Everyone likes a good carnival, and Jesus entry into Jerusalem was part of a very important one. The crowds were all moving towards the celebrations of the Passover, the retelling and remembering of the stories how the Hebrew people were liberated from the slavery in Egypt.

Masses of people are moving along towards the temple – and Jesus, sitting on a donkey, is right in the middle of them. He is riding on the foal of a donkey, and according to the prophet Zechariah this is how the redeemer king would come. The cutting and spreading of branches made a connection between the entry of Jesus and that of Simon Maccabaeus, who led a successful revolt to free Jerusalem and make the temple a holy place again. That gives Palm Sunday its name. It also points to freedom and redemption after the hard and painful time of Passiontide is finished.

When the people welcome Jesus they use the word “Hosanna”. This was not only a blessing, but also a cry for help. You may wonder how all this can be connected with our life today. To explain and illustrate this question I would like to come back to the initial idea of a carnival.

In most areas in Germany, where I come from, during the last days before Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday there are carnival processions and celebrations daily. Everyone and everything is taken out of the normal order of things and put to the purpose of the party. Huge floats with radical themes and headlines ridicule and criticise things that are oppressive and painful in life and in politics. Of course music, fun, food and drink, like at Notting Hill, play their part too. The combination of all these very different elements turns Carnival in Germany into a time of liberation. People can vent their frustrations, and dance, sing and shout away their tensions. After that they can again deal appropriately with feelings and situations which may otherwise devastate them.

As far as I can remember many of the slogans of the floats were a variation of the cry in Jesus’ time: Get us out of this! Help us! We want to be free!

Imagine yourself as part of the crowd at Jesus’ time: where are you in this carnival story? Are you the one at the sidelines? Do you climb a tree, like Nicodemus, to see Jesus? Are you walking next to or behind the donkey?

The longing to be free from the pain and difficulties of living is probably as old as humanity itself. Unfortunately learning to deal with these things is something that needs to be learned.  Try and remember how you have learned what is necessary in life. There was usually someone to show you how to do it.

We love the clowns in the circus because they are just like us: they make mistakes; they are clumsy, and have angry, happy, and sad feelings – and they are permitted to act it all out. In a way watching clowns is like looking into a mirror and watching ourselves. This is exactly what Jesus is doing. He lives his life with honesty, courage and love, even until the time when he knows his life may be taken from him. He shows us how to accept God’s love, but also how to deal with joy, pain, sadness, and being hated and rejected – and he shows us how to die with strength and dignity.

On the day we now call Palm Sunday the Passion begins, and Jesus embarks on his final journey from life into death. There were many moments before when he has talked about this destiny to his disciples. Jesus said again and again that it was necessary for him to die. He even says that only if he dies new life can grow and the Holy Spirit can come. Of course the disciples did not understand this. Only long after the event can we understand that this is God’s way of showing us how to live fully and with integrity from start to finish.

So if God’s invitation is to follow Jesus, what does that mean for us in the twenty first century? Do we need to undergo torture equivalent to the one Jesus had to endure? The not-so-good news is that we still need to keep alert against our personal sins, as well as cultivate awareness of corporately missing the mark as a society. These things do not disappear just because we are baptised, but we have to take action to change the interior and exterior world. The good news is that, as St Paul has found long ago, Jesus has already done the lion’s share of the work. In baptism we have already died with Christ and this fact makes us free to live complete and authentic lives close to God.

Knowing that the walk is not easy, will you come along anyway?

“I want to suggest some ways in which we might reconnect thinking about human rights and religious conviction – more specifically, Christian convictions about human dignity and human relatedness, how we belong together.  Similar points may emerge from other kinds of religious belief.  I believe this reconnection can be done by trying to understand rights against a background not of individual claims but of the question of what is involved in mutual recognition between human beings.  I believe that rights are a crucial way of working out what it is for people to belong together in a society.  The language gets difficult only when it is divorced from that awareness of belonging and reciprocity.  This is not just to make the obvious (and slightly tired) point about rights and responsibilities.  It is to see the world of ‘rights’ as anchored in habits of empathy and identification with the other. 

