Saint George is the patron saint of England - but actually he wasn't English at all. His story is so steeped in myth and legend that it is virtually impossible to separate fact and fiction. The followers would write up fabulous accounts of his life, and so improving St George's reputation, but that did nothing to enlighten us about his real life. Apparently he was born in an area which is now in Turkey. Legend tells us that his parents were Christian. He became a Roman soldier but protested against Rome's persecution of Christians. As a result St George was imprisoned and tortured, but he stayed true to his faith and was beheaded.

He is not only the patron saint of England but also of many other countries and places in the world. He looks after a wide ranging array of professions too. The flag of Saint George - a red cross on a white background - is part of the Union Jack. 

How did this saint’s sign become so prominent? Neither the Germans nor the Catalans, who name him as their patron too, adopted his sign for their flag after all. St George's reputation in England grew with the returning crusaders, and in the twelfth century the Council of Oxford named 23rd April Saint George's Day. Many believed they saw St George fighting on the English side at the Battle of Agincourt. So from the 14th century onwards Saint George was regarded as a special protector of the English. English soldiers wore the sign of Saint George on chest and back. He became, in the popular imagination, English.
Of course the Union Jack does not consist of the St George’s Cross alone, and when I started looking at Saint George – his story and the use of his sign – I became aware again of what a composite creation the British Flag is. So I have traced its development and am amazed at the parallels this has brought out for me.

Here is the sequence of events in pictorial form. In the beginning there was England (including Wales). This was followed by Scotland in the white St Andrew’s Cross on blue background. Later St Patrick’s Cross joined the picture and made complete what we now know as the Union Flag (or Jack – a nautical expression from the place where the flag was flown). 

The Welsh dragon image did not become part of the Union Flag because Wales had already been united to England when the first version of the Union Flag was designed.

George, the Saint, became a personality by the amalgamation of different stories. The kingdom we call United could only become great because it is like a community of nations who, voluntarily or not quite so, came together. In their character and essence these countries are quite diverse, but they have now successfully worked together for centuries to literally conquer the world and put a united mark on it.

When I grew up in Germany there appeared something which approximately translates ‘European Trading Community’. It began with a few countries making trade between them easier and more profitable for its members. And look what we have now! They have their own flag, share a currency and many more countries want to be a part of it. What does that say about the power and attraction of companionship and cooperation? It is also a lot about putting together the diversities of many different cultures and traditions. What have the traditions around the mediterranean sea in common with the way of life in the northern countries of Europe?
They are certainly all inhabited by people who want to live a good life and bring up children in peace. This ‘experiment’ has been fairly successful, since there never was such a long period without war in the whole history of central Europe – no armed conflict for 58 years. This was made possible because countries in Europe began to focus on common interests instead of concentrating on their differences too often. 
These movements and trends remind me very much of the way the Church formed and developed in its earliest times. From a small band of twelve people it developed into the immense body that it is today. Like the great country of Britain with her flags the Catholic Anglican Church has a mission. Great Britain used to contain large parts of the world and created Common-Wealth. So it is the task of the Catholic part within the Anglican Church to help us to return to the well-founded principles of 19th century renewal. You may ask: what this has to do with St George and the British flag?
Here is my proposal: We begin by talking more clearly and deeply about who God is, and how we can understand him/her in a world that has lost the language to do it appropriately for today’s eclectic culture. Then we spread the word that we are not left alone, but by Jesus’ death and resurrection we can now always be close to God. This is the point where we begin to communicate with God. This is traditionally called prayer. When we do it together, sing in between and try not to do it all at the same time liturgy is created. For this to work, we need leaders which are mostly called priests, but there are other ways to work for God. Since even Anglican Catholics do not exist on an island (except the piece of earth we live on) it is certainly a good idea to talk to and listen to the other parts that make up the Church of England. When we extend the last actions to the whole of our neighbourhoods, whichever kind they may be, and take action where the need is, we tell the very complex story of who Catholics are, who Christ is and who every disciple can become.

I am not sure where I am. It is dark, cold and damp. My body aches in places I don’t remember existed. The worst seem the hands and feet, and one spot just below where the ribcage is supposed to be. My back stings and burns as if someone has ripped the skin off.  I find breathing really difficult and need long pauses between each breath. My skin is icy cold, but seems to warm up very slowly now with each breath I take. I am still very weak and stiff. Very slowly I feel as if I am becoming alive for a second time. Tentatively I try to move my limbs, but I encounter resistance. So I continue to keep still, attempting to regain awareness of my whole body once more, and try to think where I was before I woke up.

