Showing posts with label Zion Church. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zion Church. Show all posts

15 November 2015

‘When you hear of wars and rumours of wars …
this is but the beginning of the birth pangs’

A typical scene in the European refugee crisis: refugees and migrants in the Mediterranean being rescued by Irish Naval personnel from the ship LÉ Eithne (Photograph: Irish Defence Forces/Anglican Communion News Service/Us)

Patrick Comerford,

Zion Church, Rathgar, Dublin,

Sunday 15 November 2015,

The Second Sunday before Advent

10.30 a.m.,
Morning Prayer 2.

Readings: Daniel 12: 1-3; Psalm 16; Mark 13: 1-8.

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

Winter has arrived, the evenings are closing in, the nights are getting longer, and the year is coming to an end.

The church seasons are changing too. Advent, which marks a New Year in the Church, begins the Sunday after next [29 November 2015]. Carol services are being planned, Christmas gifts are being wrapped, Christmas cards are being written, and for many places the last posting date for Christmas [4 December 2015] is looming.

In the midst of darkness, there is always hope.

But in the darkness it is also natural that we should think of our greatest fears.

In our Gospel reading this morning, Peter, Andrew, James and John are with Christ on the Mount of Olives, looking across to Jerusalem and the Temple.

But Christ’s entry into Jerusalem is not going to be triumphant, and he warns these four disciples – these four who act almost like Christ’s ‘kitchen cabinet’ in the Gospels – that the future is not going to be all plain sailing.

He talks about false teachers, wars and rumours of wars, nations fighting against nation, earthquakes, famines and natural disasters.

All of us have been shocked by the violence in Paris in the past 36 hours. The attacks in Paris and a few days earlier in Beirut were designed to shake the very foundations of all our societies. They are an assault on our shared humanity, and our tolerance, liberty and respect – the values that ought to underpin the world we share.

In the past week, many of us have been remembering the wars in the last 100 years that threatened not once but twice to destroy Europe. We are still in the middle of the centenary marking World War I, and this year has marked the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II. And we remembered those who fought in both wars and who were promised that these were “wars to end all wars.”

Yet the Anglican suffragan Bishop in Europe, Bishop David Hamid, has said in the past week that the refugee crisis in Europe is the “largest crisis that Europe has had to face since World War II.” He warns that churches, governments and aid and mission agencies need to prepare for a “medium- to long-term situation” to a crisis that is “not going to go away quickly.”

I spent three days in the past week [11-13 November 2015] at a meeting of the Trustees of Us, the Anglican mission agency previously known as USPG or the United Society for the Propagation of the Gospel.

It was a residential meeting in Westcott House, the Anglican theological college in Cambridge. And during those days I heard again and again of the work Us or USPG is doing with refugees throughout Europe.

The UN High Commissioner for Refugees says that so far this year over three quarters of a million refugees and migrants have arrived by boat in Europe. Most of them – around 620,000 – have arrived in Greece; while Italy has received over 140,000 people, Spain almost 3,000 people and Malta over 100.

The UNHCR also says almost 3,500 people have died or gone missing on the journey. Over half the migrants trying to reach Europe come from the Syria, and another one-in-five is from Afghanistan.

“The numbers of people on the move have not been seen for over 70 years,” Bishop David says. This problem is not going to go away soon, he says. “The end won’t be in sight, really, until we resolve the wars and people are able to live in security.”

Even if the wars stop tomorrow, four million Syrian people are living outside Syria and half the remaining people are displaced too, having left their homes, their villages and their towns. Rebuilding the region is a long-term task, and even if the wars ended tomorrow they cannot go home on Tuesday.

Bishop David says the challenge to Churches, governments and agencies in Europe is to work together on short-term responses, and medium to long-term situation.

When people began to appear in the parks and squares in central Athens having come from the ferry boats from the islands, the churches in Athens responded immediately.

Saint Paul’s Anglican Church and the other churches saw the need to co-ordinate their response and have drawn on their own limited resources to reach out together. This response has brought together Anglicans, the Greek Orthodox archdiocese, the Roman Catholic Jesuit refugee service, the Salvation Army, and the Greek Evangelical Church. This is on-the-ground ecumenism in action. Years and years of dialogue are now bearing fruit.

But Bishop David is worried that the rest of Europe fails to see that these people are human beings who deserve basic humanitarian assistance while their status is sorted out.

Christians and churches have a role to play in ensuring the truth of the refugee crisis is told without exaggeration. Bishop David says: “There is often exaggeration in some of the secular media. Sometimes this plays into people’s fear about the foreigner, fears of Islam, and all sorts of fears. I think we need to be clear, as Christians around the world, in making sure the truth is being told about this: that people are fleeing war zones, are fleeing persecution and are needing protection.”

Meanwhile, winter is closing in and threatens to make the sea-crossings even more treacherous for people fleeing war, persecution, and poverty. On one day alone in the past week or two, 22 people drowned in two shipwrecks in the Aegean Sea. On another day, the Greek coastguard rescued 242 refugees whose wooden boat sank north of the island of Lesvos. At least three people drowned, including two small boys.

‘The waves of the Aegean are not just washing up dead refugees, dead children, but [also] the very civilisation of Europe,’ says the Greek Prime Minister (Photograph: Antonio Bronic/Reuters)

Lifeless bodies are washing up on Greek and Turkish shores, including three-year-old Aylan Kurdi, whose death prompted global outrage. The Greek Prime Minister, Alexis Tsipras, says: “The waves of the Aegean are not just washing up dead refugees, dead children, but [also] the very civilisation of Europe.”

The number of refugees arriving in Greece from Turkey has risen in risen week from 4,500 to 7,000 a day. More than 218,000 migrants and refugees arrived in Europe by sea last month [October 2015] – a record for any month and about the same number as the total number who arrived in 2014.

The UNHCR is warning that harsh winter conditions across Europe could lead to “a tragedy at any moment.”

Kate O’Sullivan, who works in Greece with Save the Children, says the winter months could be devastating. “The waves will continue to get higher, the water will get rougher,” she says. “Every time a boat goes down, it always seems to be the children who have drowned. Frankly, I am terrified for what the weather’s going to be like this winter.”

Freezing temperatures, heavy rains, and strong storms have not slowed down the surge of refugees (Photograph: Yannis Behrakis/Reuters)

But freezing temperatures, heavy rains, and strong storms across Europe have not slowed down the surge of refugees. These people were desperate before they ever left. They are desperate now. And they face a winter with little protection from the cold, with no weather-proofing kits, with damaged tents, without winter clothes. They need fuel, unconditional cash, kits, clothes, coal, stoves and blankets.