Religion, he says, contributes a doctrinal core to the underlying principles of universality and freedom. Whilst religion could not claim a monopoly on a universal understanding of human nature, it could articulate precisely why human rights were universal; that the nature of humanity created in God’s image requires both equality and an abstracted view of rights, independent of political and social systems:

 “that this language takes for granted that there are some things that remain true about the nature or character of human beings whatever particular circumstances prevail and whatever any specific political settlement may claim.  While this is not – as a matter of fact – a set of convictions held uniquely by religious people, religious people will argue that they alone have a secure ‘doctrinal’ basis for believing it, because they hold that every human subject is related to God independently of their relation to other subjects or to earthly political and social systems.  ….take away this moral underpinning, and language about human rights can become either a purely aspirational matter or something that is simply prescribed by authority.  If it is the former, it is hard to see why legal systems should be expected to enshrine such recognitions.  If it is the latter, its force depends on the will of some actual legal authority to enforce it; the legitimacy of such an authority would have to be established; and there would be no inbuilt guarantee that the unconditionality of the rights in question would always be honoured. 

While recognizing current tensions, Dr Williams points to examples where the religious language of human dignity has deepened commitment to defend human rights. This, he says, can be illustrated from recent history:

“It is not an academic point: in the last century, the Church in South Africa or the Democratic Republic of Germany – to take just two examples – was perhaps the most significant context in which universal, non-negotiable human dignity could be affirmed and defended. … For rights language to lose the link with religious language and institutions would be for it to lose something historically crucial.

Dr Williams goes on to outline how law should not be seen as conferring abstract legal entitlements, divorced from any idea about human interrelatedness:

“Law does not offer a comprehensive definition of the answers to such claims but establishes a process for scrutinising them and a way of ending debates by way of public decisions announced by recognized authorities.  In this sense, law is bound to be ‘reactive’: what people think about themselves changes, what they think is possible changes, and the law has to assess whether any particular fresh claim that protection is inadequate is a reasonable one.  And this is triggered by the kind of public argument that – if we look at recent and not so recent history - leads to major shifts in what we think is necessary to overcome the exclusion of certain people from the society to which they think they belong. 

He illustrates this with examples of the major changes that have occurred in recent times with the development of legal protection for various minority groups - whether religious, ethnic or sexual - from discrimination or persecution:

“The advance of legislation around the protection of ethnic minorities, not only from very specific kinds of practical discrimination but also from demeaning public speech, reflects such a reactive move: ‘civic discourse and practice’, the developing moral and imaginative awareness of a society, lead us to recognize that certain ways of speaking and behaving habitually restrict the possibilities of certain groups, implicitly as well as explicitly.  Where it has been commonplace to use stereotypic words and images of others, we come to see that by using such words and pictures we are in effect treating some person or group as people we need not fully recognize as fellow-humans and fellow-citizens, people who do not belong in the same way that we do.  And once that is acknowledged, the law properly steps in to do what it is there to do – secure recognition. 

Ultimately, he says, human rights indicate a mutual recognition within communities which share a civic context:

“The fundamental point is not so much that every person has a specific set of positive claims to be enforced, but that persons and minority groups of persons need to be recognized as belonging to the same moral and civic world as the majority, whatever differences or disagreements there may be.  And I want to argue that a proper consideration of human rights has a better chance of sustaining its case if it begins from the recognition of a common dignity or worthiness of respect among members of a community than if it assumes some comprehensive catalogue of claims that might be enforceable. 

In his conclusion Dr Williams points to a crucial role that religion plays in the human rights debate - offering a vocabulary which finds an expression for a proper sense of outrage at the violation of human rights; that their denial and or breach touches on the blasphemous:

“It is this that religious doctrine offers to the institutions and dialects of ‘human rights’, and it is a vital contribution.  It is essential that, in an age that is often simultaneously sentimental, utilitarian and impatient, we do not allow the language of rights to wander too far from its roots in an acknowledgement of the sacred.