I am not sure where I am. It is dark, cold and damp. My body aches in places I don’t remember existed. The worst seem the hands and feet, and one spot just below where the ribcage is supposed to be. My back stings and burns as if someone has ripped the skin off.  I find breathing really difficult and need long pauses between each breath. My skin is icy cold, but seems to warm up very slowly now with each breath I take. I am still very weak and stiff. Very slowly I feel as if I am becoming alive for a second time. Tentatively I try to move my limbs, but I encounter resistance. So I continue to keep still, attempting to regain awareness of my whole body once more, and try to think where I was before I woke up.

All I remember is a terribly dark place with a landscape similar to ours here, except everything was in different hues of grey and black. And there was a terrible noise! Billions of shadows in human form were crying out to me, wanting a blessing and rest – just like on the mountain in another life. At first I did not understand what they were saying, but gradually I realized that they were trapped in this place and condemned to roam around without ever being allowed to rest. Their overseer kept them in constant activity, and although there was nothing to do they still had to look busy and occupied. This was going on relentlessly, since time was not measured. My heart went out to these spirits, and I blessed them. They sighed and evaporated like mist. So gradually the noise from those terrified unhappy spirits became less and then stopped completely. There were no shadows left. As a result I was attacked by the overseers who were unspeakably angry because I had not only taken away their work, but also the food of the Lord of the Underworld. That is the last thing I remember, but it felt good nevertheless to give those poor souls freedom and rest.

Anyway, I am here again now. Very slowly my senses start working again too. It smells like there had been a dead body in here, but that seems to subside slowly. There is also a lingering perfume of embalming ointment around. Was that me? Am I being brought back to life again? Never mind, I hear heavy steps from somewhere nearby. They seem to go back and forth, like a guard of some kind, sounding almost military. But then something strange is happening. I hear feather light steps and whispering sounds, as if another person is in this place with me. I try to move again, but something is happening to my face now: I feel pressure and movement. My face seems to have been covered; however the wraps are being taken away by very gentle hands. Carefully I move my head from side to side – it works. Then there is more activity around the rest of my body; very awkward and painful in some places, but by and by I can move my arms and legs too. Amazingly there is also a sliver of light, so I can see a tiny bit.

There are two figures in white with me here. I am still feeling very weak, so I stay where I am; still warming up and gently regaining control of my body. Although the light in here is very dim it still hurts my eyes. So I shut them again, but suddenly there is an incredibly loud and screaming sound, and at the same time there is brightness everywhere. I don’t even need to open my eyes to realize that the sun is up and the door is open. The person in white puts some clothes next to me and then patiently helps me to get dressed again. It all takes quite a long time. The dying do everything very slowly, and I am feeling as if I am working my way backwards to return to life again. So I start moving slowly but by and by I become master of my limbs and senses once more.

When I cast my eyes around I realize that the place in which I am is a burial place. On a slab of stone I see heaps of bandages. I ask the gentle persons in white about them, and they tell me that I had been dead for three days and two nights. Now I gradually can also recollect some of the things that happened before the nightmare in the black place. It was terrible, but now I am alive and gradually I am filled with unspeakable joy and gratitude for the gift of life that is given to me again. Then I move slowly forward to the spot where the light is coming from, and I am face to face with the most glorious garden I have ever seen. Paradise looks like this.

I move towards the entrance and hear someone weeping. When I look out there is Mary, and she looks at me as if I was a stranger. She seems to be deeply grieving. Then she asks me where they have laid my body. Good job I know now that I was dead, so I am not too shocked. I call her name, and she recognizes me. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, because now she takes hold of me as if she were drowning. I have to remind her to let go of me so that I can move again. I tell her that I need to ascend into heaven. Then she questions me about what happened today.

Someone wrote a poem about this interview, so I shall share it with you:

Why do you look so different?
Because I had clothes divided
So someone brought another suit
And my old life subsided
I come from death’s dark abyss
None ever lived after this
So my face too
Changed its hue

What does the delight in this garden mean?
In a garden my suffering began
And to go back to Eden all humanity’s keen
So here I heal the division of God and man
And show how love death outran
So this garden too
Changed what is true

Why do you now hold me back so much?
I hurt from where I have been.
Wait – into the sky I need to ascend.
From there your pain I shall mend.
My hug will be power never seen.
Then of fire my body will be,
And many God shall see.

Recycling is the word! So I shall share with you the Passion through Mary’s eyes – and I am compelled to spare you nothing! So reading this is not for the faint hearted.

Dear Ruth, 

You are going to be extremely surprised to receive a letter from me, Mary, the mother of Jesus. I am writing several thousand years after your time.

I have had the most terrible and terrifying week of my life. It began with an excited and celebratory parade through the streets of Jerusalem. The main road was heaving so much with revellers that, short of letting Jesus get crushed to death, we had to find alternative transport. Fortunately Jesus knew someone in the city where we could borrow a donkey for him to sit on. 