“The immediate imperative is to provide shelter. It cannot be that in the Europe of 2015 people are left to fend for themselves, sleeping in fields,” Jean-Claude Juncker, the president of the European Commission, says. “Every day counts,” he adds. “Otherwise we will soon see families in cold rivers in the Balkans perish miserably.”

Us has produced prayer cards providing guided reflections for each Sunday during Advent, inviting people to pray for refugees around the world as we light our Advent candles.

An example of the way the Church is responding to this crisis is the decision by the Anglican Diocese in Europe and the Anglican mission agency Us (formerly USPG) to fund an emergency centre for refugees at the remote Pharos Lighthouse on the Greek island of Lesvos.

The refugees arrive cold and wet having crossed 15 km from Turkey, typically making the journey in small rubber boats crowded with up to 50 people each.

Often these dangerous crossings are at night to avoid the Turkish coastguard patrols by day. Attracted by the beam of the lighthouse, they land on the rocky shore, soaked through, tired and hungry. Yet they are still 6 km from the nearest village, Klio, a six-hour walk across rugged, rock-strewn terrain. They need dry clothes, food, medical care and shelter before they can continue their journey to safety.

Local volunteers have been doing what they can to help them. I heard over these past few days how their work is getting a further boost with funding from Us and support from the Anglican chaplaincy in Greece.

Two abandoned buildings next to the lighthouse are being turned into a changing area and a field kitchen. Tents are being provided as shelter and volunteers are working there around the clock, seven days a week, providing food, clothing and medicines. These volunteers have also asked for ropes to help refugees climb up the rocky shores, safety helmets and headgear for the children and babies, wetsuits, night vision binoculars, heaters, lighting and walky-talkies.

Rachel Parry, Us Director for Global Relations, describes this as just one “small but highly significant response that is benefitting hundreds of very vulnerable refugees at a critical stage of their journey.”

The light of the lighthouse on Lesvos can lead the fleeing refugees to either a perilous end on the rocky shore or to hope for the future provided by these volunteers.

I listened to those stories in Cambridge over the past few days, those stories of Us and how the Diocese in Europe are trying to be lights of hope in this dismal, dark winter.

There is a real danger that because of the violence this weekend, the very people who are fleeing the violence of ISIS in Syria and their allies in the Middle East, will become their victims yet again, being blamed for violence perpetrated by people who are their very oppressors.

But despite all that is happening, there is hope. And we can be beacons of hope. We can show in how we live our life this coming Advent that we believe, that we want, good to triumph over evil, and to show that the Light of Christ shines in our hearts.

Throughout Advent this year, Us is appealing for donations to fund the Diocese in Europe as it reaches out to refugees arriving throughout Europe, and the Diocese in Europe has asked Us to be the official agency for Anglican churches on these islands to channel donations for its work.

The Advent candles on the Advent wreath represent the Patriarchs, the Prophets, John the Baptist, and the Virgin Mary, all pointing to Christ in the midst of darkness, despite the disasters of famines, earthquakes and wars.

Despite all this, there is hope. And we can be beacons of hope. We can show in how we live our life this coming Advent that we believe, that we want, good to triumph over evil, and to show that the Light of Christ shines in our hearts.

And so may all we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and 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 Morning Prayer in Zion Parish Church, Rathgar, on 15 November 2015.

Where can the refugees find the lights of hope across Europe this winter? (Photograph: Picasa/Kate O'Sullivan/Save the Children)

Collect:

Heavenly Father,
whose blessed Son was revealed to destroy the works of the devil
and to make us the children of God and heirs of eternal life:
Grant that we, having this hope,
may purify ourselves even as he is pure;
that when he shall appear in power and great glory,
we may be made like him
in his eternal and glorious kingdom;
where he is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Post Communion Prayer:

Gracious Lord,
in this holy sacrament you give substance to our hope.
Bring us at the last to that pure life for which we long,
through Jesus Christ our Saviour.

Mark 13: 1-8

1 Καὶ ἐκπορευομένου αὐτοῦ ἐκ τοῦ ἱεροῦ λέγει αὐτῷ εἷς τῶν μαθητῶν αὐτοῦ, Διδάσκαλε, ἴδε ποταποὶ λίθοι καὶ ποταπαὶ οἰκοδομαί. 2 καὶ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτῷ, Βλέπεις ταύτας τὰς μεγάλας οἰκοδομάς; οὐ μὴ ἀφεθῇ ὧδε λίθος ἐπὶ λίθον ὃς οὐ μὴ καταλυθῇ.

3 Καὶ καθημένου αὐτοῦ εἰς τὸ Ὄρος τῶν Ἐλαιῶν κατέναντι τοῦ ἱεροῦ ἐπηρώτα αὐτὸν κατ' ἰδίαν Πέτρος καὶ Ἰάκωβος καὶ Ἰωάννης καὶ Ἀνδρέας, 4 Εἰπὸν ἡμῖν πότε ταῦτα ἔσται, καὶ τί τὸ σημεῖον ὅταν μέλλῃ ταῦτα συντελεῖσθαι πάντα. 5 ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς ἤρξατο λέγειν αὐτοῖς, Βλέπετε μή τις ὑμᾶς πλανήσῃ: 6 πολλοὶ ἐλεύσονται ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματί μου λέγοντες ὅτι Ἐγώ εἰμι, καὶ πολλοὺς πλανήσουσιν. 7 ὅταν δὲ ἀκούσητε πολέμους καὶ ἀκοὰς πολέμων, μὴ θροεῖσθε: δεῖ γενέσθαι, ἀλλ' οὔπω τὸ τέλος. 8 ἐγερθήσεται γὰρ ἔθνος ἐπ' ἔθνος καὶ βασιλεία ἐπὶ βασιλείαν, ἔσονται σεισμοὶ κατὰ τόπους, ἔσονται λιμοί: ἀρχὴ ὠδίνων ταῦτα.

1 As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!’ 2 Then Jesus asked him, ‘Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.’

3 When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, 4 ‘Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?’ 5 Then Jesus began to say to them, ‘Beware that no one leads you astray. 6 Many will come in my name and say, “I am he!” and they will lead many astray. 7 When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. 8 For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.

‘Not one stone will be left here upon
another; all will be thrown down’

Us has produced prayer cards providing guided reflections for each Sunday during Advent, inviting people to pray for refugees around the world as we light our Advent candles.

Patrick Comerford,

Zion Church, Rathgar, Dublin,

Sunday 15 November 2015,

The Second Sunday before Advent

9 a.m.,
Holy Communion 1.

