When compassion is the victim of my hidden values, others become the true victims

‘I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree’ … fresh figs in a supermarket in Rethymnon, Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford,

Sunday 28 February 2016,

The Third Sunday in Lent,

Saint John’s Church, Sandymount,

11 a.m., The Solemn Eucharist

Readings: Isaiah 55: 1-9; Psalm 63: 1-9; I Corinthians 10: 1-13; Luke 13: 1-9.

In the name of + the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen

The story is told of a well-known priest in this diocese who was once asked what he had given up for Lent. He replied: “I have given up the slice of lemon in my gin and tonic. But do not fear, I remain as bitter and tested as ever.”

This morning we have reached the Third Sunday in Lent. We are half-way through Lent, but already, I’m sure, for many of us, our Lenten resolutions have faded, and we are probably as resolute about them as we were about our New Year’s resolutions three weeks into January.

We hungered or thirsted so much for the little food or the little drink that we gave up for Lent that we soon succumbed. But instead of being made feel guilty, instead of being chided, what most of us need is encouragement and affirmation. Both are found in our readings this morning, but those readings also urge us to hunger and thirst for the real food and drink that God offers us.

Our Old Testament reading (Isaiah 55: 1-9) concludes the section known as Second Isaiah, which begins in Chapter 40. It was written during the Exile, after Babylon had fallen to the Persians. The key themes are: the way of the Lord, calling the people to enjoy God’s gifts, a new deliverance, the word of the Lord, the king, heaven and earth, God’s relationship with Israel, forgiveness, and the participation of other nations.

All who thirst for God, especially those who are impoverished and have no money, are invited to eat freely at the heavenly banquet, the meal that symbolises God’s loving generosity and abundance (verse 1).

We are told that God’s “everlasting covenant,” first with one person, David, has been extended to his successors, then to his people, and is now offered all nations, all people (verses 4-5), even those who have done evil in the past but who now forsake those ways (verse 7). God is not only to be found in the Temple, but among all who seek him:

Seek the Lord while he may be found,
call upon him while he is near … (verse 6).

In our Psalm too (Psalm 63: 1-8), we hear what it is to thirst for the Lord (verse 1). But the same mouths that thirst for God in the wilderness, also praise him with joyful lips (verse 5).

That thirsting in the wilderness helps the Apostle Paul to illustrate our Epistle reading (I Corinthians 10: 1-13), where he urges the Christians in Corinth to thirst for the true “spiritual food” (verse 3), for the true “spiritual drink” (verse 4).

These are interesting preludes to our Gospel reading (Luke 13: 1-9), where we hear of the chilling and horrific deaths of two groups of people that made headline news at the time.

In those days, it was commonly believed that pain and premature death were signs of God’s adverse judgment. We think like that today: how often do people think those who are sick, suffer infirmities, have injuries, die because they cannot afford health care? They don’t die because they cannot afford healthcare – they die because governments prefer to spend money on weapons and wars or in giving tax breaks to the rich, rather than spending money on health care for those who need it.

Looking across the countryside in Crete from an old Venetian tower … why were the workers killed accidentally in the Tower of Siloam? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

The first group in this Gospel reading, a group of Galileans, from Christ’s own home province, believed they were doing God’s will as they worshipped in the Temple. But they were killed intentionally as they sacrificed to God in the Temple. Even in death, they were degraded further when, on Pilate’s orders, their blood was mixed with the blood of the Temple sacrifices.

In a single act of capricious violence, Pilate humiliated the nation, its religion, its culture, and the very presence of God. In a single act, he violated: the altar in the Temple; the ritual practices held there; the sacred place reserved for priests; the animals made holy by prayers; and the murdered Galileans who had been standing at that altar.

Think of our horror today at people who are murdered at worship: the people in the Gospel Hall in Darkley (1983); Oscar Romero saying Mass in San Salvador (1980); or children murdered in Dunblane (1996) or in recent school shootings and drive-by shootings in the United States.

The second group in our Gospel reading, numbering 18 in all, were building workers who were killed accidentally as they were building the Tower of Siloam.

Think of our horror today at people who die accidently, not because of their own mistakes or sinfulness; people who die daily of hunger and poverty; children born to die because they are HIV +, because their parents live in poverty, because of circumstances not of their choosing; children who die in dangerous and treacherous sea crossing in the Aegean between the coast of Turkey and the Greek islands ...

How easy it is for us, for example, to talk about “innocent victims” – of wars, of AIDS, of gangland killings – as though some people deserve to die like that.

But in both cases in our Gospel reading – in all these cases – Christ says no, there is no link between an early and an unjust death and the sins of the past or the sins of past generations.

In those days, it was commonly believed that pain and premature death were signs of God’s adverse judgment. At the time, it was commonly believed that severe physical disabilities or an early death were natural and just consequences for the sins of the past, even the sins of past generations.

We think like that today: how often do people think those who are sick, suffer infirmities, have injuries die because they cannot afford health care? How often do we shift our focus so that we blame people traffickers rather than asking why people are fleeing war? How often do we forget or deny their humanity and instead listen to politicians talking of “hordes” and “swarms” of people threatening “Fortress Europe”?

In both stories, we could explain away what we might otherwise see as the inexplicable way God allows other people to suffer and die by saying they brought it on themselves by their sins, or the sins of their ancestors … or, in today’s language, by saying they cannot afford to pay for health care, or they bring it on themselves by their lifestyle, or they need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, or they ought to stay in their own countries.

My compassion is the victim of my hidden values, and so others become the victims.

Siloam provides an interesting place for Christ to challenge this “received wisdom” when he meets the man born blind and heals him at the Pool of Siloam, one of the seven “signs” in Saint John’s Gospel (see John 9: 1-7).

Now, we have another story about Siloam, as Christ links the execution of Galilean rebels with the tragedy surrounding the collapse of the Tower of Siloam.

Many may have expected him to say that their deaths were in punishment for their rebellious behaviour, in the case of the Galilean rebels, or collaborative behaviour, in the case of the workers who were building a water supply system for the Roman occupiers.

Is Christ indifferent to political and environmental disasters?

Instead of meeting those expectations, Christ teaches that death comes to everyone, regardless of how sinful I am, regardless of my birth, politics or social background, or – even more certainly – my smug sense of religious pride and righteousness. And he goes on to teach how we each need to repent – even when, in the eyes of others, we do not appear to need repentance.

Death comes to everyone. But that death need not be physical at all – spiritual death is the most deadening, for it brings with it not only loss of Communion with God, but it brings with it the loss of hope, the loss of trust, the loss of love for others and for ourselves, the loss of true compassion. And sometimes that sort of death comes suddenly and without warning.

Seek the Lord while he may be found,
call upon him while he is near …

It is so tempting to excuse or dismiss the sufferings of others. To say they brought it on themselves offers us an opt-out: we can claim to have compassion, but need not respond to it, nor need to do anything to challenge the injustice that is the underlying cause of this suffering.

Yet, in the parable of the fig tree, we are called on to wait, we are urged not to be too hasty in our judgment on those who seem in our eyes to do nothing to improve their lot.

It makes logical, economic and financial sense for the owner to want to chop down the fig tree – after all, not only is it taking up space, but it also costs in terms of time, tending, feeding, caring and nurturing. The owner knows what it is to make a quick profit, and if the quick profit is not coming soon enough he wants to cut his losses.

It takes much tender care and many years – at least three years – for a fig tree to bear fruit. And even then, in a vineyard, the figs are not a profit – they are a bonus.

Even if a fig tree bears early fruit, the Mosaic Law said it could not be harvested for three years, and the fruit gathered in the fourth year was going to offered as the first fruits. Only in the fifth year, then, could the fruit be eaten.