Whether this was a good idea I do not know, because now we could move but they treated us like royalty: they hailed Jesus as David’s Son, carpeted the path before the donkey with palm leaves and we all felt rather awkward. 1,983 years later they will remember this day again as Palm Sunday. Usually they will not have a donkey in the play except the one on two legs who is carrying a cross that weighs probably half a ton. 

Anyway back to my own time where it was the first day of the Passover feast. The room we had was big and many people were invited. For practicality Jesus sat with the Twelve. When it was time for the blessings he handed the bread over with the words ‘This is my body’ and with the cup he said ‘This is my blood’. I was quite put off by these words. But, Ruth, it is getting even worse: after the meal he got up and started washing his disciples’ feet. This is a servant’s job! He even had the cheek to tell them that they had to do the same for each other and for others! And twenty one centuries later they actually do it. How amazing.

After the meal Jesus and the Twelve went to Gethsemane, and with three of them he went further into the wild garden. He told them to watch while he sat apart and prayed. Apparently Jesus was terrified – and that is not at all like him. Sadly, his bodyguard kept falling asleep. So he could not escape this time when a mob came up to grab him. The mob had to have a special show so Judas kissed Jesus. Not that kisses among men is unusual in our culture, Ruth, but apparently this was the sign of recognition for the henchmen of the Pharisees. What a nasty form of betrayal! Then the mob dragged Jesus into town again, straight to the High Priest’s house. Since it was by now quite late someone had to get the High Priest out of bed. We could hear his wife’s clamouring a long way off!

As many of you may know St Benedict was the one who wrote the widely used rules for the monastic life. No, it is not the Pope I am talking about, although there may well have been a certain affinity that led Cardinal Ratzinger to choose this name. I am talking about St Benedict of Nursia. He lived from the 5th to the 6th century in Italy. His sister, Scholastica lived in a convent not far from Saint Benedict.

One day Benedict visited her, and towards the end of the visit she asked him to stay the night with her. This was a very unusual occurrence, but Benedict refused because of the prayers he had vowed to say. Scholastica quietly prayed and a sudden heavy storm came which made it impossible for Benedict to leave. When he went on his way the next morning a dove flew past him and he realised that this was his sister’s soul, for she had died after he left. Then he was sad that for the sake of vows he did not want to spend time with his sister, and it was only the storm that kept him there.

I came across this story when I was looking for something else, and it taught me a lot about the handling of rules. We tend to think of Lent as a time when we make vows and choose rules to keep for the duration of this period. We try to give up sugar, wine, chocolate or coffee; or we try to eat sensibly and lose weight until Easter. Like St Benedict we make vows of some kind or another. Two different results frequently occur: one is that the attempt is abandoned after two weeks or so; the other may be that we become so inflexible that we cannot distinguish anymore between the occasions where we need to keep the rule and where to relax.

What does that say about our love for God? Do we love her less because we cannot keep our promise for a time? Does She care? It makes me think that this being we call God may have no concerns about whether we keep or break such a promise. In the Gospels there are a number of examples where Jesus breaks the Sabbath rules, and so teaches something extraordinary.

At the beginning of chapter twelve of St Matthew’s Gospel Jesus and the disciples are hungry while he walks through the cornfields on a Sabbath. So they pick ears of grain and eat them. Of course, as so often, the Pharisees do not like that and criticise them. Jesus concludes this exchange by stating that mercy is more important than sacrifice. This story is immediately followed by a similar one where they challenge him, in front of a man with a withered hand, whether it is acceptable to heal on a Sabbath. Jesus confronts their hardness of heart by stating that everyone would save a sheep stuck in a ditch on the Sabbath. He here asserts that a human person is worth more than a sheep and heals the man’s withered hand. For Jesus it is more important to care for women and men than to keep strictly to rules which should help and not hinder living together for God’s glory.

Thinking about what is acceptable in dealing with God I also remembered the story of King David when he danced before the Ark of the Covenant when it was brought back to Jerusalem. He got so carried away in his excitement and love for God that he became too indecent for Michal, the daughter of Saul, and she criticised him. David took his stand and Michal remained childless all her life (2 Sam. 6:14-23).

In ‘The Power of Myth’ Joseph Campbell puts this attitude in a different way: “You have to let go of the image of the [sacred]. Such an image of one’s god becomes the final obstruction, one’s ultimate barrier. You hold on to your own ideology, your own little manner of thinking, and when a larger experience of God approaches, an experience greater than you are prepared to receive, you take flight from it by clinging to the image in your mind. This is known as preserving your faith ...”