Here you are, it is Ash Wednesday and you have just confessed your sins – corporately, of course. You go away with a black or grey smudge of a cross on your forehead, and if you are even remotely like me you will feel a bit strange in the crowd with this mark. Some may even wipe it off as soon as they have come out of church. This signing in the shape of the Cross is accompanied by the words: “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. Turn away from your sin and be faithful to Christ.”

Can you think of reasons why it is important to be reminded now and again that we shall not live forever?

We certainly know on a logical level that we shall all pass away some day. Many have tried to find out where we go, but I like the explanation given by John O’Donohue in Anam Cara best. He says that at birth you appear out of nowhere, and at death you disappear to nowhere. That means we then are in the company of God.

The commission that goes with the ashing gives a clue to the object of the Lent Journey I have in mind:  that we may become more authentic followers of Christ, grow and stretch to increase our capacity of being and acting human. It is a little bit like starting long distance hiking. In the beginning you may be sore but, as you work through that, you will gain energy, strength and stamina. All that is required is that one single step to set you on the road.

Usually after Ash Wednesday we continue our ordinary lives, and sometimes giving up something pleasurable or addictive for forty days may become 'The Fast'. Some Christians have suggested that, instead of giving something up during Lent, it would be a good idea to take up something special like being particularly generous in giving, being more polite than usual, or helping elderly ladies to cross the road. Why would you stop there?

Looking at the Bible you may find that the Lent journey is much more than that. It begins a very long time ago with the wanderings of the Israelites in the wilderness for forty years. Here they became a nation and learned to follow and trust the God who loved them unconditionally, in spite of all their transgressions and demands. Thousands of years later Jesus appears on the scene, and the first event in his ministry was a call by the Spirit of God to spend forty days of fasting in the wilderness (Matth. 4:1). St Matthew even says that the purpose wasto be tempted by the devil. What does this say about the Lent experience in the twenty first century? Obviously we cannot all travel to some remote place, sit in the desert, and eat and do nothing.

What this desert retreat has quite obviously done for Jesus was to give him a closer intimacy with God and greater clarity about how to exercise his ministry. It was not to be a ministry of power display, selfishness and material gain. Instead he was called to become a truly humble human being and so present to us the Face of God. Like the wandering Israelites he learned to trust God more, and follow God’s leading in a way which was completely different from the ideas and values of the world. Faith is another word for trust, and the dictionary suggests that faith involves confidence in and loyalty to someone or something. This can be applied to many situations in everyday life: from political principles to a beloved spouse, to the company you work for or the brand of chocolate you eat. Who, or what, is the most important object of your loyalty and love?

Most people work Monday to Friday, nine am till five or seven pm, and don’t have much leisure time. On the other hand, if you love someone human you want to spend time with that person. God is just like this. His Spirit is calling you to spend time with him. What would happen if you listened and followed during this Lent? Of course I am not in the position to make any promises, but perhaps you are in for a surprise. There are probably as many ways of achieving this closeness with God as there are people, however the most important component of any listening is to become quiet. How can anyone hear God while talking at him constantly and making demands which often sound like a child’s wish-list for Santa? Like Jesus we need a time of re-ordering priorities and emptying the busy mind to make space for the Holy Spirit of God.

Wilderness has of course many connotations. You may think of endless sand, desolate stony landscapes, and perhaps stormy seas. These are exterior images of harsh environments, but, there are also interior deserts and stumbling stones to overcome such as loneliness, emotional habits and damaging lifestyle choices, to name just a few. Often we do not see them until we stop and look. There are many ways to avoid confronting these things, such as being too busy, consuming excessive entertainment, talking too much, always complaining, buying unnecessary things or eating too much.

Again Lent is an opportunity to find out where we have left God’s way and indulged in our own or the world’s way of thinking or acting. It can really become an adventure trek to find out things about your own person, and then search for other trails and ways of more peace and beauty. When someone goes walking or hiking in unfamiliar territory they need the proper equipment and provisions. The same is true for the Lent journey: Bible, times of stillness, and an attitude of humility may be the most important of provisions you can ever have. Who knows – maybe you like it so much that Easter is just the fork and not the end of the road.