Readings: Daniel 12: 1-3; Psalm 16; (Hebrews 10: 11-14, 15-18, 19-25;) Mark 13: 1-8.

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

I know it is not traditional to have a sermon at this early morning Eucharist. But this morning’s Gospel can appear so gloomy, with its talk of wars and rumours of wars, earthquakes and famines, that I thought I should light a light in the darkness and share some of the thoughts that are shaping my sermon at Morning Prayer later this morning.

Winter has arrived, the evenings are closing in, the nights are getting longer, and the year is coming to an end.

The church seasons are changing too. Advent, which marks a New Year in the Church, begins the Sunday after next [29 November 2015]. Carol services are being planned, Christmas gifts are being wrapped, Christmas cards are being written, and for many places next Friday [4 December 2015] is the last posting date for Christmas.

In the midst of darkness, there is always hope.

But in the darkness it is also natural that we should think of our greatest fears.

All of us have been shocked by the violence in Paris in the past 36 hours. The attacks in Paris and a few days earlier in Beirut were designed to shake the very foundations of all our societies. They are an assault on our shared humanity, and our tolerance, liberty and respect – the values that ought to underpin the world we share.

In the past week, many of us have been remembering the wars in the last 100 years that threatened not once but twice to destroy Europe. We are still in the middle of the centenary marking World War I, and this year has marked the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II. And we remembered those who fought in both wars and who were promised that these were “wars to end all wars.”

Yet the Anglican suffragan Bishop in Europe, Bishop David Hamid, has said in the past week that the refugee crisis in Europe is the “largest crisis that Europe has had to face since World War II.” He warns that churches, governments and aid and mission agencies need to prepare for a “medium- to long-term situation” to a crisis that is “not going to go away quickly.”

I spent three days in the past week [11-13 November 2015] at a meeting of the trustees of Us, the Anglican mission agency previously known as USPG or the United Society for the Propagation of the Gospel.

It was a residential meeting in Westcott House, the Anglican theological college in Cambridge. And during those days I heard again and again of the work Us or USPG is doing with refugees throughout Europe.

The UN High Commissioner for Refugees says that so far this year over three quarters of a million refugees and migrants have arrived by boat in Europe. Most of them – around 620,000 – have arrived in Greece; while Italy has received over 140,000 people, Spain almost 3,000 people and Malta over 100.

The UNHCR also says almost 3,500 people have died or gone missing on the journey. Over half the migrants trying to reach Europe come from the Syria, and another one-in-five is from Afghanistan.

“The numbers of people on the move have not been seen for over 70 years,” Bishop David says. This problem is not going to go away soon, he says. “The end won’t be in sight, really, until we resolve the wars and people are able to live in security.”

Even if the wars stop tomorrow, four million Syrian people are living outside Syria and half the remaining people are displaced too, having left their homes, their villages and their towns. Rebuilding the region is a long-term task, and even if the wars ended tomorrow they cannot go home on Tuesday.

Bishop David says the challenge to Churches, governments and agencies in Europe is to work together on short-term responses, and medium to long-term situation.

The UNHCR is warning that harsh winter conditions across Europe could lead to “a tragedy at any moment.”

Kate O’Sullivan, who works in Greece with Save the Children, says the winter months could be devastating. “The waves will continue to get higher, the water will get rougher,” she says. “Every time a boat goes down, it always seems to be the children who have drowned. Frankly, I am terrified for what the weather’s going to be like this winter.”

Freezing temperatures, heavy rains, and strong storms have not slowed down the surge of refugees (Photograph: Yannis Behrakis/Reuters)

But freezing temperatures, heavy rains, and strong storms across Europe have not slowed down the surge of refugees. These people were desperate before they ever left. They are desperate now. And they face a winter with little protection from the cold, with no weather-proofing kits, with damaged tents, without winter clothes. They need fuel, unconditional cash, kits, clothes, coal, stoves and blankets.

An example of the way the Church is responding to this crisis is the decision by the Anglican Diocese in Europe and the Anglican mission agency Us (formerly USPG) to fund an emergency centre for refugees at the remote Pharos Lighthouse on the Greek island of Lesvos.

The refugees arrive cold and wet having crossed 15 km from Turkey, typically making the journey in small rubber boats crowded with up to 50 people each.

Often these dangerous crossings are at night to avoid the Turkish coastguard patrols by day. Attracted by the beam of the lighthouse, they land on the rocky shore, soaked through, tired and hungry. Yet they are still 6 km from the nearest village, Klio, a six-hour walk across rugged, rock-strewn terrain. They need dry clothes, food, medical care and shelter before they can continue their journey to safety.

Local volunteers have been doing what they can to help them. I heard over these past few days how their work is getting a further boost with funding from Us and support from the Anglican chaplaincy in Greece.

Two abandoned buildings next to the lighthouse are being turned into a changing area and a field kitchen. Tents are being provided as shelter and volunteers are working there around the clock, seven days a week, providing food, clothing and medicines. These volunteers have also asked for ropes to help refugees climb up the rocky shores, safety helmets and headgear for the children and babies, wetsuits, night vision binoculars, heaters, lighting and walky-talkies.

I listened to those stories in Cambridge over the past few days, those stories of Us and how the Diocese in Europe are trying to be lights of hope in this dismal, dark winter.

Throughout Advent this year, Us is appealing for donations to fund the Diocese in Europe as it reaches out to refugees arriving throughout Europe, and the Diocese in Europe has asked Us to be the official agency for Anglican churches on these islands to channel donations for its work.

There is a real danger that because of the violence this weekend, the very people who are fleeing the violence of ISIS in Syria and their allies in the Middle East, will become their victims yet again, being blamed for violence perpetrated by people who are their very oppressors.

But despite all that is happening, there is hope. And we can be beacons of hope. We can show in how we live our life this coming Advent that we believe, that we want, good to triumph over evil, and to show that the Light of Christ shines in our hearts.

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

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford lectures in the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. This reflection was shared at the Eucharist in Zion Parish Church, Rathgar, on 15 November 2015.

Where can the refugees find the lights of hop of hope across Europe this winter? (Photograph: Picasa/Kate O'Sullivan/Save the Children)

Collect:

Heavenly Father,
whose blessed Son was revealed to destroy the works of the devil
and to make us the children of God and heirs of eternal life:
Grant that we, having this hope,
may purify ourselves even as he is pure;
that when he shall appear in power and great glory,
we may be made like him
in his eternal and glorious kingdom;
where he is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Post Communion Prayer:

Gracious Lord,
in this holy sacrament you give substance to our hope.
Bring us at the last to that pure life for which we long,
through Jesus Christ our Saviour.

