercession into seamless exchange, and makes acts of devotion become habitual. Thus the presence of God becomes perfectly natural.

One editor has paraphrased Lawrence’s understanding of presence like this. As he looks around the world, Lawrence sees people running in circles. They are looking for a treasure map – when the gold for which they are searching is under their feet. The treasure is already in their soul. They do not need to go searching for it. That treasure is God. It is as if they have a king living in their guest room, yet exit the house to beg for pennies in the street. Instead of abiding in the presence of the king, they leave the treasure room of their soul to beg for crumbs of satisfaction from elsewhere.

By patient application and self-acceptance, Lawrence allows the Holy Spirit to make Christ present not only in moments of intentional worship but through daily kitchen tasks. In the words of Mother Teresa, ‘Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.’

Revd Dr Sam Wells

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Thought for the Week

100 Reasons for Living

On Wednesday evening, the church was packed with people eager to get their hands on a copy of Richard Carter’s new book, 100 Reasons for Living: The Diary of a Grateful Heart. I had the privilege of interviewing Richard about the book, and of listening to what inspired him to write this profoundly spiritual and enriching fragmentary autobiographical gem. As Rowan Williams says in the foreword to the book, and as Richard emphasised, more often than not the reasons for living are people, fellow companions on the road of his life who have revealed the presence, love, grace, and goodness of God. Richard’s disarming humility and generosity welcome the reader into an encounter with God, who is both the creator of all things and a close, loving companion who walks alongside us, no matter how difficult things get, no matter how many twists and turns there are on the journey.

I, too, have reflected on the people in my life who have become reasons for living, those who have shown me the wonder of God. I am particularly grateful today for Sherry Taylor, our Head of Ministry Operations, on her final Sunday with us in this role. She has been a true gift to the church, to the staff team, and to me personally. There are some people in this life who care so abundantly, shine so brightly, and love without ever counting the cost. That is Sherry. I have been blessed by her; we all have. And while she will be missed, I will forever be grateful to have had her as a companion on the road.

Jolley Gosnold