An international team of scientists, including researchers from Johns Hopkins University and the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, describe how burning frankincense (resin from the Boswellia plant) activates poorly understood ion channels in the brain to alleviate anxiety or depression. This suggests that an entirely new class of depression and anxiety drugs might be right under our noses.

"In spite of information stemming from ancient texts, constituents of Bosweilla had not been investigated for psychoactivity," said Raphael Mechoulam, one of the research study's co-authors. "We found that incensole acetate, a Boswellia resin constituent, when tested in mice lowers anxiety and causes antidepressive-like behavior. Apparently, most present day worshipers assume that incense burning has only a symbolic meaning."
To determine incense's psychoactive effects, the researchers administered incensole acetate to mice. They found that the compound significantly affected areas in brain areas known to be involved in emotions as well as in nerve circuits that are affected by current anxiety and depression drugs. Specifically, incensole acetate activated a protein called TRPV3, which is present in mammalian brains and also known to play a role in the perception of warmth of the skin. When mice bred without this protein were exposed to incensole acetate, the compound had no effect on their brains.


"Perhaps Marx wasn't too wrong when he called religion the opium of the people: morphine comes from poppies, cannabinoids from marijuana, and LSD from mushrooms; each of these has been used in one or another religious ceremony." said Gerald Weissmann, M.D., Editor-in-Chief of The FASEB Journal. "Studies of how those psychoactive drugs work have helped us understand modern neurobiology. The discovery of how incensole acetate, purified from frankincense, works on specific targets in the brain should also help us understand diseases of the nervous system. This study also provides a biological explanation for millennia-old spiritual practices that have persisted across time, distance, culture, language, and religion--burning incense really does make you feel warm and tingly all over!"
According to the National Institutes of Health, major depressive disorder is the leading cause of disability in the United States for people ages 15--44, affecting approximately 14.8 million American adults. A less severe form of depression, dysthymic disorder, affects approximately 3.3 million American adults. Anxiety disorders affect 40 million American adults, and frequently co-occur with depressive disorders.

The feast of Epiphany unfortunately is often somewhat neglected and overshadowed by the bigger celebration of Christmas. Like most other people I love Christmas, but I think Epiphany also has a lot of power when it comes to actually living the Christian life.

What do I mean by that? First we want to know, who is this Jesus? St John (1:29-34) reminds us that He heals by taking the sin of the world upon Himself, and giving the Holy Spirit too. What is even more amazing, St John in this passage boldly proclaims himself witness to Jesus as the Son of God. What form does this Son of God take? At Christmas we have celebrated God becoming human and receiving a body. But now three foreigners come, take off the insignia of their position, and present that infant with some peculiar gifts. How do you react to the fact that the Magi are foreigners, coming from outside to recognize and proclaim who Christ is?

Usually the gifts the Magi presented to the Christ-child are taken at their material face value. Could they also be seen in a different light? Do they give some other clues to the identity of Jesus – and ultimately that of any Christian as heir of Christ? Gold is usually associated with kingship, wealth and beauty. What if it could also stand for purity, spiritual depth and being blessed in a special way? If all Christians have received the same gifts as Christ, how can we now influence and change the world, just as Christ did then?

Frankincense is now becoming ever more precious because the trees struggle to establish themselves to grow strong, and only in maturity their sap can be harvested. This may well point to the obstacles humans negotiate in their journey to become wholesome people, but it also reminds us that maturity is necessary to be useful, or perfect, in God’s kingdom. During his ministry Jesus healed many people who were given up as hopeless cases, or even revived those that were pronounced dead. The incense plant has many healing properties so researchers check if Frankincense is a still unknown cure for some cancers, in addition to the liturgical use we love so much at St Matthews.

Myrrh comes from trees with very sharp thorns, so the first thought that comes to mind is the crown of thorns during the passion. But the plant also has a number of medicinal properties, among which bacteria fighting and pain easing powers seem to be prominent. Myrrh is also one of the components used for the preservation of dead bodies. Traditionally myrrh was one of the magi’s presents to point to Christ’s death, but when I look at the other possible uses  I think of Christ’s life and ministry too, rather than his passion alone. How relevant is that for Epiphany? Jesus invested a lot of his personality into healing people, easing their pain and distress. Even the Sermon on the Mount seems to have as its goal a restoration of values lost in religious practice at the time. In the 21st century those teachings have lost nothing of their importance in pointing to love as the main ingredient of Christianity.