So, if this tree was chopped down, and another put its place, it would take longer still to get fruit that could be eaten or sold. In his quest for the quick buck, the owner of the vineyard shows little knowledge about the reality of economics.

The gardener, who has nothing at stake, turns out to be the one not only has compassion, but has deep-seated wisdom too. The gardener, who is never going to benefit from the owner’s profits, can see the tree’s potential, is willing to let be and wait, knowing what the fig tree is today and what it can do in the future.

I once saw a T-short on sale in the Plaka in Athens with the slogan: “To do is to be, Socrates. To be is to do, Plato. Do-be-do-be-do, Sinatra.”

Of course there are different types of people: there are the “do-ers” and there are the “be-ers.”

But whichever you are, we need the balance of the other. Emphasising the spiritual without understanding the world we live in leads to us being irrelevant. On the other hand, actively doing good, without any deep and truly spiritual foundations, leads to burn-out and disillusion.

We are called to hunger and thirst for righteousness (Matthew 5: 6), but wishing is not enough. Christ reminds us in our Gospel reading this morning that we are called to bear fruit too … and he is patient in waiting for faith to produce fruit.

Last week, the Greek Prime Minister accused other European leaders of failing to put compassion into action, and warned of the danger of Greece becoming “a warehouse of souls.”

Saint Paul reminds the Corinthians – and so reminds us too this morning – that we are called to be both “do-ers” and “be-ers.” In that way, all may know that they are invited to the heavenly banquet, where there will be eating and drinking for the hungry and the thirsty, and for all.

But we can decide where we place our trust – in the values that I think serve me but serve the rich, the powerful and the oppressor, or in the God who sees our plight, who hears our cry, and who comes in Christ to deliver us.

And so, may all we think, say and do be to the glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford lectures in the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. This sermon was preached at the Solemn Eucharist in Saint John’s Church, Sandymount, Dublin, on the Third Sunday in Lent, Sunday 28 February 2016.

Luke 13: 1-9:

1 Παρῆσαν δέ τινες ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ καιρῷ ἀπαγγέλλοντες αὐτῷ περὶ τῶν Γαλιλαίωνὧν τὸ αἷμα Πιλᾶτος ἔμιξεν μετὰ τῶν θυσιῶν αὐτῶν. 2 καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Δοκεῖτε ὅτι οἱ Γαλιλαῖοι οὗτοι ἁμαρτωλοὶ παρὰ πάντας τοὺς Γαλιλαίους ἐγένοντο, ὅτι ταῦτα πεπόνθασιν; 3 οὐχί, λέγω ὑμῖν, ἀλλ' ἐὰν μὴ μετανοῆτε πάντες ὁμοίως ἀπολεῖσθε. 4 ἢ ἐκεῖνοι οἱ δεκαοκτὼ ἐφ' οὓς ἔπεσεν ὁ πύργος ἐν τῷ Σιλωὰμ καὶ ἀπέκτεινεν αὐτούς, δοκεῖτε ὅτι αὐτοὶ ὀφειλέται ἐγένοντο παρὰ πάντας τοὺς ἀνθρώπους τοὺς κατοικοῦντας Ἰερουσαλήμ; 5 οὐχί, λέγω ὑμῖν, ἀλλ' ἐὰν μὴ μετανοῆτε πάντες ὡσαύτως ἀπολεῖσθε.

6 Ἔλεγεν δὲ ταύτην τὴν παραβολήν: Συκῆν εἶχέν τις πεφυτευμένην ἐν τῷ ἀμπελῶνι αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἦλθεν ζητῶν καρπὸν ἐν αὐτῇ καὶ οὐχ εὗρεν. 7 εἶπεν δὲ πρὸς τὸν ἀμπελουργόν, Ἰδοὺ τρία ἔτη ἀφ' οὗ ἔρχομαι ζητῶν καρπὸν ἐν τῇ συκῇ ταύτῃ καὶ οὐχ εὑρίσκω. ἔκκοψον [οὖν] αὐτήν: ἱνατί καὶ τὴν γῆν καταργεῖ; 8 ὁ δὲ ἀποκριθεὶς λέγει αὐτῷ, Κύριε, ἄφες αὐτὴν καὶ τοῦτο τὸ ἔτος, ἕως ὅτου σκάψω περὶ αὐτὴν καὶ βάλω κόπρια: 9 κἂν μὲν ποιήσῃ καρπὸν εἰς τὸ μέλλον. εἰ δὲ μή γε, ἐκκόψεις αὐτήν.

1 At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2 He asked them, ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? 3 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. 4 Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them – do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? 5 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.’

6 Then he told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7 So he said to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” 8 He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig round it and put manure on it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down”.’

Collect:

Merciful Lord, Grant your people grace to withstand the temptations
of the world, the flesh and the devil
and with pure hearts and minds to follow you, the only God; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Post Communion Prayer:

Lord our God,
you feed us in this life with bread from heaven,
the pledge and foreshadowing of future glory.
Grant that the working of this sacrament within us
may bear fruit in our daily lives;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Waiting in Advent 2015 with Dietrich Bonhoeffer (23)

‘The Mary who is speaking here is passionate, carried away, proud, enthusiastic’ … the apse in the Church of the Four Martyrs in Rethymnon, Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

In our journey towards Christmas, we are in the fourth and final week of Advent today [21 December 2015], with just four days to go to Christmas Day. I was writing yesterday of how the fourth and final candle on the Advent Wreath this week represents the Virgin Mary.

During the season of Advent this year, I am working my way through my own Advent Calendar. Each morning, I am inviting you to join me for a few, brief moments in reflecting on the meaning of Advent through the words and meditations of the great German theologian and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945).

In his Advent sermon in London on 17 December 1933, Bonhoeffer says the Canticle Magnificat, the Song of the Virgin Mary, “is the oldest Advent hymn.” He goes on to say:

“It is the most passionate, the wildest, and one might almost say the most revolutionary Advent hymn that has ever been sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary as we often see her portrayed in paintings. The Mary who is speaking here is passionate, carried away, proud, enthusiastic. There is none of the sweet, wistful, or even playful tone of many of our Christmas carols, but instead a hard, strong, relentless hymn about the toppling of the thrones and the humiliation of the lords of this world, about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind. This is the sound of the prophetic women of the Old Testament – Deborah, Judith, Miriam – coming to life in the mouth of Mary. Mary, who was seized by the Holy Spirit, who humbly and obediently lets it be done unto her as the Spirit commands her, who lets the Spirit blows where it will [John 3: 8] – she speaks by the power of this Spirit, about God’s coming into the world, about the Advent of Jesus Christ.”

Readings (Church of Ireland lectionary): Psalm 116: 11-17; II Samuel 7: 1-17; Titus 2: 11 – 3: 8a.

The Collect of the Day:

God our redeemer,
who prepared the blessed Virgin Mary
to be the mother of your Son:
Grant that, as she looked for his coming as our saviour,
so we may be ready to greet him
when he comes again as our judge;
who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

The Advent Collect:

Almighty God,
Give us grace to cast away the works of darkness
and to put on the armour of light
now in the time of this mortal life
in which your Son Jesus Christ came to us in great humility;
that on the last day
when he shall come again in his glorious majesty
to judge the living and the dead,
we may rise to the life immortal;
through him who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

‘She knows the secret of his coming’ … a copy of the Icon of Panaghia tou Harou on the Greek island of Lipsi (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Yesterday’s reflection.

Continued tomorrow.

Waiting in Advent 2015 with Dietrich Bonhoeffer (20)

‘… a spiritual tradition that reaches through the centuries’ … inside the Church of the Four Martyrs in Rethymnon, Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

This morning [18 December 2015], I awake to the realisation that there is only one week left to Christmas Day. I have so little done, there are still presents to wrap and cards to write.