Mark 13: 1-8

1 Καὶ ἐκπορευομένου αὐτοῦ ἐκ τοῦ ἱεροῦ λέγει αὐτῷ εἷς τῶν μαθητῶν αὐτοῦ, Διδάσκαλε, ἴδε ποταποὶ λίθοι καὶ ποταπαὶ οἰκοδομαί. 2 καὶ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτῷ, Βλέπεις ταύτας τὰς μεγάλας οἰκοδομάς; οὐ μὴ ἀφεθῇ ὧδε λίθος ἐπὶ λίθον ὃς οὐ μὴ καταλυθῇ.

3 Καὶ καθημένου αὐτοῦ εἰς τὸ Ὄρος τῶν Ἐλαιῶν κατέναντι τοῦ ἱεροῦ ἐπηρώτα αὐτὸν κατ' ἰδίαν Πέτρος καὶ Ἰάκωβος καὶ Ἰωάννης καὶ Ἀνδρέας, 4 Εἰπὸν ἡμῖν πότε ταῦτα ἔσται, καὶ τί τὸ σημεῖον ὅταν μέλλῃ ταῦτα συντελεῖσθαι πάντα. 5 ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς ἤρξατο λέγειν αὐτοῖς, Βλέπετε μή τις ὑμᾶς πλανήσῃ: 6 πολλοὶ ἐλεύσονται ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματί μου λέγοντες ὅτι Ἐγώ εἰμι, καὶ πολλοὺς πλανήσουσιν. 7 ὅταν δὲ ἀκούσητε πολέμους καὶ ἀκοὰς πολέμων, μὴ θροεῖσθε: δεῖ γενέσθαι, ἀλλ' οὔπω τὸ τέλος. 8 ἐγερθήσεται γὰρ ἔθνος ἐπ' ἔθνος καὶ βασιλεία ἐπὶ βασιλείαν, ἔσονται σεισμοὶ κατὰ τόπους, ἔσονται λιμοί: ἀρχὴ ὠδίνων ταῦτα.

1 As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!’ 2 Then Jesus asked him, ‘Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.’

3 When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, 4 ‘Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?’ 5 Then Jesus began to say to them, ‘Beware that no one leads you astray. 6 Many will come in my name and say, “I am he!” and they will lead many astray. 7 When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. 8 For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.

16 August 2015

‘Look for Jesus in the ragged, in the naked, in
the oppressed …, in those who have lost hope’

‘I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh’ (John 6: 51) … bread in the window of Hindley’s Bakery in Tamworth Street, Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

Zion Church, Rathgar, Dublin 6,

Sunday 16 August 2015,

The Eleventh Sunday after Trinity

10.30 a.m., Matins.

Readings:
I Kings 2: 10-12, 3: 3-14, Psalm 111; Ephesians 5: 15-20; John 6: 51-58.

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

Our Gospel reading this morning develops one of the great “I AM” sayings in Saint John’s Gospel, the first of these seven sayings, which we heard last Sunday.

In last Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus said to the multitude: “I am the bread of life” (John 6: 35). And he emphasised it, not once but twice last Sunday, when he said: “I am the bread that came down from heaven” (verse 41) and again “I am the bread of life” (verse 48).

He develops that theme this morning when he says: “I am the living bread” (verse 51).

These are emphatic declarations. In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus says “I am” 45 times. But he uses this particular way of saying I am 24 times. He says “I AM,” ἐγώ εἰμί (ego eimi), explicitly including the Greek pronoun “I” (ἐγώ ego) which is not necessary in Greek grammar at the time.

Why? What is Jesus saying?

I don’t mean to be obscure about the finer points of Greek and Greek grammar. But it is a point that was immediately obvious to the first readers of Saint John’s Gospel.

In the Hebrew Bible, the meaning of God’s name is closely related to the emphatic statement “I AM” (see Exodus 3: 14; 6: 2; Deuteronomy 32: 39; Isaiah 43: 25; 48: 12; 51: 12; etc.). In the Greek translation, the Septuagint, most of these passages are translated with as “I AM,” ἐγώ εἰμί.

The “I AM” of the Old Testament and the “I AM” of Saint John’s Gospel is the God who creates us, who communicates with us, who gives himself to us.

But it is worth asking ourselves this morning, what does it mean to acknowledge Christ as “the bread of life”?

I was at a wedding last weekend, which was celebrated within the context of the Eucharist or the Holy Communion.

In his sermon, the priest compared God’s self-giving to us in Christ’s body as an expression of God’s deepest love for us with the way in which a couple getting married give themselves bodily to each other … the most intimate loving action to be shown to each other

Of course, for the love of God and the love of one another are inseparable

I spent some time in Cappadocia, in south-central Turkey, earlier this year. I was there because of my interest in sites associated with the three Cappadocian Fathers.

These were three key Patristic writers and saints: Saint Basil the Great (329-379), Bishop of Caesarea, his brother Saint Gregory (335-395), Bishop of Nyssa, and Saint Gregory Nazianzus (329-390), who became Patriarch of Constantinople.

They challenged heresies such as Arianism and their thinking was instrumental in formulating the phrases that shaped the Nicene Creed.

But their thinking was not about doctrine alone. It was also about living the Christian life.

So, for example, Saint Basil is also remembered for his challenging social values. He wrote: “The bread which you do not use is the bread of the hungry; the garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of him who is naked; the shoes that you do not wear are the shoes of the one who is barefoot; the money that you keep locked away is the money of the poor; the acts of charity that you do not perform are so many injustices that you commit.”

Sacramental practice must be related to the practice of Christianity, and doctrine and belief must be related to how we live our lives as Christians.

Frank Weston (1871-1924), who was the Bishop of Zanzibar from 1908, held together in a creative combination his incarnational and sacramental theology with his radical social concerns formed the keynote of his address to the Anglo-Catholic Congress in 1923. He believed that the sacramental focus gave a reality to Christ’s presence and power that nothing else could. “The one thing England needs to learn is that Christ is in and amid matter, God in flesh, God in sacrament.”

And so he concluded: “But I say to you, and I say it with all the earnestness that I have, if you are prepared to fight for the right of adoring Jesus in His Blessed Sacrament, then, when you come out from before your tabernacles, you must walk with Christ, mystically present in you through the streets of this country, and find the same Christ in the peoples of your cities and villages. You cannot claim to worship Jesus in the tabernacle, if you do not pity Jesus in the slums … It is folly – it is madness – to suppose that you can worship Jesus in the Sacraments and Jesus on the throne of glory, when you are sweating him in the souls and bodies of his children.”