I have called this essay ‘The day that God appeared’ because ‘appearance of God’ is the literal meaning of the word ‘epiphany’. If something becomes known and visible it usually has a physical substance. In that case it was a baby. That means God had received a body like ours, and could be seen and touched, hugged, kissed, and – yes – killed too. Imagine what it would be like to treat our own and the body of other people as if it were the extension of God. May be we would hug each other more, and treat our own body better.

 Another take on this theme is to examine the way we treat the Body of Christ, and here I mean the Church in a wider sense too. How do you think and talk about Anglicans of other traditions than your own? Do you think of Pentecostals or Quakers as aliens or relatives? Then there is also our own congregation here at St Matthews. Who do you really know and have more than a fleeting contact? Even if you talk to someone every Sunday, how well can you really know that person? The amazing thing is that God knows us all, inside and outside. He knows all our real strengths and weaknesses, even if our fellow humans cannot see them, and he loves us unconditionally and without reservation. How wonder-full and how awe inspiring.

About fourteen years ago I read a book about God’s body, and it continues to make its mark on the way I see the world and present it to others. The most important point in it is that the author presents the whole universe as the ‘Body of God’. Imagine all those solar systems and galaxies – more than we know about – as making up the physical reality of God. I always found that really humbling, and at the same time uplifting, to realize that even with this unimaginable body size God really cares about all his creatures and creations. How then can we who are made in his image and likeness increase our level of care for each other and God’s Body too?

Although this would make a talk all of its own, I would like to take a last look at those three Magi as they approach the baby in his crib. Will they come in pomp and power? Will they take off their crowns and signs of wisdom and position? This Christmas Her Majesty the Queen has deeply moved me with her speech, talking like one Christian among many – not as the Head of State, nor as the Head of the Church. This is a perfect example how Christians could approach the world and so become the Image of God or, if you like, the Epiphany of Christ for everyone.

The word Advent originates in Latin adventus which means coming. As far as language goes, the form of the word coming points to a process, something that is not complete yet. What then are we waiting for? Are we waiting?

In Oxford Street the illuminations light the way for the Big Rush which is the pilgrimage of the Christmas shoppers. They moan ‘I need a present for Auntie Joan - and another one for my office colleague – and cards for the clients!’ One could certainly become negative over the hubbub that marks a time that was meant to be set aside as a period of anticipation and spiritual renewal. What strikes me – and moves me, too – is the fact that Advent and Christmas are also observed by those who otherwise never go to Church or express belief in the Christian faith. Sometimes I think this is the walk God grants those who do not yet believe, in the hope that one day they will. How does their kind of journey compare with the believers’ walk through the four weeks of Advent?

The word adventus is the same word as parousia which is used for the Second Coming of Christ. Since no one knows when this will happen we set aside the four weeks of Advent to prepare ourselves for this Second Coming, watching and waiting, and the Sunday readings guide us through this preparation: First we are sorry for our disobedience, then God speaks to pardon and reassure us, then we are sent out and the culmination of that journey is that we celebrate the birth of Jesus.

What has this to do with the Second Coming, you might ask. Last month I have looked at what the Kingdom of God may be like: just, loving, without poverty and violence, to name just a few conditions. During Advent the Church and its members try to anticipate this state of heavenly bliss by their actions and way of life to prepare for the birth of God in human form. I often wonder what it would be like if everyone did that and kept it up all the time?

We could live in harmony, without fear and loved in a world torn by social discords and military conflicts. Tension in many families unfortunately rises as Christmas approaches and even during the days of it. People who normally never spend time with each other stick together for several days, so all those irritating little habits become even more so. Imagine love smoothing them – Anything could happen!

Below are four reflections for you to ponder and pray with, if you so wish.