But over these past three weeks I have been preparing for Christmas in another way. During the season of Advent this year, I am working my way through my own Advent Calendar. Each morning, I am inviting you to join me for a few, brief moments in reflecting on the meaning of Advent through the words and meditations of the great German theologian and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945).

Bonhoeffer once wrote:

“The awareness of a spiritual tradition that reaches through the centuries gives one a certain feeling of security in the face of all transitory difficulties.”

Readings (Church of Ireland lectionary): Psalm 114; Genesis 3: 8-15; Revelation 12: 1-10.

The Collect of the Day:

O Lord Jesus Christ,
who at your first coming sent your messenger
to prepare your way before you:
Grant that the ministers and stewards of your mysteries
may likewise so prepare and make ready your way
by turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just,
that at your second coming to judge the world
we may be found an acceptable people in your sight;
for you are alive and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit,
one God, world without end.

The Advent Collect:

Almighty God,
Give us grace to cast away the works of darkness
and to put on the armour of light
now in the time of this mortal life
in which your Son Jesus Christ came to us in great humility;
that on the last day
when he shall come again in his glorious majesty
to judge the living and the dead,
we may rise to the life immortal;
through him who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Yesterday’s reflection.

Continued tomorrow.

Waiting in Advent 2015 with Dietrich Bonhoeffer (18)

‘Make me holy and pure’ ... in Arkadi Monastery in Crete (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

During the season of Advent this year, I am working my way through my own Advent Calendar. Each morning, I am inviting you to join me for a few, brief moments in reflecting on the meaning of Advent through the words and meditations of the great German theologian and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945).

In his Advent sermon in Barcelona in 1928, Bonhoeffer said:

“A groan wrests itself from our breast, ‘Come, God, Lord Jesus Christ, come into our world, into our homelessness, into our sin, into our death, come you yourself, and share with us, be a human being as we are and conquer for us….Come along into my death, into my sufferings and struggles, and make me holy and pure despite this evil, despite death’.” (DBW 10: 543)

Readings (Church of Ireland lectionary): Psalm 40; Zechariah 8: 9-17; Revelation 6: 1-17.

The Collect of the Day:

O Lord Jesus Christ,
who at your first coming sent your messenger
to prepare your way before you:
Grant that the ministers and stewards of your mysteries
may likewise so prepare and make ready your way
by turning the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the just,
that at your second coming to judge the world
we may be found an acceptable people in your sight;
for you are alive and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit,
one God, world without end.

The Advent Collect:

Almighty God,
Give us grace to cast away the works of darkness
and to put on the armour of light
now in the time of this mortal life
in which your Son Jesus Christ came to us in great humility;
that on the last day
when he shall come again in his glorious majesty
to judge the living and the dead,
we may rise to the life immortal;
through him who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Yesterday’s reflection.

Continued tomorrow.

Waiting in Advent 2015 with Dietrich Bonhoeffer (2)

‘Waiting … wants to break open the ripe fruit’ … fresh figs in a supermarket in Rethymnon, Crete, in September (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

Advent began yesterday [29 November 2015] with the First Sunday of Advent and the beginning of the new Church Year.

Over these few weeks, as we wait and prepare for Christmas, I invite you to join me in my own Advent Calendar each morning for a few, brief moments as I reflect on the meaning of Advent through the words of the great German theologian and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945).

In a sermon preached in Barcelona on the first Sunday of Advent, 2 December 1928, Bonhoeffer said:

“Celebrating Advent means being able to wait. Waiting, however, is an art that our impatient age has forgotten. It wants to break open the ripe fruit when it has hardly finished planting the shoot. But all too often the greedy eyes are only deceived; the fruit that seemed so precious is still green on the inside, and disrespected hands ungratefully toss aside what has so disappointed them.”

Readings (Revised Common Lectionary): Isaiah 52: 7-10; Psalm 19: 1-6; Romans 10: 12-18; Matthew 4: 18-22.

Collect of the Day:

Almighty God,
who gave such grace to your apostle Saint Andrew
that he readily obeyed the call of your Son Jesus Christ
and brought his brother with him:
Call us by your holy Word
and give us grace to follow without delay,
and to tell the good news of your kingdom;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

The Church of Saint Andrew and Saint Mary in Grantchester, near Cambridge (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Yesterday’s reflection

Continued tomorrow

Bringing the fruits of the harvest to those who are signs of the kingdom

Blackberries coming to full fruit in Greystones, Co Wicklow, last week … a sign of a late harvest (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

Harvest Thanksgiving Eucharist,

Straffan, Co Kildare,

3.30 p.m., Sunday 18 October 2015.

Readings: Joel 2: 21-27; Psalm 126; I Timothy 2: 1-7; Matthew 6: 25-33.

May I speak to you in the name of + the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

I want to thank your rector, the Revd Stephen Neill, for inviting me to your Harvest Thanksgiving celebrations this afternoon.

Stephen has been a good friend for many years, and I was delighted to attend his institution earlier this year as your rector: I know you are blessed to have him here, and I am sure he is equally blessed to be with you here.

Although I live in south Dublin, I have actually stayed in Straffan, and in Barberstown Castle earlier this summer when I was taking part in a wedding.

Living in Dublin, and living close to where I work in the south Dublin suburbs, I need to get out into the countryside on a regular basis, and to be in touch with the cycle of life and growth, sowing and harvest.

Last week, I was in Greystones, and was surprised how late autumn actually is this year. Like many people who grew up in the countryside, I grew up knowing the old country belief that blackberries should not be picked after Michaelmas, Saint Michael’s Day, 29 September. But three weeks later, the blackberries are still ripening on the brambles. Summer was too wet and too cold to allow them to come to full fruit until recent weeks.

I know that for many farmers, this has been a poor summer, but the interesting version of an “Indian Summer” we had in recent weeks provided many farmers with some compensation at harvest time.

The weather these past few weeks has compensated for the summer rains. Two weeks ago, while I was in Co Wexford, it was to see how farmers were gathering in a late harvest. The fields are still green and gold in many of these parts of Co Kildare this weekend.

Harvest fields of green and gold between Kilmuckridge and Kilnamanagh, Co Wexford, two weeks ago (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

I was in Wexford two weeks ago because I regularly need to get in touch with my roots. Despite living in Dublin for so many years, I still yearn for those fields of green and gold that give that sense of belonging that many of us get when we move out of the city and return to provincial and rural life.

Going back to places that shape us and give us identity helps to integrate ourselves, spiritually as well as every other way, and helps us to prepare ourselves for the next steps forward in life.

It is as though, psychologically and spiritually, we need to take stock of what is in the barn, be aware of the riches and blessings we have from God in the past and in the present, so that in faith we can move forward.

Autumn seems a good time to take stock in all those ways. The summer holidays are over, the children are back at school, colleges and universities have reopened. Before the clocks go back and the winter evenings close in, now is the time to take a few steps back and just see where we are going.

It is time to take stock of the riches we have been blessed with, to realise what we have and what we no longer need, what we have been blessed with and what we can bless others with, what is there and what is missing.

Sometimes it is good to count our blessings. As the Prophet Joel says in our Old Testament reading this afternoon: “Be glad and rejoice, for the Lord has done great things” (Joel 2: 21).

I see that in this parish, the ‘Harvest Appeal’ is going to the Church of Ireland Bishops’ Appeal Fund. I was interested, during the Diocesan Synod last week [13 October 2015], to see how generous you have been in previous years in your giving to the Bishops’ Appeal.

But it might be good and appropriate stewardship to report back to you on some of the ways that money is used and spent.

The Bishops’ Appeal is one of the generous supporters of the work of Us, or the United Society, previously known as the United Society for the Propagation of the Gospel.

Us, the old USPG, is more than 130 years older than Straffan Church building – it was founded back in 1703, making it one of the oldest Anglican mission agencies, and I am a member of the boards and trustees in Ireland and in .

