Magazine Article for April 2018

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been reminded how a lot of days of celebration have sad associations for some people. Christmas is well-known for being a time which people can find difficult, particularly for people who have been bereaved, or have experienced the breakdown of a relationship. If this is ignored, it can leave people excluded, and the celebrations can be very insensitive.

More recently, we acknowledged similar issues in our worship on Mothering Sunday. It can be a mix of emotions for people who have no children, have a difficult relationship with their mother (or with their children) or whose mother has died. By moving the focus back to Mothering Sunday, rather than ‘Mothers Day’, we concentrated on how the church community can share in the love of God together, regardless of our human circumstances.

However, as we look forward to Holy Week and Easter, we may be conscious of situations of suffering around our world. Over the last few months we have witnessed conflict in Syria and other locations, natural disasters, and the ongoing struggle to feed people in parts of the world affected by drought or conflict. Many might ask where is God, and what can we celebrate in such circumstances?

When Christians observe Good Friday, they are entering into another tragic story, which has affected millions of people. As people think and pray about Jesus' death, they often have a strong sense of identifying with the pain Jesus knew. But a much greater identification is taking place. Good Friday tells us that God is not watching the events of this world like a news broadcast from a far away place. In Jesus he shows us that he is involved - present with us. The mystery of human suffering is that we are not cushioned from all harm; we can hurt each other and we can hurt ourselves. The promise of Good Friday is that our God is one who is with us, who knows our experiences first hand, and can be the inspiration by which lives can be healed and rebuilt.

Of course, Easter brings its joy and celebration of death defeated and suffering overcome. But what goes before is neither forgotten, nor is it there to spoil the party; it is all part of a bigger picture. Through Jesus, God shares our sorrows and our joys, and depending on our recent experiences, different parts of that story will make their connections with us. The important thing is that whatever you are feeling, you are not excluded.

Mike Peatman

Meditation for Palm Sunday 2018

Matthew 21:1-17 

"I Was Only A Child"

He was good with children.

It’s a few years ago now, but I remember him as vividly as if it was yesterday.

The first time I saw him was early on – everyone seemed to be talking about him. It was very exciting. Then, one day, my parents took me to see Jesus. I had been ill as a young child, apparently, and they wanted Jesus to bless me. I guess they thought it might protect me from any further problems. We got quite close. There was a little group of us who were kids, and I expect we were making a little bit of noise. He looked at us, and there was a delight in his eyes to see us, and I trusted him completely. We were so happy, we were laughing and giggling, but a few of his followers told us to be quiet and go away. “The teacher isn’t here for children”, they said.

That’s when I first heard his voice. It was strong and clear, but with a kindness I can’t quite describe. “No!” he said in a loud voice that made everyone jump. “Let the children come to me, and don’t you dare stop them. My father’s kingdom belongs to people who follow me and trust me like children do. Learn from them”. After that, I’m sure he took an extra amount of time to talk to each of us and bless us. His disciples looked really shamefaced.

When we heard that Jesus was coming in to Jerusalem just before the Passover Festival, we had to be there. My dad took me early in the day to the road into the city, quite near the gate. And we waited with great anticipation – I think my dad was as excited as I was.

You could hear the crowd coming a mile off. “Hosanna! Hosanna!”, people were shouting. They had cut down palm leaves and had put branches and even their cloaks on the road. People were singing and dancing and celebrating, and we all got carried away with the atmosphere. My dad and I managed to slip in to the procession just a little bit behind Jesus and we followed him up into the city. It was as if Jesus was my hero – I felt like I would have done anything for him at that moment.

The first thing Jesus did was head up to the Temple, and the next thing we knew all these people were rushing out – carrying bags of money and cages of birds. “They’re all crooks”, said my dad “about time they were taught a lesson.” Jesus was looking angry – a bit like he did when he told off his disciples about the children. “This should be a place for prayer, but you’ve turned it into a place to steal from people who are seeking my Father”, he shouted. But I wasn’t scared, because I trusted him. In fact, I thought he was brilliant.