                                                                                                                                           
Thee, God, I come from, to Thee go,
... What I know of Thee I bless,
... Once I turned from thee and hid,
Bound on what thou hadst forbid;
Sow the wind I would; I sinned:
I repent of what I did.
                 G. M. Hopkins 

Though a man
Be soiled
With the sins of a lifetime,
Let him but love me,
Rightly resolved,
In utter devotion:
I see no sinner;
That man is holy.
                 Bhagavad Gita

Lord, today brings
  Paths to discover
  Possibilities to choose
  People to encounter
  Peace to posses
  Promises to fulfil
  Perplexities to ponder
  Power to strengthen
  Pointers to guide
  Pardon to accept
  Praises to sing
And a Presence to proclaim
                 David Adam

No, I don’t want to give birth to God.
     Yes, I am a good girl, so I nod.
No, I don’t want to be out in the cold.
     Yes, I’ll follow him till I am old.
No, I don’t want to lodge in the hay.
     Yes, I am so tired now, it is okay.
No, I don’t want to be alone in this.
     Yes, I look forward to the bliss.
No, I don’t want a donkey assistant.
     Yes, I give up being so resistant.
     Yes, your point I can see.
     Yes, I’m glad God looks like me.
     Yes, thanks for making me see
The Child, but not yet the Tree.
                 Tamara Katzenbach
              
Here you are now, safely arrived at Christmas and the destination of the journey.  How was your pilgrimage? Happy, peaceful and blessed Christmastide.

November is the time when we remember those who have died. Beginning with All Saints Day the Church recalls all the Holy Men and Women who have followed Christ and died a long time ago. On All Souls Day those near to us, who have gone to heaven before us, are celebrated; memories may crop up, perhaps pain we thought we had left behind catches us and hits us where we least expect it. We miss them still and always will remember them. How can we ever live without them? We manage, but certainly life will never be the same again.

On Armistice Day those who have died in military service become the focus of reminiscence and thanksgiving. Murray Watts recounts a schoolgirls’ assessment of the situation: 'Armistice was signed on November 11th, 1918, and since then we have had two minutes of peace every year.' Looking at what is going on in the world at present and in the more recent past, how relevant is this comment today?

NATO has just ended its intervention in Libya; fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq continues, while the conflict in the Holy Land is still a concern. During the First and Second World War the fighting and killing took place in Europe, but now it happens elsewhere and seems to have no impact on our lives anymore. Is this really possible if the whole world is connected?

How do we deal with conflicts on such a scale? Different options are available: some may be not too uneasy hearing or reading about them but unable to watch the news on TV, for example. Others may be unable to speak about these terrors. Yet another may be inspired to go and help in some way. Can we feel the pain and shock, or are we overwhelmed and beyond caring?  What is your way of coping and reacting?

The Environmental Movement has coined the phrase 'Think globally – act locally', and this may be similarly applicable to the way we tackle conflicts of all kinds.

Every time we go to Mass we move to give The Peace to those around us. It strikes me that we usually do not stand still for this symbolic action. We move out of our comfort zone of the 'me' to meet the others, even if it is only by stretching out our hand to shake another’s. Whom do we bless in this way? Do we only give the Peace to those we know and like, or do we include the stranger and the person we do not like all that much?

What kind of peace are we talking about here? Is this the often hailed and never achieved absence of disagreement and conflict? How interesting would life be if we all looked and thought alike? Is there a way to live with differences and tensions and still be at peace? Life in London is a great example that this can work. People of all races and religions, as well as underprivileged and well-to-do, live side by side – but there is no revolution taking place.

A look at the life of Jesus may yield answers to the question what this peace means. The word 'shalom', which Jesus would have used, incorporates a range of concepts, such as fullness, completeness, health, rest and harmony. If they are a measure of Christ’s life he certainly was and had all of these – and more. He was always authentic in his actions and reactions and we are called to move towards the same level of wholeness. Maybe this is what heaven will be like. Sometimes one gets a glimpse of such a state of bliss, but most of the time life happens in an environment and in a spiritual state where we are longing for heaven.

So how do we get there? Of course there is always life after death but, like the lady who wants to wear purple when she is an old woman, maybe we should practise a little now. The ways in which we can do this are as different as the God-given personalities we have. One thing is certain: we will be not only better but also happier people if we do. In the present we will be able to live life to the fullest, and when we come to the end of living in this world we may move without regrets into the next life.