And I spent the best part of a week this summer at a residential conference at the High Leigh Conference Centre in England, where I heard about exciting and fresh new things that are being done by this old mission agency.

Sheba Sultan, a writer and member of the Church of Pakistan, spoke about the challenges facing women in Pakistan.

Canon Delene Mark from South Africa spoke of people trafficking, especially the trafficking of young women, and the abuse of young women, yet could still tell us how the Church can ensure the Gospel is good news for women. He said: “The Gospel is good news for women. How? Only through us.”

The Revd Dr Miranda Threlfall-Holmes, author of The Essential History of Christianity, discussed gender justice with Dr Paulo Ueti, a theologian and New Testament scholar from Brazil.

The Revd Dr Monodeep Daniel, of the Delhi Brotherhood Society, drew on the Old Testament story of the rape of Tamar (see II Samuel 13) as he spoke of the way the Delhi Brotherhood works with women who suffer domestic and sexual violence, especially women who suffer doubly because of their gender and their caste.

Anjum Anwar is a Muslim woman on the staff of Blackburn Cathedral. She challenged us about how we live as good neighbours with people of different religious beliefs and values given the tensions we live with in the world today.

Since that conference in High Leigh at the end of July, I have also been receiving regular briefings about how Us has taken on as its Advent this year the role of co-ordinating fundraising on behalf of the Anglican Diocese in Europe as it reaches out to refugees arriving throughout Europe.

The Diocese in Europe is working on the frontline with refugees, and has asked Us to be the official agency for Anglican churches in Britain and Ireland to channel donations for its work, providing emergency medical support, food, shelter and pastoral care for refugees.

The initial focus, of course, is on the situation in Greece, working with people who are fleeing conflicts in Syria, Afghanistan and Eritrea. The need for healthcare is particularly acute. Many refugees, including the elderly and children, are arriving in need of urgent medical care, but Greece’s overstretched public resources, and the lack of medicines in the country, mean many refugees are going untreated.

At the moment, the diocese has committed to the following initiatives in partnership with the Greek Orthodox Church:

● On the Island of Leros, a church centre is housing refugees and providing food, clothing, toiletries and medicine.

● On the Island of Samos, a church hostel is caring for 600 refugees, many of whom have medical needs. The hostel is mostly supporting Iraqi and Afghan refugees.

● In Athens, the church is working with the Salvation Army to provide food, water and medicine to refugees who congregate in local parks.

This work goes hand-in-hand with local initiatives throughout Greece. Last month I was privileged to visit twice the voluntary work of doctors, pharmacists and other volunteers who have set up a clinic and advice centre working with people without papers or without insurance from a shop front in a back street of Rethymnon in Crete.

All this work shows how relevant mission is in the world today. A mission agency that is over 300 years old is meeting the most contemporary and the most pressing needs in our world today.

These people are like the birds of the air, unable to sow or reap or gather for themselves. But by caring for them, by responding to their needs, the Church is showing that God still cares for them, that we know they are loved by God and so are worth caring for ourselves.

Taking stock of what we have in our barns, and giving thanks for the harvest are important ways of celebrating and of praising God. But in giving thanks and in giving to the Bishops’ Appeal you are also showing that the Kingdom of God spreads beyond the boundaries of borders of our own parish and diocese.

May you continue to rejoice in the harvest and be generous in your giving – the two go together – so that others may know of the love of God, and so that we may express this in our love for others.

As Christ tells us in our Gospel reading this afternoon: “Strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6: 33).

And so, may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns (Matthew 6: 26) … a barn on a farm at Cross in Hand Lane, outside Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Collect:

Eternal God,
you crown the year with your goodness
and give us the fruits of the earth in their season:
Grant that we may use them to your glory,
for the relief of those in need
and for our own well-being;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute, and a canon of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin. This sermon was preached at the Harvest Thanksgiving Service in Straffan Church, Co Kildare, on 14 October 2015.

Mark 10: 35-45, serving the hungry and beggars in ministry and liturgy

I was reminded in Crete recently that ‘The Beggars’ Opera’ translates into Greek as Η λαϊκή όπερα (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Patrick Comerford

Introduction

In these tutorial groups in previous years, the Bible studies have looked at different themes, including:

● The readings in the Revised Common Lectionary, not for the following Sunday, but the Sunday after, so that any of us who are preaching have opportunities to reflect on the readings before beginning to write a sermon.

● The Johannine readings, including Saint John’s Gospel, the Johannine Letters, and the Book of Revelation, in various combinations.

● The Pastoral Letters, which are appropriate studies in ministry.

● Heroes of the Bible and heroes of the faith.

The choice is yours, but while you think about this, I have prepared a short study for this morning [10 October 2015].

The readings in the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) for tomorrow week [Sunday 18 October 2015], the 20th Sunday after Trinity, are:

Job 38: 1-7; Psalm 104: 1-10, 26, 37c; Hebrews 5: 1-10; Mark 10: 35-45.

The Gospel reading (Mark 10: 35-45) is probably the Gospel reading you also hear at your ordination as deacons, and so it is an appropriate Gospel reading for our first Bible study together in this tutorial group this morning.

Mark 10: 35-45

35 Καὶ προσπορεύονται αὐτῷ Ἰάκωβος καὶ Ἰωάννης οἱ υἱοὶ Ζεβεδαίου λέγοντες αὐτῷ, Διδάσκαλε, θέλομεν ἵνα ὃ ἐὰν αἰτήσωμέν σε ποιήσῃς ἡμῖν. 36 ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Τί θέλετέ [με] ποιήσω ὑμῖν; 37 οἱ δὲ εἶπαν αὐτῷ, Δὸς ἡμῖν ἵνα εἷς σου ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ εἷς ἐξ ἀριστερῶν καθίσωμεν ἐν τῇ δόξῃ σου. 38 ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Οὐκ οἴδατε τί αἰτεῖσθε. δύνασθε πιεῖν τὸ ποτήριον ὃ ἐγὼ πίνω, ἢ τὸ βάπτισμα ὃ ἐγὼ βαπτίζομαι βαπτισθῆναι; 39 οἱ δὲ εἶπαν αὐτῷ, Δυνάμεθα. ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτοῖς, Τὸ ποτήριον ὃ ἐγὼ πίνω πίεσθε καὶ τὸ βάπτισμα ὃ ἐγὼ βαπτίζομαι βαπτισθήσεσθε, 40 τὸ δὲ καθίσαι ἐκ δεξιῶν μου ἢ ἐξ εὐωνύμων οὐκ ἔστιν ἐμὸν δοῦναι, ἀλλ' οἷς ἡτοίμασται.

41 Καὶ ἀκούσαντες οἱ δέκα ἤρξαντο ἀγανακτεῖν περὶ Ἰακώβου καὶ Ἰωάννου. 42 καὶ προσκαλεσάμενος αὐτοὺς ὁ Ἰησοῦς λέγει αὐτοῖς, Οἴδατε ὅτι οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν τῶν ἐθνῶν κατακυριεύουσιν αὐτῶν καὶ οἱ μεγάλοι αὐτῶν κατεξουσιάζουσιν αὐτῶν. 43 οὐχ οὕτως δέ ἐστιν ἐν ὑμῖν: ἀλλ' ὃς ἂν θέλῃ μέγας γενέσθαι ἐν ὑμῖν, ἔσται ὑμῶν διάκονος, 44 καὶ ὃς ἂν θέλῃ ἐν ὑμῖν εἶναι πρῶτος, ἔσται πάντων δοῦλος: 45 καὶ γὰρ ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου οὐκ ἦλθεν διακονηθῆναι ἀλλὰ διακονῆσαι καὶ δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν.