In recent days the Anglican priest and Guardian columnist Giles Fraser has visited the migrant camps in Calais and worshipped with them in the makeshift chapel served by Eritrean priests.

His visit stirred controversy in the red-top tabloids in England. There was speculation in the Daily Mail, the Daily Express and other papers that the BBC was going to film Songs of Praise in Calais, which caused panic about public money, the licence fees, being used to tell the migrants’ stories.

Giles Fraser has replied to his tabloid critics in recent days, saying: “The right-wing press keeps banging on about this being a Christian nation. But they hate it when it behaves like one.”

The public consternation in Britain has not been calmed by politicians deploying words like “swarm” and “marauding.” The language has been alarmist and increasingly racist, to the point that the Sun columnist Katie Hopkins descended to using the language of the Third Reich when she wrote about migrants as “cockroaches.”

Despite panic about the “swarms” of migrants supposedly trying to reach British shores from Calais, only four per cent of Europe’s asylum seekers are applying to stay in the UK.

In telling contrast, a report in the Guardian showed that unemployed Britons in Europe are drawing much more in benefits and allowances in the wealthier EU member states than their nationals are claiming in Britain, despite British government arguments about migrants flocking in to secure better welfare payments.

At least 30,000 British nationals are claiming unemployment benefit in countries around the EU, the Guardian reported last Monday. Four times as many Britons claim unemployment benefits in Germany as Germans do in Britain, and the number of unemployed Britons receiving benefits in Ireland exceeds their Irish counterparts in the UK by a rate of five to one.

This debate in Britain was in sharp contrast to the humanitarian work of the Irish naval vessels on the high seas, saving hundreds if not thousands of lives in the Mediterranean waters between Italy and North Africa.

The crews of those naval vessels are hallowed expressions of public values in this society … and a practical expression of Christian values in public action.

I have stayed in Saint Matthew’s Vicarage in Westminster where Frank Weston is said to have written that speech just a year before he died. He told people at the congress: “Go out and look for Jesus in the ragged, in the naked, in the oppressed and sweated, in those who have lost hope, in those who are struggling to make good. Look for Jesus. And when you see him, gird yourselves with his towel and try to wash their feet.”

So sacramental life is meaningless unless it is lived out in our care for those who are hungry, suffering and marginalised.

If there are three points that I would like to draw from this morning’s Gospel reading, they are:

1, God gives to us in Christ, and in the Sacrament, so too we must give lovingly.

2, Doctrine and belief must be related to discipleship, indeed they are meaningless unless they are reflected in how we live our lives.

3, Our sacramental practice must always be related to how we live our lives every day so that we make Christ’s love visible.

To summarise, our doctrines and creedal expressions, our attention to Scripture and our attention to sacramental life find their fullest meaning in how we reflect God’s love for each other and how we express God’s love for those who are left without loving care. For they too are made in God’s image and likeness, and in their faces we see the face of Christ.

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

Collect:

O God,
you declare your almighty power
most chiefly in showing mercy and pity:
Mercifully grant to us such a measure of your grace,
that we, running the way of your commandments,
may receive your gracious promises,
and be made partakers of your heavenly treasure;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

This sermon was preached at Matins in Zion Parish Church, Rathgar, Dublin, on Sunday 16 August 2015.

‘The bread which you do not
use is the bread of the hungry’

‘I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh’ (John 6: 51) … bread in the window of Hindley’s Bakery in Tamworth Street, Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

Zion Church, Rathgar, Dublin 6,

Sunday 16 August 2015,

The Eleventh Sunday after Trinity

9 a.m., The Eucharist.

Readings:
I Kings 2: 10-12, 3: 3-14, Psalm 111; Ephesians 5: 15-20; John 6: 51-58.

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

I know it is not traditional to have a sermon at this early celebration of the Eucharist in Zion. But I thought for a moment or two it might be appropriate to share some of the thoughts I have for my sermon later here this morning at Matins.

Our Gospel reading this morning develops one of the great “I AM” sayings in Saint John’s Gospel, the first of these seven sayings, which we heard last Sunday.

In last Sunday’s Gospel reading, Jesus said to the multitude: “I am the bread of life” (John 6: 35). And he emphasised it, not once but twice last Sunday, when he said: “I am the bread that came down from heaven” (verse 41) and again “I am the bread of life” (verse 48).

He develops that theme this morning when he says: “I am the living bread” (verse 51).

These are emphatic declarations. In the Fourth Gospel, Jesus says “I am” 45 times. But he uses this particular way of saying I am 24 times. He says “I AM,” ἐγώ εἰμί (ego eimi), explicitly including the Greek pronoun “I” (ἐγώ ego) which is not necessary in Greek grammar at the time.

Why? What is Jesus saying?

I don’t mean to be obscure about the finer points of Greek and Greek grammar. But it is a point that was immediately obvious to the first readers of Saint John’s Gospel.

In the Hebrew Bible, the meaning of God’s name is closely related to the emphatic statement “I AM” (see Exodus 3: 14; 6: 2; Deuteronomy 32: 39; Isaiah 43: 25; 48: 12; 51: 12; etc.). In the Greek translation, the Septuagint, most of these passages are translated with as “I AM,” ἐγώ εἰμί.

The “I AM” of the Old Testament and the “I AM” of Saint John’s Gospel is the God who creates us, who communicates with us, who gives himself to us.

But it is worth asking ourselves as we prepare to meet Christ in the Eucharist this morning, what does it mean to acknowledge Christ as “the bread of life”?

Earlier this year, I spent some time in Cappadocia, in south-central Turkey. I was there because of my interest in sites associated with the three Cappadocian Fathers.

These were three key Patristic writers and saints: Saint Basil the Great (329-379), Bishop of Caesarea, his brother Saint Gregory (335-395), Bishop of Nyssa, and Saint Gregory Nazianzus (329-390), who became Patriarch of Constantinople.

They challenged heresies such as Arianism and their thinking was instrumental in formulating the phrases that shaped the Nicene Creed.

Saint Basil is also remembered for his challenging social values. He wrote: “The bread which you do not use is the bread of the hungry; the garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of him who is naked; the shoes that you do not wear are the shoes of the one who is barefoot; the money that you keep locked away is the money of the poor; the acts of charity that you do not perform are so many injustices that you commit.”

So faith and belief must be related to how we live our lives as Christians.