We sneaked in, and there were some more children there, and we soon made up a song and sang it about Jesus. The grown-ups in the Temple were a bit like the other ones – they complained about us. But Jesus spoke up for us again. “These children are singing the truth”, he said. “Sometimes children can hear God much more clearly than you who think you know so much. Silence them and the stones will sing!"

While he was saying this, he caught my eye for a moment. I saw the kindness I had known before, even a little of the delight, but I was shocked to see something else. There was a sadness in his eyes too - a pained look that meant I knew something was wrong. Something bad was going to happen. It was the look people have when they say goodbye to go on a long journey, not knowing if – or when - they will return. I had no idea then what would lie ahead – how could I? I was just a child. But I could see what he was feeling, and for the first and only time it made me a little bit scared. Not of him, but for him.

He needed his friends more than ever, but despite all the people round him, he seemed lonelier than I had ever seen him. He was starting something only he could do, and all I could do was treasure the memories I had and watch and wait to see what would happen.

“Come on”, said Dad, “we’ve a Passover to prepare”. It would be one I would never forget.

- Mike Peatman

Magazine Article for February 2018: Lent

Have you ever stopped to think why you do things the way you do? Why do you shop on that particular day, or set the table in a specific way? Why do you drive that route, when you're going to the shops? Why is your morning or evening routine the way it is?

There will be good and carefully thought-out answers for these questions in some cases, but for most of us, the habits we have fallen into have just happened by accident - or we have inherited them from someone else. Of course, there are times in life when our patterns and habits get challenged - going to college, getting married and so on. But often, we just carry on, because that's what we have always done.

But I have to say that some of the most positive and creative experiences I have had is when people have challenged the norms I lapse into, by asking questions or suggesting alternative ways of doing things. It's not always comfortable, but it can be very life-giving if you're brave enough to listen.

For those of us with faith, we have a whole different set of habits and norms, which can be very deeply embedded in our being. The church we go to, the time of the service we attend, the pew we sit in, as well as the roles we fill or the activities we attend. If those are ever challenged by someone else, it can feel a very personal intrusion and we can find ourselves being very defensive.

However, if Lent means anything, then it is a time to question, to review and probably to change. It might be a simple change - allocating a little more time to prayer, Bible study or serving God in some way. It may raise bigger questions for some of us about our priorities, our values and our commitments. It may even ask us if we are in the right place or job.

But we don't have to do that work alone - I value having someone who is a spiritual director who I meet every few weeks for that sort of review conversation. If that would be helpful for you, have a word with me, Anne Cunliffe, or Sue Kiernan.

That may not be for all of us, but if we're paying attention to Lent, we can't go through it without any questions being raised, or without being prompted to think again about our lives. Just remember: it's not a reason to fear. It might just be the exciting start of something new.

Treasure the questions

Mike Peatman

Sermon on Genesis 3 - Adam and Eve

MORECAMBE PARISH CHURCH     9 March 2014

Genesis 3: 1 – 13

Back in January a friend and I started a Bible study with a new group of International students. This time there are 3 from Mainland China and one from Brazil. They all teach in Universities in their home countries and are here at Lancaster Uni to do some further study.

Yet again this year none of the Chinese folk had ever opened a Bible before our meeting together. Because of that we always start with a little bit about the beginning of the Bible, otherwise, as Mike was saying last week, the gospels don’t make any sense. And we always have the same experience. I ask ‘do you know any stories or ideas from the Bible?’ and one of their answers is always: Adam and Eve and ‘original sin’!

I usually explain that it was Augustine who first coined the phrase original sin – a brilliant but very troubled bloke who lived around 400 AD. His idea was that because of Adam and Eve’s first act of sin, sinfulness has been passed down, transmitted to every individual in every generation since.

That’s not how everyone sees this story today, but it does acknowledge that we all seem to have this feeling that something has gone wrong. It seems to be embedded in the consciousness of every human being. And, coming back to my Chinese friends, it shows that when people know little else about the Bible except Adam and Eve, the garden and the snake, it’s a story that fascinates us.

I know that many of you were very encouraging to Mike when he spoke about creation a couple of weeks ago (if you weren’t here, it’s on his blog and well worth reading).

I am going to follow that train of thought and say that, just as with the account of creation, we do not have to take the story of Adam and Eve literally to feel its power. It operates at the level which – to use a dangerous word - is properly called ‘myth’.