Mark 10: 35-45 (NRSV)

35 James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, ‘Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.’ 36 And he said to them, ‘What is it you want me to do for you?’ 37 And they said to him, ‘Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.’ 38 But Jesus said to them, ‘You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?’ 39 They replied, ‘We are able.’ Then Jesus said to them, ‘The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; 40 but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.’

41 When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. 42 So Jesus called them and said to them, ‘You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. 43 But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, 44 and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. 45 For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’

Introducing the reading:

Whenever I read this Gospel story (Mark 10: 35-45), I think back to my childhood days. I remember all those preparations for football matches, as we lined up to pick sides. And how we all wanted to be among the first to be picked for a team.

Everyone wanted to be picked first, everyone wanted to line up there beside one of the two captains, no-one wanted to be picked last, even when there were enough places for everyone to get a game.

I can still see them: 9- or 10-year-old boys, jumping up and down on the grass, waving our hands or pointing at our chests, and pleading: “Me, me, please pick me, I’m your friend.”

“Me, me, please pick me.”

And then when we were picked how we wanted the glory. Slow at passing the ball, in case I might not score the goal. Better to lose that ball in a tackle than to pass it to someone else and risk someone else scoring the winning goal.

And that’s who James and John remind me of: wanting to be picked first, wanting to be the first to line up beside the team captain, being glory seekers rather than team players.

No wonder the other ten were upset when they heard this. But they were upset, not because they wanted to take on the servant model of priesthood and ministry. They were upset not because James and John hadn’t yet grasped the point of it all. They were upset because they might have been counted out, because they might have missed out being on the first team, on the first XI.

And their upset actually turns to anger. Not the sort of candidates you would like to meet at a selection conference.

Did James and John think that opting to follow Jesus, becoming disciples, was a good career move?

And what did James and John want in reality?

They wanted that one would sit on Christ’s right hand and the other on his left.

Now, even that might not have been too bad an ambition. The man who stood at the right hand of the Emperor in the Byzantine court was the Emperor’s voice. What he said was the emperor’s word. And so, in the creed, when we declare our belief that Christ sits at the right hand of the Father, we mean not that there is some heavenly couch on which all three are seated, comfy and cosy, as if waiting to watch their favourite television sit-com.

Christ as the model for diaconal ministry

In Andrei Rublev’s icon of the Holy Trinity … the Christ-figure is wearing a simple deacon’s stole, and is seated with the Father and the Holy Spirit to his left and to his right

When we say that Christ “is seated at the right hand of the Father,” we mean that Christ is the Word of God. In some way, I suppose, this is what Andrei Rublev was trying to convey in his icon of the Visitation of Abraham, his icon of the Holy Trinity in the Old Testament, which we are looking at as an aid in the Bible Studies in the seminar on liturgy with full-time MTh students on Monday morning [12 October 2015].

In that icon, the Father and the Spirit are seated to the right and left of the Son. Indeed, in that icon, Christ is wearing not the elaborate high-priestly stole of a bishop, but the simple stole of a deacon at the table.

For James and John to want to be seated at the right and left of Christ in his glory – not when they were sitting down to a snack, or travelling on the bus, or even at the Last Supper, but in his glory (see verse 37) – they were was expressing an ambition to take the place of, to replace God.

But to be like God means to take on Christ’s humility, as we are reminded in the reading from the Letter to the Hebrews.

We are made in the image and likeness of God, and then God asks us, invites us to return to that image and likeness when Christ comes in our image and likeness – not as a Byzantine emperor or Roman tyrant, but just as one of us.

Wanting to be first, wanting to be noticed by those with power and privilege, is not a model for diaconal ministry.

At present, we see deacons as serving in a one-year transitional ministry, on the pathway to priesthood, perhaps even eventually to the episcopate.

And it is good that those who serve the Church as bishops and priests are reminded on days like this that they were first ordained as deacons and that they remain deacons … that the diaconal ministry, the ministry of service, is at the heart of the ministry of the Church.

In a sermon almost 400 years ago on Whit Sunday 1622, the Caroline Divine Lancelot Andrewes says all three orders of ministry depend on this one ministry of diakonia, through which they truly become a “ministry or service; and that on foot, and through the dust; for so is the nature of the word.”*

In his epistles, a word that Saint Paul uses for ministry is διακονία, the ministry of the διάκονος, the one who serves like those who wait on tables, the ministry of those who help meet the needs of and remind us of those who are neglected and needy by either collecting or distributing charity and making sure they are fed.

Serving the people

You may be wearied of being reminded by me that the word liturgy (Λειτουργία) is the work for and of the people. But in its truest sense this is not the work of nice people, good people, people like us, but in its crudest use in Greek the work of the many, the service of riff-raff, even the beggars.

I was reminded in Crete recently that The Beggars’ Opera translates into Greek as Η λαϊκή όπερα.

In other words, the liturgy of the Church only becomes a true service when we also serve the oppressed, when we become God’s ears that hear the cry of the poor, and act on that, when through the Church Christ hears that cry of the bruised and broken.

Deacons are to encourage us all, archbishops, bishops, priests, laity, to take stock again. We are challenged by diaconal ministry to move from merely acting out the liturgy to making the church a sacrament, a taste, a sign, a token of the promise of, a thirsting for the Kingdom of God.

And to do this great task, as the ambitious pair, James and John, are reminded in our Gospel reading, we must be deacons first in ministry, servants and slaves. We could translate the Greek original of verse 43 (ἀλλ' ὃς ἂν θέλῃ μέγας γενέσθαι ἐν ὑμῖν, ἔσται ὑμῶν διάκονος) as: “and whoever wishes to become great among you must be your deacon.”

To be a great Church we must be a Servant Church, a deacon Church, “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for [the] many” (Mark 10: 45).

The foundation of all ordained ministry is our diaconate. We are called first and foremost to serve. And when we serve the people, when in obedience we meet them in their suffering, then we can hear their cries and their prayers and truly serve them in the services of the Church and in the Divine Liturgy (see Hebrews 5: 1-10).

It was in humbling himself as a servant that Christ truly became the role model for all deacons, priests and bishops.

Are we willing to be like Christ in our ministry?

Christ asks us that in this Gospel reading. Are we willing to drink the cup that he drinks, or to be baptised with his baptism (see verses 38 and 40)?

Of course James and John were. See how this hot-headed pair, the sons of Zebedee, went on to serve the community of the baptised and the community that shared in the one bread and the one cup, the community that is the Church, the community that in baptism and in the shared meal is the Body of Christ.

James – not James the Brother of the Lord, whom we remember on the following Friday (23 October 2015), but James the Great – was executed by the sword and became one of the first Christian martyrs (see Acts 12: 1-12).

John too lived a life of service to the Church: he was exiled on Patmos, and although he died in old age in Ephesus, there were numerous attempts to make him a martyr. And, of course, he gave his name to in the Johannine writings in the New Testament.

Martyrdom comes in many forms. In essence the word means witness. But the first step in martyrdom is dying to self, to self-ambition, to self-seeking, to self-serving. Your life must be a life that is testimony to your most cherished beliefs, testimony to Christ himself.

We love our titles in Anglicanism – canon, archdeacon, prebendary, dean – and we can all too easily stand firmly on our dignity, and even on our dignitaries if they get in our way.

But you are not entering a career with good prospects. There is nothing wrong with any one of you wanting to be a bishop. There is something wrong if you are here seeing that as a career goal.

“For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10: 45).

Collect:

Almighty God,
whose Holy Spirit equips your Church with a rich variety of gifts:
Grant us so to use them that, living the gospel of Christ
and eager to do your will,
we may share with the whole creation in the joys of eternal life;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Post Communion Prayer

God our Father,
whose Son, the light unfailing,
has come from heaven to deliver the world
from the darkness of ignorance:
Let these holy mysteries open the eyes of our understanding
that we may know the way of life, and walk in it without stumbling;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Note: 18 October is also the Feast of Saint Luke the Evangelist. The RCL readings for that day, if chosen, are: Isaiah 35: 3-6 or Acts 16: 6-12a; Psalm 147: 1-7; II Timothy 4: 5-17; Luke 10: 1-9.