Bishop Frank Weston, who was the Bishop of Zanzibar from 1908, held together in a creative combination his incarnational and sacramental theology with his radical social concerns formed the keynote of his address to the Anglo-Catholic Congress in 1923. He believed that a true sacramental focus gave a reality to Christ’s presence and power that nothing else could.

However, he concluded: “But I say to you, and I say it with all the earnestness that I have, if you are prepared to fight for the right of adoring Jesus in His Blessed Sacrament, then … you must walk with Christ, mystically present in you through the streets of this country, and find the same Christ in the peoples of your cities and villages. You cannot claim to worship Jesus in the tabernacle, if you do not pity Jesus in the slums … It is folly – it is madness – to suppose that you can worship Jesus in the Sacraments and Jesus on the throne of glory, when you are sweating him in the souls and bodies of his children.”

So, from Basil the Great in the fourth century to great mission pioneers in the Anglican Communion in recent generations, sacramental life is meaningless unless it is lived out in our care for those who are hungry, suffering and marginalised.

“I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh” (John 6: 51).

And these are some of the points I hope to explore in my sermon later this morning.

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

Collect:

O God,
you declare your almighty power
most chiefly in showing mercy and pity:
Mercifully grant to us such a measure of your grace,
that we, running the way of your commandments,
may receive your gracious promises,
and be made partakers of your heavenly treasure;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Post Communion Prayer:

Lord of all mercy,
we your faithful people have celebrated
the memorial of that single sacrifice
which takes away our sins and brings pardon and peace.
By our communion
keep us firm on the foundation of the gospel
and preserve us from all sin;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

This reflection was shared at the Eucharist in Zion Parish Church, Rathgar, Dublin, on Sunday 16 August 2015.

10 August 2015

Preparing to preach about
‘the living bread’

‘I am the living bread’ (John 6: 51) … bread in the window of Hindley’s Bakery in Tamworth Street, Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2015)

Patrick Comerford

I am preparing two sermons for Sunday next [16 August, 2015], the Eleventh Sunday after Trinity.

One is a short reflection at the early morning celebration of the Eucharist at 9 .a.m., in Zion Parish Church, Rathgar. The second is my sermon for the main parish service, Matins, in Zion Church.

The readings are: I Kings 2: 10-12, 3: 3-14, Psalm 111; Ephesians 5: 15-20; John 6: 51-58.

In the Gospel reading, Christ describes himself as “the living bread” (verse 51).

As I work on these sermons and reflect on this key “I AM” saying in Saint John’s Gospel, I am reminded of two great saying.

Earlier this year, I was in Cappadocia, primarily because of my interest in Patristic studies and an interest in seeing sites associated with the Cappadocian Fathers.

Three key patristic writers and saints are Saint Basil the Great (329-379), Bishop of Caesarea, his brother Saint Gregory (335-395), Bishop of Nyssa, and Saint Gregory Nazianzus (329-390), who became Patriarch of Constantinople.

They challenged heresies such as Arianism and their thinking was instrumental in formulating the phrases that shaped the Nicene Creed.

Saint Basil is also remembered for his challenging social values: “The bread which you do not use is the bread of the hungry; the garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of him who is naked; the shoes that you do not wear are the shoes of the one who is barefoot; the money that you keep locked away is the money of the poor; the acts of charity that you do not perform are so many injustices that you commit.”

So faith and belief must be related to how we live our lives as Christians.

And secondly I am reminded of Bishop Frank Weston, Bishop of Zanzibar from 1908, who held together in a creative combination his incarnational and sacramental theology with his radical social concerns. These formed the keynote of his address to the Anglo-Catholic Congress in 1923. He believed that the sacramental focus gave a reality to Christ’s presence and power that nothing else could, and said: “The one thing England needs to learn is that Christ is in and amid matter, God in flesh, God in sacrament.”

However, he concluded: “But I say to you, and I say it with all the earnestness that I have, if you are prepared to fight for the right of adoring Jesus in His Blessed Sacrament, then, when you come out from before your tabernacles, you must walk with Christ, mystically present in you through the streets of this country, and find the same Christ in the peoples of your cities and villages. You cannot claim to worship Jesus in the tabernacle, if you do not pity Jesus in the slums … It is folly – it is madness – to suppose that you can worship Jesus in the Sacraments and Jesus on the throne of glory, when you are sweating him in the souls and bodies of his children.”

So sacramental life is meaningless unless it is lived out in our care for those who are hungry, suffering and marginalised.

04 January 2015

An Epiphany sermon on the 50th
anniversary of the death of TS Eliot

The Visit of the Magi seen on a panel on the triptych in the Lady Chapel in Lichfield Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford/Lichfield Gazette)

Patrick Comerford,

The Second Sunday of Christmas,

4 January 2015,

Zion Church, Rathgar, Dublin:

10.30 a.m., The Eucharist

Readings:


Jeremiah 31: 7-14; Psalm 147: 12-20; Ephesians 1: 3-14; John 1: [1-9], 10-18.

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

The Christmas festivities are almost over, the New Year’s celebrations are already past. Some of us may have returned to work, or are going back to school or college tomorrow. Some of us, perhaps, have already forgotten those New Year’s resolutions made only a few days ago. We are a people with great resolve but little perseverance.

But it is good at the beginning of a new year, on our first Sunday back in Church, to begin at the beginning.

And so, on this Sunday, the Second Sunday of Christmas, the cycle of readings in the Revised Common Lectionary always provides for these same readings.

The prophet Jeremiah has that wonderful promise of new beginnings, of a new heaven and a new earth, that is a cheering beginning to the new year.

In the bleak midwinter, the Psalmist reminds us that God “gives snow like wool and scatters the hoarfrost like ashes.”

Saint Paul, in turn reminds us of our first promise in Christ and our final hopes in God’s promises.

And then in the Gospel, we re-read what is for many one of the climatic readings on Christmas day: the prologue to Saint John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word … And the Word became flesh and lived among us.”

This Gospel reading comes to mind when I read TS Eliot’s poem ‘East Coker’ – the second of his poems in the Four Quartets, which opens:

In my beginning is my end …

and which ends:

… In my end is my beginning.

For Christmas is meaningless as a beginning unless it has its end, and the end must have a beginning.

The Adoration by the Magi ... an Ethiopian artist’s impression (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Over the next few weeks, the Epiphany readings remind us that the Christmas story is not just about the Crib and the Christmas, nativity stories, but about God coming to dwell among us, and pointing from the beginning towards the promise and revelation to all nations, to all people.