I would like to put forward the notion that I found with my ‘friend’ Professor Jürgen Moltmann. He suggests that the act of ignoring the generally accepted rules by Jesus point to a certain environment and occasion in eternity. In that state of reality there is no more difference between the holy and profane, but the whole of existence is included in and illuminated by the grace of God’s Love.

Recently I went on a hike. It began with dismal weather: rain pouring down and a canopy of heavy clouds overhead. I could have decided that I could not bear getting soaked all day. Instead I persevered; and when the rain stopped and the sun appeared I felt God’s presence with me. This walk changed my life – at least for that day, and hopefully for many more to come. This turnaround in attitude, and being filled with something greater than myself, reminded me very strongly of St Paul’s conversion. So I shall give him a voice and see what he tells us.

“I, Saul, shall get you for telling us stories about a human person being G?D. As Jews we are not even supposed to say His Name and you say that he was Human! How dare you. I’ll make an end of these stories, and then the Jewish world is back to normal.”

“And the narrator tells you what happened to me next: On the way to Damascus I am struck by light and hear the voice of Jesus. At least I think that’s what it was. After that I don’t remember much because I passed out and could not see a thing. First this incredibly bright light shone all around me. And then I felt like I was falling, not downwards but upwards, at great speed, and turning on my heels like a hurricane twister at the same time. With all that going on it was hard to distinguish the sound I heard. It certainly was not my imagination: I really heard something, and after a few booms I actually began to understand words. I was asked why I persecute Jesus. No one had ever asked me that before. In a flash I thought about it, but couldn’t come up with a satisfactory answer in the blink of an eye. But I was definitely changed.”

“When I came round again my companions had to take me by the hand to lead me into the city because I could not see. Until then that was the worst thing that ever happened in my sheltered pharisaic life. Being blind like an outcast – what a disgrace!”

“Imagine that: falling down in a plain old thunderstorm, hearing voices, and even going blind from one moment to the next. In the third Millennium I would probably be sent away to live with the mad people. Thankfully my friends didn’t abandon me; so they gently lead me into the city and I stay there, blind for three days. I am so shocked that I do not want to eat, drink or be merry. Thankfully G?D takes pity on me and sends a healer so that I can get my sight back. The only problem is that he is one of those on my black list of enemies of the faith. What a humiliating situation this is. The narrator says that I was praying, but really, if praying means sitting blind in the darkness, being totally helpless and accepting that fact, then that is what I have done. But what a strange prayer that must have been: no liturgy, no words – what is there to say in such a situation? – and I couldn’t even sway back and forth how I normally pray.”

“Then Ananias came and touched me, and my sight returned. I was really grateful, but I also had changed. I now really believed that Jesus had talked to me on the road, and this was an enormous event. I did not want to continue destroying those who were now my brothers and sisters. Instead I wanted to become like them, so I asked to be baptized. Fortunately I had no idea what my life would be like from then onwards.”

“Finally I took up my old job of preaching and teaching, but with a completely new zeal and a completely different focus. That is how I now divide my life: ‘before’ and ‘after’ Damascus. I even changed my name from Saul to Paul. One thing is sure: it never was boring again. I even had to be smuggled out of Damascus early on in my new ministry, otherwise my life would have ended already there and then. That was a real first for a law abiding, respectable Jew like me.”

“I used to think that it was my job as a Pharisee to get rid of anyone who disturbed the purity of our holy faith. But I now read even the parts of the bible that are not so well known – and that IS a revelation. So I find that G?D really loves us personally, and for that purpose He even sent His Son and allowed him to be killed because we human beings are so weak and obstinate. Instead of mistreating people for the sake of ritual purity and regulations I was ordered to learn from Jesus and suffer and love more. G?D is much, much bigger than I ever thought.”

“My friends tell me that my personality has not changed. I still get excited teaching people about the faith, and I love to debate, but now the foreign people who were outside the synagogue are my main addressees. You’d think they would be easy to convince but no, I really have to work hard at that; and there are also the priests breathing down my neck all the time. Even worse, punishments are harsh for giving Good News to the world, and the travelling I need to do is always dangerous. Shipwrecks, torture and flight are now part of my daily life. It ain’t pretty, but I cannot stop. It is too important that as many as possible hear and understand about the great love of G?D for all people and His created world.”

“Just over two thousand years later nobody will care if a crazy preacher stands in the forecourt of a cathedral shouting that Peter Jackson is a new prophet, and The Hobbit our saviour. But that’s a long way off. In the meantime I have to speed up my jog because the Pharisees are after me again.”

Do you remember the weeks before Christmas? The waiting – looking for hidden Christmas presents in the cupboard; living one day for the next when you can open another little window on your advent calendar, if you had one? While I was preparing for this article God let me in on a secret. He allowed me to listen in on the conversation Mary had with Him when she became pregnant with His Son. The best I can do is to share it with you now.