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. This introduction to a Bible study was prepared for a tutorial group with part-time MTh students on 10 October 2015.

The taste of a Greek summer lingers as the evenings close in

Picture-postcard images of Greek islands on the shelves of Lidl this evening (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

I’m back from Greece for little more than a week, but already I am missing Greek food – the fresh fruit available every morning in the local supermarket in Platanes on the eastern edges of Rethymnon, the freshly-baked bread and pastries from the bakery downstairs, the taste of real Greek yoghurt and real Greek feta, the fresh figs and fleshy olives, the pomegranates, the aubergines, the peppers, the grapes growing on the vines …

There was a Lidl supermarket behind Julia Apartments, where I was staying for the week, and I even joked about whether they had regular Irish weeks, just like Lidl stores in Dublin have regular Greek weeks.

But this evening, I was glad to live so close to a Lidl supermarket.

It’s Greek Week once again there … the first they have had since last May.

Being homesick for Greek food was aggravated last night as I stayed up late watching the Greek election results coming in on television news channels.

This evening, on the way home from work, I stopped off in my local Lidl for stuffed peppers, baklava, halva, cheese pies, Greek yoghurt (not Greek-style yoghurt), tzatziki, feta, broad beans … even a few bars of olive soap, all from the Eridanous range, all decorated in the Blue and White national colours, and often with images of sun-kissed Santorini, with blue domes and roofs over white-washed churches and houses.

Although they had bottles of ouzo and anessia, they had no Greek wines however.

But as the evenings close in and the nights become longer than the days, meaning autumn is soon going to show signs of turning to winter, the taste of Greece is going to linger a little longer, and promises and hopes of returning to Crete are kept alive.

Tastes of Greece that help to keep alive autumn hopes of returning next summer (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

A surprising introduction to the music of Chainides in Crete

Chainides (Χαΐνηδες), a Cretan folk music group whose music is inspired by the rich legacy of traditional Cretan music

Patrick Comerford

Barber shops can be the most boring places to sit and wait. The reading is usually confined to the red-top tabloids, television magazines and the sports supplements, and the background sounds are usually either cheap pop or shallow talk radio shows.

However, when I went for a haircut last Friday in the ‘Hair Stories’ shop, next door to Julia Apartments and the Taverna Garden in Platanes, I was delightfully surprised.

The books left behind by previous customers included original Greek novels by writers such as Nikos Kazantzakis, two or three Greek versions of Victoria Hislop’s The Island (Το Νησι), and Greek translations of Mikhail Bulgakov and Paulo Coelho.

The business cards on display included ones for the icon writer Alexandra Kaouki-Melidoni, who has a studio near the Fortezza in Rethymnon. Anyone who appreciates the work of one of the great iconographers in Greece had to have good taste in other areas of the cultural life of Crete.

In the background, I thought I heard the music of Ross Daly, although the tracks were not familiar. As I waited, I asked what I was listening to and to have the sound turned up so I could listen with greater pleasure.

Χαΐνηδες, Το καπηλειό

I was introduced to the music of Chainides (Χαΐνηδες), a folk music group based in Crete whose music is inspired by the rich legacy of traditional Cretan music and whose lyrics often draw on words in the Cretan dialect of Greek.

The name Chainides comes from the word χαΐνης (chainis), meaning a fugitive rebel. The group was formed in March 1990 by five friends – Dimitris Apostolakis, Dimitris Zacharioudakis, Giorgos Laodikis, Miltos Pashalidis and Kallia Spyridaki. At the time, most of them were students at the University of Crete, and their first live performance was in the university canteen.

Chainides released their debut album in 1991

Their first recording came a year later with their debut album Χαΐνηδες (Chainides) in 1991. They were soon joined by two more members and they released three more albums before breaking up for a short time in 1997.

A year later, Dimitris Apostolakis and Dimitris Zaharioudakis brought the group back together and they were joined by four new members – Maria Koti, Alexis Nonis, Periklis Tsoukalas and Antonis Skamnakis. Other members have included Mihalis Nikopoulos and Dimitris Mprentas.

Χαϊνηδες, Το Δρακοδοντι

Over the years, Chainides have collaborated in studios and on stage with Ross Daly and several other well-known musicians and singers. They have performed throughout Greece and abroad, including Luxembourg, Cyprus and America, and they have recorded seven studio albums.

In their live performances, Chainides blend their own compositions and songs with new arrangements of themes and songs from traditions such as those of Turkey, Afghanistan and Bulgaria.

Chainides show that Crete’s musical tradition is alive and not a thing of a bygone age. Their success has paved the way for other young artists to embrace and enrich this tradition. Their instruments include the Cretan lyre acoustic guitar, traditional Cretan percussion instruments, mandolin, bouzouki, flute, double bass and electric bass.

Some of their music is discussed here: Love Song for Greece.

For more, see: this site.

For more on Cretan music visit the site Etsi Ketsi, Music from Crete

Χαϊνηδες, Κοσμος Κι Ονειρο Ειναι Ενα

There was more than one Good Samaritan, but who are today’s Good Samaritans?

The Good Samaritan … the East Window in Saint Anne’s Cathedral, Belfast (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

I have been reminded on two occasions in the past 10 days of the role of Samaritans in the Gospels.

After the ordinations in Saint Anne’s Cathedral, Belfast, last Sunday afternoon [13 Septmber 2015], I spent some time looking at the East Window behind the High Altar. This is the oldest window in the cathedral and depicts the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10: 30-37). This window came from the old Saint Anne’s Church to which it was given in memory of Sir William Johnston, who was Mayor of Belfast in 1849.

The window was bowed to fit the curved chancel wall of the old church. It depicts two scenes: in the lower panel, the Good Samaritan finds the victim of the attack – a broken sword in the bottom right corner suggests the fury of the resistance; in the upper panel, the Samaritan delivers the victim to the innkeeper to be looked after. Scrolls carry quotations from the New Testament story.

This window is immensely detailed and every small area of it deserves close examination. In addition, two side panels depict the Priest and the Levite who would not help the robbed and injured man.

The shocking part of this story is not that the man was attacked on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem – that was a regular and oft-expected hazard on that road.

Nor is it that the Priest and the Levite passed by, for they would have feared that the body on the side of the road was a ruse to lure them into the attack, as well as fearing that contact with a dead body would have made them ritually unclean and unable to fulfil their liturgical obligations in the Temple in Jerusalem.

Perhaps the shocking part of the story is not so much that a Samaritan came to rescue, that he bound up the man’s wounds, or that he brought him to an inn and paid for his overnight accommodation.

I find the most challenging part of the story the fact the Samaritan was willing to return and pay again and again for this man to be cared for. Being a good neighbour is not simply about caring for people, but is about putting our hands deep into our pockets, and being generous to those in need in a way that it costs us.

An icon in Arkadi of Christ with the Samaritan Woman at the Well (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Five days earlier [8 September], I was in Arkadi Monastery, in the mountains above Rethymnon, where I admired an icon I had not seen there before of the Samaritan woman at the Well (John 4: 5-42).

Orthodox tradition names this woman as Saint Photini, who was martyred at the behest of the Emperor Nero. Christ asks her for water, and she accepts Christ as the “living water.” It is an image that is laden with sacramental meaning and significance. It comes shortly after the story of the wedding at Cana, where water is transformed into wine (John 2: 1-11), the first of the signs. Christ who is the living water is the true vine, and is met in bread and wine.

In bringing the people of her town to meet Christ she invites them to the banquet and becomes the first missionary, the first person to proclaim the Gospel of Christ.