The three principle Epiphany themes are:

• The Adoration of the Magi (Tuesday’s reading on the Feast of the Epiphany, 6 January, Matthew 2: 1-12);
• The Baptism of Christ by Saint the Baptist in the River Jordan (Epiphany 1, next Sunday’s reading, 11 January, Mark 1: 1-11);
• The miracle at the wedding in Cana (Epiphany 3, 25 January, John 2: 1-11).

But, while we are moving from Christmas to Epiphany, which begins on 6 January and ends at the Feast of the Presentation on Candlemas on 2 February, the Epiphany season is truly a continuation of the Christmas season, the liturgical colour remains white, and together Christmas and Epiphany form one full, continuous season of 40 days.

The visit of the Magi is a symbolic presentation of God’s revelation in Christ to the Gentiles. It inspired one of the great poems by TS Eliot, who died on this day 50 years ago, 4 January 1965.

This poem was written after Eliot’s conversion to Christianity and his confirmation in the Church of England in 1927, but was not published until 1930 in his Ariel Poems.

In some ways, this poem recalls ‘Dover Beach’ by Matthew Arnold (1822-1888), but also shows some influences of the earlier ‘The Magi’ by WB Yeats.

However, unlike Yeats, Eliot’s ‘The Journey of the Magi’ is a truly Anglican poem, for the first five lines are based on the 1622 ‘Nativity Sermon’ of Lancelot Andrewes (1555-1626), Bishop of Winchester, who first summarised Anglicanism in the dictum “One canon reduced to writing by God himself, two testaments, three creeds, four general councils, five centuries and the series of Fathers in that period … determine the boundary of our faith.”

Eliot’s poem recalls the journey of Magi to Bethlehem from the point of view of one of the Wise Men. He chooses an elderly speaker who is world-weary, reflective and sad. This narrator is a witness to momentous historical change who seeks to rise above that historical moment, a man who, despite material wealth and prestige, has lost his spiritual bearings. The speaker is agitated, his revelations are accidental and born out of his emotional distress, and he speaks to us, the readers, directly.

Instead of celebrating the wonders of the journey, the wise man recalls a journey that was painful and tedious. He remembers how a tempting, distracting voice was constantly whispering in their ears on that journey that “this was all folly.”

The poem picks up Eliot’s persistent theme of alienation and a feeling of powerlessness in a world that has changed.

Instead of celebrating the wonders of his journey, the surviving magus complains about a journey that was painful, tedious, and seemingly pointless. He says that a voice was always whispering in their ears as they went that “this was all folly.” The magus may have been unimpressed by the new-born infant, but he realises that the incarnation changes everything, and he asks:

... were we led all that way for
Birth or Death?


The birth of Christ was the death of the old religions. Now in his old age, he realises that with this birth his world had died, and he has little left to do but to wait for his own death.

On their journey, the Magi see “three trees against a low sky” – a vision of the future Crucifixion on Calvary. The Incarnation points to the Cross. Without Good Friday and Easter Day, Christmas has no significance for us at all. The birth of Christ leads to the death of old superstitions and old orders.

The “running stream” may refer to the Baptism of Christ by John the Baptist in the River Jordan, which is also an Epiphany moment.

The “six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver” recall both the betrayal of Christ by Judas for 30 pieces of silver, and the dice thrown for Christ’s garment at the foot of the cross.

The empty wineskins recall the miracle at the Wedding in Cana, another Epiphany theme.

The early morning descent into a “temperate valley” evokes three significant Christian events: the nativity and the dawning of a new era; the empty tomb of Easter; and the Second Coming and the return of Christ from the East, dispelling darkness as the Sun of Righteousness.

In his old age, as he recalls these events, has the now-elderly Wise Man little left to do apart from waiting for his own death?

He is a witness of historical change, does he manage to rise above his historical moment?

With his material wealth and prestige, has he lost his spiritual bearings?

Or has he had spiritual insights before his time?

And so, on the fiftieth anniversary of the death of TS Eliot, the greatest Anglican poet of the 20th century, let me go no further and simply read that poem, which links Christmas, Epiphany and the Easter story, which links beginnings and ends, ends and beginnings, which makes sense and meaning of the Christmas story at the beginning of this New Year:

The Adoration of the Magi ... a stained glass window in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

The Journey of the Magi, by TS Eliot

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times when we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

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

Collect:

Almighty God,
in the birth of your Son
you have poured on us the new light of your incarnate Word,
and shown us the fullness of your love:
Help us to walk in this light and dwell in his love
that we may know the fullness of his joy;
who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Post Communion Prayer:

Light eternal,
you have nourished us in the mystery
of the body and blood of your Son:
By your grace keep us ever faithful to your word,
in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord.

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. This sermon was preached at the Parish Eucharist in Zion Parish Church, Rathgar, Dublin, on Sunday 4 January 2015.

‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year’
… an Epiphany sermon

The poet TS Eliot in a portrait by Sir Gerald Kelly … he died 50 years ago on 4 January 1965

Patrick Comerford,

The Second Sunday of Christmas,

4 January 2015,

Zion Church, Rathgar, Dublin:

9 a.m., The Eucharist

Readings:


Jeremiah 31: 7-14; Psalm 147: 12-20; Ephesians 1: 3-14; John 1: [1-9], 10-18.

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

Four days into January, and I wonder how many of us have already forgotten our New Year’s resolutions?

Sometimes, we begin as we mean to go, but our intentions are always better than our capacity for endurance.

Yet our Scripture readings this morning make that connection between beginnings and endings.

Christ comes to dwell among us, and Saint John reminds us that this is a new creation. This is a new beginning. We re-read what is for many one of the climatic readings on Christmas day: the prologue to Saint John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word … And the Word became flesh and lived among us.”

This Gospel reading comes to mind when I read TS Eliot’s poem ‘East Coker’ – the second of his poems in the Four Quartets, which opens:

In my beginning is my end …

and which ends:

… In my end is my beginning.

Christmas always holds the offer of new beginnings, new creation, the promise of new opportunities to be caught up in the love of God.

The Epiphany readings remind us that the Christmas story is not just about the Crib and the Christmas, nativity stories, but about God coming to dwell among us, and pointing from the beginning towards the promise and revelation to all nations, to all people.

The three principle Epiphany themes are:

• The Adoration of the Magi (Tuesday’s reading on the Feast of the Epiphany, 6 January, Matthew 2: 1-12);
• The Baptism of Christ by Saint the Baptist in the River Jordan (Epiphany 1, next Sunday’s reading, 11 January, Mark 1: 1-11);
• The miracle at the wedding in Cana (Epiphany 3, 25 January, John 2: 1-11).