“I am Mary. I just went into my room to pray. Then there arrived this beautiful stranger. He looked at me like no one has ever looked at me before. Surely he was a holy man, because when he embraced me I just melted. And it was as if he was giving himself to me in a way I had never experienced. Of course all my relatives have given me big hugs before, but this was completely different. It was as if I had been in heaven and seen God. Still more exciting, it was as if God had been inside me! Even telling it makes me glow all over again.”

 “But then I had a rude awakening – it appeared as if I was going to be pregnant. The Stranger told me I would become pregnant but I forgot all about it, and now it really happened. I have to have a serious talk with God.”

“O God, what are you doing inside me? You are supposed to be busy running the world out there and not inside me. I am not joking God. You definitively have no business creating a baby in my womb. Do you know what happens if people in the village find out? They’ll stone me because they think I have been unfaithful to Joseph, and I really love him. My body is going to change and I can’t risk that anyone finds that out now. What – you yourself are growing inside me?! This is the craziest idea I have heard in ages – literally! What do you mean, the baby then is hundred percent godly and hundred percent human? How do you work that out anyway?”

“I don’t suppose anybody is going to believe that. Yes, yes, I know the prophecies as well as you do; but God why did you choose me, and not my mother, or the rabbi’s wife. They are a lot holier than I. You know how angry I get when I see how the poor are treated.”

“Exactly, Mary, this is why I have chosen you. I am sure you will teach my son the proper way to heal the sick, deal with the authorities and show my love to everyone.”

“Why do you insist on having your own body anyway, God? It is very hard to live in one, you know. If you are a man you have to do very hard and sometimes dangerous work to feed your family. If you are a woman there are forty weeks of pregnancy for every child. You made life very hard for us in this human body.”

“Mary, this is exactly the reason why I want to have one of my own. First of all I plan to give women more importance in the world. They will always remember that God in human form was born of a woman like everybody else. Maybe men might forget, but women will not. They will always share a special bond and have a view of the body that is different from men.”

“When I, God, have lived as a human in this world no one can say anymore that I don’t understand, because I do. I shall have had exactly the same experience as the people I have created, warts and all. That also means my body will go through the same changes, and have the same needs and desires as everyone else’s. I must eat and drink; I will love, have friends and celebrate like all people. I shall live with you and am one with you already before I am born. And in the end, when I have died and gone back to heaven, everyone who joins in the celebration of my life and death will be one with me.”

“You, Mary, will be the first to be one with me. So you are the example for every woman who wants to become real and respected as leader of my people. After that no man can tell a woman she is a second class person and only acceptable if she is married. Nor can anyone expect women to stay silent and hidden in the community. They can have exactly the same standing as men if I am calling them there.”

“Now I understand God that women have a lot to gain from my acceptance of this job, but what good will it do for men?”

“Good question, Mary. In the first place they will see their own body differently. It is not only made by Me, but I have the same body and the same drives and longings. I shall do hard work as a carpenter (I trust that Joseph will teach me the trade) so they will feel better about themselves. Their failures and weaknesses shall be less important because as part of my family of companions I shall be their guide. At first they may not understand but by and by they will become one with me just as you are one with me now, Mary.”

“This starts to sound very promising God. So I shall have to wait and look forward to the day when the baby will be born. And then I wait for him to grow up and do what he needs to do to change the world. And then I wait for him to come back to fill us all. Apart from waiting, what else do I do God?”

“Rejoice and be glad, and sing Alleluiah!”

In my series this month’s Saint is a very strange one. Almost nothing is known of Edmund. He is thought to be of East Anglian origin. His kingdom was devastated by the Vikings, who destroyed any contemporary evidence of his reign. As history dislikes nothing more than a lack of facts fictitious accounts of his life were written, and it was said that Edmund was the son of an obscure East Anglian ruler whom he succeeded as king when he was fourteen. In the large number of stories around his origins it was even alleged in some legends that Edmund was born at Nuremberg. Having been born and grown up in this town, it is even stranger that I have never consciously encountered his name or his story.

By tradition Edmund was tortured and killed after he refused the Danes' demand that he renounce Christ. The Danes beat him, shot him with arrows and beheaded him – in this order. Look at the picture at the top: doesn’t that remind you a bit of a hedgehog pinned to a tree? The story emerged that a wolf played security officer and shielded his severed head. When his casket was opened a long time after his death it was found that the arrow wounds were healed, the head reconnected to the shoulders, and the flesh quite fresh. Though this legend sounds rather weird and unbelievable, this story was the starting point for a popular cult of revering Edmund as a holy man. During the Middle Ages St. Edmund was regarded as the patron saint of England, and even in our time he still holds a number of patronages, one of which is ‘Patron Saint of Kings.’