I say it is dangerous to use that word, because the way people use the word myth today has reduced it to no more than a fairy story, and certainly not to be taken seriously. Please don’t mis-hear me. I am not saying the account here is a fairy story. It’s much deeper than that. We think of myths as not true, but this story is very true. In fact in Genesis 3 we meet with truth in so deep and powerful a form that it can only be conveyed through a story. And that is the true meaning and purpose of myth.

So don’t be afraid when people say “oh all that nonsense about Adam and Eve; it’s just a myth. The cradle of humanity is Africa not some unknown place called Eden and some imaginary people called Adam and Eve”. You could pull the rug from under their feet by saying, “I agree; it is myth – if you mean by that, that this story is my story, your story. It describes every human beings’ experience since the beginning of time – and that’s the point. It describes the root of the human predicament amazingly accurately. It answers those questions of how did we got into this mess with a story that has the ring of truth.

So what did go wrong?

Well there’s something here about disobedience. That’s where the serpent starts: v 1 “did God say you shall not eat of the tree?"  Yes, he did! God gave a command and Adam and Eve disobeyed. So sin equals disobeying the law of God. But there is more to it than that.

V 4 – 5 “The serpent said to the woman, ‘you will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil’.” Adam and Eve seemed to know that they were made to be like God but they had a sneaky feeling that there was more to it than God was letting on to them. Surely just living in harmony with creation and taking care of all that God had made couldn’t be what it was really like to be God? They were hoodwinked into believing that eating the forbidden fruit would do the trick and give them what they wanted – a short cut to making them like God. They are persuaded to despise what they already have and to go it alone. They decide they can do without God.

Their response is the opposite of Jesus’ response to the temptations in the wilderness. Satan tempts Jesus with the same subtleness, twisting scripture, offering a way of living without God. But he gets short shrift from Jesus who knows his Hebrew Bible and will not live independently of God his Father.

It’s the beginning of Lent. Somehow instead of thinking about that bigger picture, we become absorbed with what little sin we can give up. Sue was telling me that a rather difficult girl at school said to her last week: “I think I’m going to give up choc for Lent?” To which Sue replied, “why don’t you do something more productive?” “Like what?” she asked “Why don’t you give up sulking instead?” “Oh, that’s an idea. Pause. How long’s Lent?” She came back a few days later and said “I tried it and I feel so much better!”

The sin of attitude is a far more important sin to address in Lent than chocolate! The way we talk about or talk to each other is mentioned or alluded to in Jesus’ teaching a lot, far more than some other sins that people outside the church think the church is obsessed with!.

Let’s take something that probably all of us have been guilty of at some point: criticism, talking about someone negatively behind their back, gossip. Even if I have a feeling it’s not right, a little voice inside says: it’s not all that bad, is it? So similar to the serpent’s question in v 1: “Did God say?”

Eve saw that the tree was good and a delight to the eyes, (v 6) and it was to be desired to make one wise, so she took – stole it, and she ate – took it inside her. That’s how sin works. It’s a very familiar pattern.

If someone told me the truth, that gossip and talking negatively about another is stealing their reputation and murdering their good name, I would defend myself; it’s not all that serious, surely? And I certainly would find it hard to believe that something in me will die as a result. We hear the serpent’s voice: “You will not surely die?” (v 3)

And just as we do with criticism, Eve didn’t keep it to herself; (v 6) she gave some to her husband. We drag others in with us. But then we fear we are going to get found out! And so we hide from the truth - Adam and Eve hid from the presence of the Lord God (v 8) and we try to cover it up and then we blame the other person. It’s exactly what happens in this story – Adam blames Eve and Eve blames the serpent (v 12)!

Now tell me, is this true of your experience? This story is my story – at the deepest level of my being, I know it to be true. And I also know that if we are walking with God, if we are in the habit of being open with God in prayer, we’ll feel ashamed of ourselves and we will want to put it right with God and the other person we hooked in.

We also know that the God who created us in love wants that relationship healed and restored and forgiven – and that is the story of the rest of the Bible.                         

- Sue Kiernan