Rebecca Elson, a contemporary astronomer, also published poems. The following was written a short time before her death, and it points to new life in the dull dark days of November.

Let there always be light
For this we go out dark nights, searching
For the dimmest stars,
For signs of unseen things:

To weigh us down.
To stop the universe
From rushing on and on
Into its own beyond
Till it exhausts itself and lies down cold,
Its last star going out.

Whatever they turn out to be,
Let there be swarms of them,
Enough for immortality,
Always a star where we can warm ourselves.

Let there even be enough to bring it back
From its own edges, 
To bring us all so close that we ignite
The bright spark of resurrection.
 

If you are in any way like me you will have gathered over the years many things you liked, thought useful or needed at some point in time. After we have used them, what do we do with them? I usually hide them away and forget all about my ‘treasures’ until space is getting tight or, even worse, the clutter is taking over my life.

We love – and  collect – gadgets like computers and mobile phones and are not aware that the raw materials come to us at the high price of wars and poverty in the developing countries where they are extracted. Even if we are aware of the consequences of our squirreling and hoarding habits, what do they say about our need for security and spiritual well-being? How do we go about satisfying it?

These are tough questions to ask oneself, but for me the idea of gathering has other connotations as well. We use the expression “I gather” when we have gained information or knowledge from other people’s communication. When I am in a reflective mood I also think about the people I hold in my memories or recollections. Some are still part of my everyday life, some have gone their way, and yet others I have left behind in my journey through life. How do we respond to these memories? What effect do they have on the way we live?

In the King James Bible the word ‘gathered’ appears two hundred and sixty-seven times, and a number of occasions spring to my mind immediately. One is Matthew 23:37 where Jesus expressed his sadness over the lack of faith in Jerusalem, saying he wanted to be like a mother hen gathering her chicks securely under her wings to protect them, keep them warm and happy. How do we feel under the wing of God’s unconditional love and protection? Do we feel boxed in, and want out? Does it give us a sense of freedom?

Jesus gathered disciples/pupils and other people and surrounded himself with the most unlikely characters; he attracted crowds and the attention of the religious leaders. The crowds loved and followed him, and the leaders and Teachers of the Law were very suspicious, did not trust him and constantly tested his allegiance to the Law, and thus also to the well regarded society. Jesus saw through their attempts to discredit Him in the eyes of the people and frequently ignored them. One such instance is presented by the call of St Matthew.

St Matthew gathered taxes for the hated Roman occupiers, so he was an outsider, if not even an outcast, for the Jewish society. If we put ourselves into Jesus’ shoes we may imagine that Jesus had felt some kind of kinship with this man when He was inspired to call him. Was this a planned action? If not, Jesus may have surprised himself. So apparently was St Matthew, since he was just as quick in responding to this call. What they had in common was their position at the margins of respectable society, if not even outside of it. How would we react to people like Jesus or St Matthew today, more than two millennia after they lived?

Another saying of Jesus in Matthew 12:30 points to a gathering of people for a specific purpose. He says if we do not gather with him we will scatter. This is an excellent reminder that we need to exist within a community of Christians and fellow humans. If we do not, we will be break up. The expression breaking up is a very fitting synonym for the idea of scattering. If we do not stay in contact with other people we can break up. This means not only that the community would fall apart, but a lack of contact with our fellow Christians on a personal level may also lead to ill health spiritually and mentally. So, how much importance do we attach to the well-being of our communities and ourselves? What does community mean for us? Is it just the group of people we meet over coffee after the Sunday service? Could we widen this understanding to include persecuted or struggling churches, as well as believers of other faiths and non-believers? If we do include them, what are the practical implications for our lives and for the lives of those others?

I was tempted to leave this reflection open ended when I came across this from the Celtic Heroic Cycle:

I am the wind which blows over the sea,
I am the wave of the ocean;
I am the murmur of the billows,
I am a tear of the sun, ...
I am a word of science; ...
I am the God who creates in the head of man
the fire of thought.
Who will enlighten each question
If not I?