Of course this is a rather abbreviated version of St. Edmund the King’s life story, but there are a few points that really jumped out at me when I looked at his significance.

There are similarities with Jesus here. Firstly, no one knows for certain who Edmund’s father was. The Holy Spirit is a bit far-fetched in this case, but his pedigree is obscure nevertheless. Then he was pinned to a tree, not by nails but by the arrows the Danes pierced him with. To make it even more exciting there is also the fact – and this is one – that St. Edmund is the Patron Saint of Kings. Of course he is not The King of Kings, but as their patron he still has a kind of overseer position. The story is also told that St. Edmund was a very just and kind king, and so he may mirror in a small way what the Kingdom of God could be like.

Other similarities also spring to mind. As he is assumed to be the youngest son of his father this reminds me of Edward the Confessor, who apparently was also a boy king. But there are even more striking parallels in the Old Testament. When Nathan goes to find the one God has chosen to become king over Israel it is not the oldest son, which would be in keeping with tradition, but the youngest who is anointed. He even had to be called in from sheep keeping business because no one expected him to be in the running. The story of Jacob and Esau in Genesis is also well known: how God permitted Esau to be tricked out of the rights and privileges of an older son.

You may ask why I have told you all this and what this has to do with our life today. For one there are the similarities between leading figures in the Bible, which makes me wonder if the stories around and about St. Edmund are not a reminder that in God’s kingdom all the known values of the world are turned on their head. As I am not British I am not quite familiar with the exact number of kings in the lineage of Queen Elizabeth II, but as I recall there are a lot, and in the world this is important. It speaks of status and privilege. Then there is age. Traditionally it is still the oldest son who inherits real estate or the larger sum of a family’s possessions, but in the Kingdom of Heaven our human rules are useless because God usually turns them upside down.

Since we approach the short season we call Kingdom tide it may be worth reflecting on what this means in the twenty first century where usually any monarchs remaining do not hold absolute power anymore. For me it also raises issues about power structures in the Church and in the corporate world, not to mention education and media. I leave it to you to take that idea further. If a king is someone who rules a country by birthright, as the Oxford Dictionary states, then who rules us? Who, or what, dominates what is going on in our lives? Do we allow work to take over; do we let our physical hunger rule what we do? What is our motivation for our daily occupations – or the lack of them? Do we dress or live according to the standards the media show us or do we develop our own?

The Kingdom of Heaven, according to Marcus J. Borg, is not some place or time in the distant future, but he thinks that Jesus wanted us to see it as something to be achieved and enjoyed right here in the present*. What does that mean? How is it possible?

Faith, Love and Charity are often seen as the marks of Christian living. Christ knew that his interpretation of the Law was quite radical, but he taught it anyway. He also knew that if anyone called him a ruler, in the religious or political sense, his life was in great danger. This did not stop him from caring for the people at the margins of society, nor was he deterred from challenging the religious leaders to put their explanation of the law into a more humane context.

The courage of Jesus is the most striking sign of leadership, and so we have a king crowned with the thorns of suffering to remind us that being authentic and living true to personal convictions never come easy. We yearn for a future when the world becomes a more just place, where people are honest, kind and loving and Christ reigns. How about finding one small action and begin now?

*Marcus J. Borg, Meeting Jesus in Mark, SPCK, 2011.

I’m just a bag lady from Paddington Green
I lives ‘neath the arches, unheard and unseen.
I once craved a palace and got me a box,
I longed for the good life but just took the knocks.

I’m a lonely no-hoper, a blot on the land
A cause without meaning what don’t understand
Why you can’t beg a penny, while luggin’ yer bags
Cos they say you’ll just blow it on booze and on fags! 

Yes, I’m just a Bag Lady from Paddington Green
I live’s ‘neath the arches unheard and unseen.

Excerpt from ‘The SMart Review’, by Maureen Grayson

St Francis was the son of a rich cloth merchant, and he lived a privileged life until he encountered a poor knight. He was so moved with compassion that he exchanged clothes with the knight. Some- time later, instead of riding into battle, Francis fell ill. A voice told him to return and “serve the Master rather than the man”. So he obeyed, and back home he sought solitude walking in the hills. When he met a leper he was again so overcome with compassion that he gave him all the money he carried with him. This was the beginning of a way into a different kind of life. Francis began to visit hospitals, and the shelter for lepers which was a place avoided by everyone who could. On a pilgrimage to Rome he exchanged clothes with one of the beggars there, and then he stood and begged all day, thus experiencing the disgrace of being poor. When he had begun to live a life in poverty his father disinherited him and he then was truly a beggar for the cause of God. He even stripped himself publicly naked to return to his father the clothes he wore because, as Francis said, “my clothes also belong to him”.