The third appearance of a faithful Samaritan in the Gospel is the story of the Samaritan who is the only one of the ten lepers to return to Christ and to give thanks for his healing (Luke 17: 11-19).

It has always struck me as miraculous that a Samaritan should obey Christ’s command to go and show himself to the priests (verse 14). Healed or not, the priests would have still declared him unclean and refused to admit him to a place in polite Jewish society, not because he was a healed leper but because he was an incurable Samaritan.

None of the three Samaritan stories in the Gospels has a satisfying ending.

The lawyer cannot bring himself to name the good neighbour as a Samaritan, but simply refers to him as the “one who showed him mercy” (verse 37), without acknowledging his ethnicity or religion.

Did the Good Samaritan ever return to honour his commitment to return to the bill? Was the victim grateful for his help, or was he shocked and did he feel defiled by the revelation that a Samaritan had touched him?

Doug Adams, in his book The Prostitute in the Family: Discovering Humor and Irony in the Bible, imagines a number of other optional endings. The innkeeper continues to care for the victim, sends bills to the Samaritan, but the bills come back marked “addressee unknown.” Or the victim recovers, and is billed by the innkeeper in an an early example of double billing. Or the victim recovers, and sues the Samaritan for his chronic neck injuries.

If the Samaritan woman at the well was such a successful missionary, why did Philip need to preach the Gospel in Samaria? When the Apostles in Jerusalem hear about this, they send Peter and John to pray for and lay hands on the baptised believers, who then receive the Holy Spirit. They then return to Jerusalem, preaching the Gospel “in many villages of the Samaritans” (see Acts 8: 1–25).

If the Samaritan leper’s faith is so great, why does he remain anonymous, and why does he not feature in the story of the Apostolic Church?

If these three Samaritans, the Good Samaritan, the woman at the well in Sychar, and the healed and faithful leper, are as important as we imagine, why are they not mentioned in Saint Mark’s Gospel?

These questions may be humorous, but perhaps they are idle questions too. Perhaps it might be interesting to ask who are our Samaritans today. I am not referring to the tiny minority in Israel and Palestine described in detail in Gerard Russell's new book, Heirs to Forgotten Kingdoms, which I began reading in Crete last week. But who are Samaritans as far as the Church today is concerned?

The people we marginalise because of their ethnic or religious background? The people we regard as unclean despite their great faith? The people who have socially awkward illnesses and who can never escape the stigma no matter how much healing they receive? The people who live in the wrong town or village. The people, like the woman at the well, who enter marriages or civil unions that we would prefer never to recognise?

In the present refugee crisis I have to ask too about the people who are willing to foot the bill for those who are left by the side of the road while we are too busy with our own ways of life, unwilling to look at what is happening on our own frontiers?

Concern about the present Syrian refugee crisis must be expressed not only in words of sympathy but also find expression in being willing to dig deep deep in our pockets and be willing to pay the bill.

Yet these three Samaritans remain examples of Christians who believe, who live a sacramental life, who put their faith into action through love and service, and who bring others to new life in Christ.

From summer in the Mediterranean to a wet, rainy weekend in Ireland

A walk along the shore at Carlingford Lough on the way back from Belfast to Dublin last night (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

Arriving back in Dublin from Greece in the early hours of Sunday morning [13 September 2015] was a real shock to the system.

The temperatures in Crete all last week were in the high 30s each day, the skies were blue, and I was able to swim in the warm blue waters of the Mediterranean and walk along the long sandy stretch of beach east of Retymnon each day.

But I awoke to a chilly Dublin, and as two of us set off for Belfast late on Sunday morning or early on Sunday afternoon, it was a cold day, and it rained heavily for much of the journey, making driving conditions on the M50 and the M1 quite treacherous.

With an old friend from Lichfield, Dean Pete Wilcox of Liverpool, in Saint Anne’s Cathedral, Belfast

I was in Saint Anne’s Cathedral, Belfast, for the ordination of four students as deacon. It is not possible in this ordination season to get to all the ordinations, but happily many of the other students whose ordinations I have been missing were there too.

There was a warm welcome from both Bishop Alan Abernethy of Connor and Dean John Mann of Belfast, and I was asked to read the Epistle reading (Romans 12: 1-12).

It was a pleasure too to find that the preacher was an old friend, the Very Revd Pete Wilcox, who is Dean of Liverpool Cathedral. He and his wife Catherine Fox have has been good friends since he was the Chancellor of Lichfield Cathedral and they lived in the Cathedral Close in Lichfield.

Sheep hung out to dry … clever street art in Carlingford, Co Louth (Photographs: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

On the road back from Belfast, the rain had eased off and the fields of the Down and Armagh countryside were arrayed in autumn colours of green and gold.

In Carlingford, Co Louth, two of us stopped for a meal in the Bay Tree. This is a charming mediaeval town, with a number of castles and mediaeval houses and buildings.

Before darkness closed in on Carlingford and before going to eat, I went for a stroll around the harbour, and then through the narrow streets of the town, where some of the vacant buildings are decorated with captivating and amusing paintings.

Later, after dinner, I had another brief walk along the shoreline. It was dark by now, but Carlingford Castle was lit up, and bird calls could still be heard from the waters of Carlingford Lough.

Summer is gone, and I shall have to wait until next year for hopes of Mediterranean summer sun. But hopefully autumn may linger a little and allow some more walks in the countryside and the beaches.

Carlingford Castle lit up last night (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

The sun sets on another holiday in Greece

Sunset on the beach in Platanes last night (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

The sun is setting on another wonderful holiday in Crete. I have spent the past week in Rethymnon, based in Julia Apartments, in Platanes. This was once a small country village on the edges of Rethymnon, but it has grown in recent decades, acquiring all the facilities and amenities of a resort.

In previous years when I have been in Rethymnon, I have stayed in the heart of the old walled Venetian city, but I have been surprised by the benefits of staying in Platanes.

I had walks on the long sandy beach at sunset in the evenings, watching the sun set beyond the Fortezza in Rethymnon, which is 5 km to the west, or I have gone into Rethymnon for strolls around the harbour at sunset.

I have been into the sea at Pavlos beach, swimming each day under blue skies in the blue waters of the Mediterranean, which are still warm at this time of the year.

The gardens at Julia Apartments, with its tall trees and lush growth (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

There has been time for reading on the beach, or on the balcony overlooking the gardens in Julia Apartments, with its tall trees and lush growth.

There have been walks in the countryside, climbs into the mountains to visit Venetian villages, and time for prayer too, visiting the Monastery of Arkadi, which is just 17 km from Platanes, visiting the Cathedral and the Church of the Four Martyrs in Rethymnon and visiting the old churches of Maroulas.

But it has also been deeply spiritual to see at first hand the work of the Voluntary Welfare Clinic Rethymno from a storefront crèche in Kastrinogiannaki Street, providing medical care and help for people who have no medical insurance, whether they are Greeks, refugees or migrants.

There have been breakfasts on the balcony, with fresh fruit – especially the figs – and bread bought in the local supermarkets and the bakery downstairs, there have been wonderful meals in the local restaurants and tavernas, there has been time to stop and sip Greek coffees and double espressos in the cafés, and there was a wonderful dinner with a friend who went out of her way, laden with presents, all the way from Iraklion, to join us for dinner in the gardens at Julia Apartments.

I even had my haircut in the local hairdressers next door.

Evening closes in on Platanes (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Platanes took me by surprise. I had expected a more brazen sort of resort, but in many ways it still retains the feel of a local village, and I found traditional Greek hospitality and interest in the visitor is found unfeignedly everywhere I went.

The square in the centre of the village is more a junction than a traditional Greek village square, but on all sides there are cafés with people sitting out watching life passing by on what was once the main road along the northern coast of Crete.