The visit of the Magi is a symbolic presentation of God’s revelation in Christ to the Gentiles. It inspired one of the great poems by TS Eliot, who died on this day 50 years ago, 4 January 1965.

This poem was written after Eliot’s conversion to Christianity and his confirmation in the Church of England in 1927, but was not published until 1930 in his Ariel Poems.

So, rather than continuing with this sermon so early in the morning, I think it might be a good idea, on the 50th anniversary of the death of TS Eliot, and two days before the Feast of the Epiphany, to read that poem:

The Adoration of the Magi, by Peter Paul Rubens ... the Altarpiece in the Chapel of King’s College, Cambridge

The Journey of the Magi, by TS Eliot

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times when we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

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

The Visit of the Magi seen on a panel on the triptych in the Lady Chapel in Lichfield Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford/Lichfield Gazette)

Collect:

Almighty God,
in the birth of your Son
you have poured on us the new light of your incarnate Word,
and shown us the fullness of your love:
Help us to walk in this light and dwell in his love
that we may know the fullness of his joy;
who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Post Communion Prayer:

Light eternal,
you have nourished us in the mystery
of the body and blood of your Son:
By your grace keep us ever faithful to your word,
in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord.

(Revd Canon Professor) Patrick Comerford is Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. This sermon was preached at the early Sunday morning Eucharist in Zion Parish Church, Rathgar, Dublin, on 4 January 2015.

Carols and Hymns for Christmas (11):
‘As with gladness men of old’ (No 189)

‘Star of Bethlehem’ by Edward Burn-Jones

Patrick Comerford

Today is the Second Sunday After Christmas, and this morning I am celebrating the Eucharist and preaching in Zion Church, Rathgar, where my friend, the Revd Stephen Farrell, is the Rector.

Although it is another two days to the Feast of Epiphany [6 January], many parishes are likely to opt for the Epiphany readings this morning. However, the Christmas season continues. Each morning during this Season of Christmas, I am reflecting on an appropriate hymn or carol. This morning [4 January 2015], I have chosen ‘As with gladness men of old.’

The words and lyrics of this Christmas Carol were written by William Chatterton Dix (1837-1898) on the Feast of the Epiphany, 6 January 1858, when he was only 20 and while he was sick in bed. Dix is also the author of another popular Christmas hymn, ‘What Child Is This,’ which provided my reflection for Friday morning [2 January 2015].

Dix was born in Bristol, the son of a local medical doctor. His spent most of his working life in maritime insurance, but he had a life-long passion for writing lyrics for hymns and carols. He died in Cheddar, Somerset, in 1898.

This morning’s hymn was first published in AH Ward’s Hymns for Public Worship and Private Devotion (1860). The following year it was published in Hymns Ancient and Modern, for Use in the Services of the Church (1861), and Dix included it in his own book, Hymns of Love and Joy (1867).

This morning’s hymn was brought to prominence by Sir Roundell Palmer (Lord Selborne) in his paper on ‘English Church Hymnody,’ at the Church Congress at York in 1866. Since then, it has been included in numerous hymnals throughout the English-speaking world. It is included in both the Irish Church Hymnal (No 189), and the New English Hymnal (No 45).

The carol is inspired by the Epiphany gospel, Matthew 1: 1-11. Taking Matthew 1: 1-11 as his theme for stanzas 1-3, Dix likens the journey of the wise men who came to worship the Christ Child to our own Christian pilgrimage. The pattern of these stanzas is “as they … so may we.”

Stanzas 4 and 5 are a prayer that our journey on the “narrow way” may bring us finally to glory where Christ is the light (see Revelation 21: 23) and where we may perfectly sing his praise (see Revelation 22: 5).

Further examination of the carol also reveals built-in references to Psalm 43: 3, Isaiah 60: 6, II Samuel 24: 24, and Matthew 7: 14.

The tune is known as “Dix,” and was adapted by William Henry Monk from the original Treuer Heiland, Wir Sind Heir by theGerman composer Conrad Kocher (1786-1872), in Stimmen aus dem Reiche Gottes (1838).

Kocher was born in Ditzingen, Wurttemberg, in 1786, and was trained as a teacher. He moved to St Petersburg, Russia, to work as a tutor at the age of 17, but his love for the music of Haydn and Mozart impelled him to a career in music. The prestigious Cotta music firm published some of his early compositions and sent him to study music in Italy, where he came under the influence of Palestrina's music.

He returned to Germany in 1811, and settled in Stuttgart. There in 1821 he established the School of Sacred Music, which popularised four-part singing in the churches of that region.

Kocher was organist and choir director at the Striftsckirche in Stuttgart from 1827 to 1865. He wrote a treatise on church music, Die Tonkunst in der Kirche (1823), collected a large number of chorales in Zions Harfe (1855), and composed an oratorio, two operas, and some sonatas. He died in Stuttgart in 1872.

William H. Monk created the current form of ‘Dix’ by revising and shortening Kocher’s chorale melody. Monk’s tune was published with Dix’s text in the 1861 edition of Hymns Ancient and Modern, of which Monk was the music editor. Dix regretted the use of this tune for his text, but the combination has proven a good match.

Stanza 5 adds a descant by Sir Sydney H. Nicholson (1875-1947). He studied at New College, Oxford, the Royal College of Music in London, and in Frankfurt, before going on to become the organist at several famous prominent churches and cathedrals, including Westminster Abbey (1919-1928). In 1927, Nicholson founded the School of English Church Music at Chislehurst, which became the Royal School of Church Music in 1945.

As with gladness, men of old, by William Chatterton Dix

As with gladness, men of old
did the guiding star behold;
as with joy they hailed its light,
leading onward, beaming bright;
so, most glorious Lord, may we
evermore be led to thee.

As with joyful steps they sped,
Saviour, to thy lowly bed;
there to bend the knee before
thee whom heaven and earth adore;
so may we with willing feet
ever seek thy mercy-seat.

As they offered gifts most rare
at that cradle rude and bare;
so may we with holy joy,
pure and free from sin’s alloy,
all our costliest treasures bring,
Christ, to thee, our heavenly King.

Holy Jesus, every day
keep us in the narrow way;
and, when earthly things are past,
bring our ransomed souls at last
where they need no star to guide,
where no clouds thy glory hide.

In the heavenly country bright,
need they no created light;
thou its light, its joy, its crown,
thou its sun, which goes not down:
there for ever may we sing
alleluias to our King.

Tomorrow:O come, all ye faithful.’