Who, I ask you, would have the courage to do these things in the western world today? Giving away all the money I carry with me, swapping the clothes I wear, and literally stripping naked is not my idea of the Glorious Christian Life. Quite apart from the fact that this might upset the people in the immediate environment this may also have wider implications. Imagine a person is employed by someone who is immorally making money and finds out. He quits his job since he does not wish to be part of it, but he will still have to suffer the consequences. When that man applies for benefits the result may be a reduction of money on the grounds that it was the man’s own fault that he became unemployed. This event could very easily lead into an ever tightening spiral of poverty and exclusion and we may then find him as a rough sleeper. 

Recently I met one of the residents of the hostel opposite St Matthew’s, and I got to talking to him and listening to his story. From his story it emerged how a person can be decent one moment, and homeless and destitute the next. Without a bit of money and a passport a man is literally a non-person in the eyes of the authorities and the world. Some years ago I was house-sitting with my husband at a friend’s and was burgled. Among other things the thief stole were our passports. Of course I was still respectable in the usual sense, but the feeling of being bereft, poor and non-existent was not very nice and nowadays I would avoid anything like it at all costs.

How different the attitude of Francis:

“If I am truly poor, then I am dependent on others for everything, and I feel useless and worthless, and I realize deep within that everything is a gift from the Father. Then in this attitude of dependence, I become useful again, for then I am empty of selfishness...

I write these words in pain, Lady Poverty, for I have wept bitter tears because I was poor and had to beg from others, and I felt like a burden to people and God ... And I have grown weary of Christ’s words not to worry about tomorrow”. Murray Bodo (From the Northumbria Community’s Meditation for the day of the month)

What does this mean for us today in a world of affluence and free market? How can a person be rich and poor at the same time? The United Nations have a set of descriptions for poverty. Extreme poverty is when people live on less than $ 1 per day. Absolute poverty is a little less harsh as it describes a state where a number of material things we consider necessary for a civilized life are missing but the basics are still there. Another kind of poverty takes into account other issues that determine whether a person is poor or not, such as for example a lack of relationships or the inability to travel. Under the latter description may even count a person who is financially rich.

The rich young man (Luke 18:22) also comes to my mind as having a different kind of poverty. Clearly he had all we can think of that makes for a good life: a good position in society, no material want and a faith he followed literally to the letter. At that time it was believed that material wealth and a good life indicated that a person was blessed by God. So, like young Francis, he had it all. But Jesus points out that to love God means to go beyond the call of duty and be generous to a fault. I do not think Jesus means  we all should make ourselves deliberately destitute. But what this story illustrates is that God’s desire for us is that we should be dependent on Him alone, and not succumb to the assumption that having money will protect us or keep us in good standing. 

Apart from financial and food poverty, what other kinds of deprivation can we think of? As a church we are called to look after the ‘widows and orphans’ in this world. This may not literally mean seeking out these particular groups of people, but what it means is to give, in Christ’s words, food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty; to visit the sick and the prisoners (Matthew 25:35-36). That would also include people who live alone and have no one to visit them, the housebound, the mentally ill and many others. Where are these people? They may come to St. Matthew’s or they may live opposite or next to you. They may also live at the other side of the world.

What they have in common is that they all lack something the rest of us may take for granted, such as food, clothing, a home or companionship – or all of these. There is no rule to it except that we are called to share whatever riches we have with others who are less fortunate. What are the riches we have in the place where we are? These may be very different for everyone but one valuable opportunity often overlooked is time. If money is scarce, and other opportunities do not come to mind, taking time to listen to other people is always welcome – and needed.

Often just having a chat with a stranger on the bus or in the park may be exactly what it means to share the love of Christ in the world. We have a tendency to want to do big things for Christ but I have reluctantly found that the small ones are just as important and joy giving. 

What do you do to fill your house with people? Usually one gives out invitations – by post, email or in person. I never thought about this before, but only complained that no one came to visit me. Then someone asked me: ‘have you actually invited someone to your home?’This is a very good question in many ways. After I have decided who I would like to come, and given the invitation, I begin behaving like Martha in the gospel. I worry about food, table decorations, tidiness in the living room and other fairly irrelevant details.

Putting myself in Matthew’s shoes, I wonder what his invitation was like. I don’t think there were all these things to think about in his time. For a proper meal in higher circles you reclined; that meant lying sideways on a narrow couch and taking your food from a low table in the middle. Sounds like utter luxury, doesn’t it? This is what Jesus came to when he dined with Matthew, apparently very soon after having called him as a disciple. What strikes me about the meal Jesus shared with Matthew and his friends is how unconcerned Matthew apparently was about the fact that Jesus did not at all belong to his kind of environment.