I noticed no late-night seedy nightclubs – they may be here, but I never noticed them, and I was not out of place for my age or generation. This is not a “young and lively” holiday destination, at least at this time of the year.

There is a Lidl supermarket behind Julia Apartments, just after the road under the new highway that runs between Rethymnon and Iraklion. I wondered whether they run Greek weeks, as they do in Ireland. No, perhaps they run Irish weeks.

The bells on the church of Aghios Nektarios in Tsesmes this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

As I strolled further up the hill late this morning, I was soon in the neighbouring village of Tsesmes, which I had passed through yesterday on my way to the hill-top Venetian village of Maroulas. In Tsesmes, there are grapes on the vines, olives waiting to be harvested on the trees, and gardens filled with trees and flowers or even some goats.

Here there is a village square where life must gather at other times but a sleepy Saturday at mid-day. There are village tavernas and cafés, side streets that lead on into hidden houses, and a village church that I had failed to find last Sunday morning despite eager searching.

The side streets in Tsesmes lead into rustic scenes and memories of village life (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

After an early afternoon coffee in Tsesmes, it was a few minutes back down to Platanes for a last walk on the beach, a late lunch in Vergina, and a farewell coffee at Julia Apartments.

I have never believed in the “trickle-down economy” that Thatcher and Reagan pretended would bring prosperity to everyone – after the rich got richer. But spending money locally, in locally-owned shops, supermarkets and businesses keeps money going around in this small Greek town at a time when Greek businesses are finding it difficult to keep going. And putting money into the economy means more local people are employed and more local produce is sold.

Figs on sale in a local supermarket in Platanes (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

I am told that the real blow to tourism in this part of Greece has come not from foreigners worried about the political climate in Greece but from many so Greeks not able to spend money on holidays this year. But foreign tourism boosts the balance of payments and contributes immensely to the Greek economy and to Greek employment figures.

Who knows what the future holds for Greece? It would have been difficult for most tourists to know that there is a crucial election here in just over a week’s time [20 September 2015], and it would have been impossible for them to know about the refugee crisis on other Greek islands, such as Lesvos, Kos and Rhodes.

Undoubtedly, there are difficult times ahead for everyone in Greece, no matter what results the election produces.

The bus is waiting outside to take me to Chania Airport and my Ryanair flight back to Dublin. But I hope to be back again next year.

Grapes on the vine between a taverna in Tsesmes and a house that is up for sale (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

A journey in time to the Venetian mountain-top village of Maroulas

Wandering through the narrow streets and alleyways of Maroulas (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

I spent Friday morning [11 September 2015] picking my way through the Venetian towers, renaissance ruins, narrow streets and alleys and the churches and chapels of the once-fortified hilltop town of Maroulas (Μαρουλάς).

This quiet, mountainside village in the olive groves above Platanes and Rethymon, is 10 km south-east of Rethymnon, at a height of 240 meters (800 feet). Although it is only 5 km from Platanes, it took half an hour to get there along the twisting, corkscrew road that winds its way up by the mountain valleys and gorges and through some of the oldest olive groves in Greece.

Perched on a lofty position facing down onto the sea, Maroulas is like a time capsule, with ancient tombstones dating back to antiquity, a Byzantine church, two Venetian towers, mediaeval and renaissance houses, old olive oil presses, narrow streets and alleyways, and a hidden church with a double nave that is partly built into a cave.

The Venetians built several tower houses throughout Maroulas (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Although most of the buildings that attract visitors to Maroulas date back to the Venetian period, the discovery of arched burial chambers has led archaeologists to suggest that the area may have been inhabited since the Minoan period. Two cemeteries of the palatial period of Minoan period have been found in the area. The findings are on display in the Archaeological Museum of Rethymnon.

It is said the village was originally named Amygdalea and that at one point it was completely destroyed by a flood or an earthquake.

According to tradition, Maroulas takes its name from the shepherdess Maroula, a name derived from Maria. While she was grazing her sheep, she found a spring of cool drinking water. This natural spring water fountain at Vryssi was the main water source of the village, supplemented by rainwater collected in tanks. Although the water at the fountain is no longer drinkable, this is a quiet, shaded place to rest under a spreading plane tree.

The settlement was probably founded as a fortified town in the second Byzantine period, and continued to prosper after the Venetian invasions, when the houses in Maroulas became second homes in the cool mountains for the nobility of Rethymnon.

The Venetians built towers with battlements, tower houses and several mansions that display Venetian coats of arms on the arches and doors.

There are seven or eight churches scattered through Maroulas (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

There are seven or eight churches scattered through the village and in the surrounding hillsides, and I visited at least four of them.

The main parish church was being repainted inside. The smaller church next door has Byzantine fragments. The tiny chapel in the centre of the village was locked and closed.

The interconnecting twin churches of Aghios Nikolaos and Aghios Antonios, with a mediaeval sarcophagus in the churchyard (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

A double nave church built into the rocky hillside that almost formed a cave was in fact two inter-connecting 14th century churches, one dedicated to Aghios Nikolaos (Saint Nicholas) and the other to Aghios Antonios (Saint Anthony), with a mediaeval sculpted sarcophagus in the churchyard.

At one time, there were three towers in Maroulas. The first was probably built in the Byzantine period but has since collapsed.

The second tower dates from the Venetian period, and stands by the cobbled street leading down to the fountain at Vryssi.

The tallest Venetian tower has become a symbol of Maroulas (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

The third tower is seen as the emblem of the village. This imposing tower was recently renovated. It is 14 metres high and has three floors. It was built sometime in the 15th and 16th centuries and served as an observation point and as well as the home of a Venetian noble.

Using fire and smoke, the watchmen on the tower could communicate with the fortress at the Fortezza in Rethymno. The tower had holes from which the guards could spill burning oil or tar on their enemies below.

Later Venetian buildings were inspired by the works of the Venetian engineer Francesco Barozzi. They date from ca 1577, and have become known for their aesthetic and artistic features.

After the Turkish invasion, Maroulas became the country seat of Turkish officials who valued its strategic position and wealthy soil.

During the Ottoman period, the main tower was used as an army base. Later, the Turks build using architectural elements from Anatolia such as chimneys, wells and hamams or fountains.

The main tower provides views across the countryside from Rethymnon to Iraklion (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Metochi, a massive complex west of the settlement has traces of Renaissance and Islamic architecture, including a Turkish hamam or bath.

After the disastrous war between Greece and Turkey in the 1920s, the main tower was used to house Greek refugees from Asia Minor.

In the inter-war years, the 17th century Despotiko or residence in the north-east of the tower became the summer residence of the Bishop of Rethymnon. However, the main tower was abandoned during World War II, and at the same time Metochi was partly destroyed during a Nazi bombardment in May 1941.

Maroulas suffered because of large migration in the 1980s, when young people left for the cities, leaving only the elderly behind.

New hope came when Maroulas was listed for its historical monuments and houses in 1985. The main tower was renovated and restored by the Municipality of Rethymnon in the mid-1990s, and in 1997 it was bought for the local community.

Further restoration work was carried out in 2007-2013 under an EU-funded scheme to restore specific buildings of historical interest in both Greece and Cyprus.

Maroulas is coming back to life with almost 200 residents today, and many of the old houses are being restored by families who have moved there to live permanently.

The village attracts many painters and photographers who find many themes here with the narrow alleys, old doors, door knobs and stone mosaics. Today, Maroulas is a maze of narrow streets and alleyways, with a few inviting tavernas and cafés. We lingered a little longer in the early afternoon sunshine in Milopetra Café, sipping a frappe and a double espresso.

On the way back down the winding twisting road to the coastline, we were pointed to an olive tree that is said to be over 200 years old. Our journey in time came to an end back in the busy resort town of Platanes.

An olive tree said to be over 200 years old in the olive groves below Maroulas (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)