Imagine our garden or hall here filled with couches instead of chairs, and the food is served on low tables alongside. Using cutlery is of course out of the question, so we all eat with our fingers! By now I remember many lunches and some dinners at St Matthew’s, even formal ones, but none of them involved reclining at the table, and the fingers normally stayed clean. Nonetheless I always felt welcome and as if I was receiving a treat. Sometimes it felt awkward because I am (I suppose) the only vegetarian at St Matthews but never as if I did not belong. This is a very important aspect of hospitality because it means that here is also a place for outsiders and those at the margins of ‘respectable’ society. So perhaps it can be assumed that if Jesus came back next Sunday and there was a meal other than the Eucharist he would also be warmly welcomed, without anyone raising an eyebrow at his outdated dress or his hairstyle. But how would we recognise Him if he came in contemporary attire and without the tell-tale nail marks?

St Matthew, the tax collector called by Jesus made quite a journey: first he was a greedy man, filling his pockets with poor people’s money. Then he was called by a wandering preacher no one really knew at the time, but he responded immediately. He actually left behind the money he made that day to be with Jesus.  And it gets even better: he invites Jesus for dinner with his friends! Matthew the ‘Taker’ becomes Matthew the ‘Giver’.

Here then we see the two sides of hospitality: being a host and a guest. How do you behave as a host? What are the characteristics of a good guest? I don’t know about you, but I sometimes feel uncomfortable or even annoyed when people pay me back for gifts I have given them. I have never been rich enough to give big gifts, so often these little presents were more tokens of my love or appreciation than anything of big material value. Sometimes I think being a host is a lot easier than being a guest, apart from the work to make guests welcome. How does it feel to receive something without being able to reciprocate? We are so used to being proactive and in the habit of doing things for others that gracefully accepting gifts – or hospitality – becomes quite difficult. It is probably a bit like allowing someone to wash your feet: getting into a mild state of embarrassment.

Another tricky task for some of us is to be good to ourselves. How easy it is to joyfully cook for guests, or for a partner, but how hard to treat oneself like a guest. Christians, and especially Christian women, have been eternally conditioned to put others first. Do not mistake me: I am not advocating a path of constant inconsiderate selfishness. However, we also need time to pamper ourselves, time to be a friend to ourselves and to spend time with God. If we put time and effort into self-care we are better able to give love and care, and be a host in many ways to others. This also affirms that we are just as important to God, and ourselves, as everyone else.

God – how do we invite him on a daily basis? Do we? For the clergy it seems to be easy because they mostly celebrate or concelebrate the Eucharist, but what about us ordinary lay people. We go to work early in the morning – often too early to consider participation in Morning Prayer. Some travel and go abroad frequently, some have their workplace where no church is nearby. What can be done? What would it be like if we very simply invited God to be our companion for the day?

What happens when the roles of host and guest are exchanged? Matthew turned from sinner to follower, and became a host and saint. I also think of the journey that Jesus made. He began his journey as a guest at the wedding of Cana; he attended meals at the house of Mary and Martha, ate with Peter and his family, and Matthew and Zachaeus also were his hosts. But at the Last Supper he was the one who hosted the Passover Meal and invited whoever he wanted, and apparently there were more guests than just The Twelve. How pleased Jesus must have been that he could do that for his friends and family.

Now, just as then, he invites us every time we come to the Eucharist to be a guest at God’s table. Can we all be gracious guests, accept the invitation, and see where it will lead us?

When Jesus called the sons of Zebedee there was no precedent for them, no one to ask how it was to follow Jesus. Imagine yourself being with them.
As soon as Jesus called James by name he got up and came over.
His nets were left in a heap to be looked after by someone else.
What an odd thing to say: ‘I will make you fishers of men.’ John the Baptist did not say things like that.
But still St James did not hesitate, nor did he ask any questions.  
No thought such as: ‘what am I going to do?’ 
No question like: ‘where are we going?’ 
He did not refuse, saying I cannot do this. 
Of course St James had no idea what he let himself in for. 
It may be a bit like dying – a true journey into the unknown.

By his witness for Christ Crucified Herod Agrippa came to believe, and they became martyrs together. But the journey still did not end here. His relics travelled the seas and came to rest in Spain. And even now St James of Compostela is the centre of pilgrim journeys from all over Europe. Many of those pilgrims don’t know what they let themselves in for either.

St James just got up and went to Jesus. He did not even turn around and look back, or say good bye to his father. I don’t know about you, but I often think I think too much and hesitate where I would be better off not doing it.

How much time do we take over decisions we make?

How many pros and cons do we have to juggle until we manage a conclusion?