Saint Michael’s Church

Serving God and Bishop’s Stortford

Clergy Letter For April 2011

 CLERGY LETTER FOR

APRIL and EASTER 2011

 

The Revd Anthony Searle ponders....

 

daffodils - small

I’ve been an avid fan of the channel 4 programme Brothers and Sisters for many moons; it’s a fairly syrupy US drama revolving around the Walker family, a 21st Century Waltons, and each week some meaningful message is artfully woven into the drama.  It’s from one such episode that I draw some of my inspiration (inspiration comes from all sorts of places!): to précis, the hunky French artist, Luc, proposed to Sarah Walker – divorcee with two children – but she declines Luc’s offer, due to the collapse of her previous marriage and the apparent disintegration of Kevin’s (her brother) seemingly perfect marriage to Scott.  Sarah has fallen to the temptation not to try again, fallen for that temptation not to hope that Luc might be a better husband and father than her previous.  Luc asks Sarah, ‘Do you refuse to buy an orchid from a florist because you know that it will die?’

As this magazine is published we will be in the midst of resisting temptations for Lent.  I ponder on some of the temptations that you might be resisting: perhaps you’ve taken this as an apt opportunity to resist chocolate or alcohol (I doubt you’ve managed both); or maybe you’ve taken up a daily routine of prayer or biblical contemplation and are now struggling in the third week of this discipline; or perhaps you’ve fallen prey to the temptation not to start something because you ‘know’ you’ll give in at the first opportunity.  I used to try to forgo alcohol, but come that first Friday after school I’d be down the pub with a gin in hand, laughing and reminiscing with colleagues over that week’s antics before I’d even remembered that I made a ‘solid attempt’ to resist.  Yet does this mean I shouldn’t try again?

For, in this midst of all this resisting temptation in Lent, and for much of the rest of the year, we all too often fall to the temptation not to hope.  We fall to the temptation not to hope in our relationships.  We fall to the temptation not to hope in our mistakes.  We fall to the temptation not to hope through anxiety and suffering.

Yet hope is the gift of Easter.

That stone rolled away to let the Light out of the tomb and into our lives: the power of the resurrection burst from the grave clothes to face us with hope.  Those of you who have joined us in reading Stephen Cottrell’s book, The Things He Said, (Cottrell, S. (2009) The story of the first Easter day, SPCK, London. pp27-8) will recognise the following:

‘He speaks her name – ‘Mary’ – and her eyes are opened, her ears unblocked.  Like Adam giving names to all the creatures, she is named.  And with the gift of a name the gift of a place, the gift of belonging.  As she hears her name, she receives the gift, and at last she turns away from the emptiness of the tomb and all its hopelessness, and towards the one who is her hope.  In the wilderness of her grief, flowers blossom and bloom.’

In Lent we are commanded to turn from sin and be faithful to Christ: in the resurrection of Easter we join Mary Magdalene in turning from the hopelessness and emptiness of the tomb; we join her in turning towards Jesus who is our hope.

We are not a ‘Good Friday’ people; we are an Easter people.  Each Sunday we bring to heart and mind the events of Holy Week, but only in the light of Easter, only in the light of resurrection.  We celebrate on Sunday not on Friday because we live in the resurrection, because in our lives flowers blossom and bloom.

For many years now I’ve want to go on a pilgrimage from Iona, Scotland, to Santiago, Spain, even though this will take many weeks over many years.  And in the past I’ve never started it, falling to the temptation to fear that maybe it’s too much; that probably I’ll never finish it, so why bother starting?  This year I’ve realised that I should live in hope: so I’ve bought the maps; I’m planning the route; I’m training and walking; and I’m going in September to start this pilgrimage.  I won’t finish it this year – I’ll probably only get as far as Glasgow – but I’ll live in hope that one day I’ll get to Santiago.

Let us live lives in hope.  Let us live knowing deep in our gut that we are people of the resurrection.  Let us live lives that reflect the bursting from the tomb, the blossoming of the wilderness, the dawn from high that is flooding creation.  Go and buy the orchid in hope.

Anthony

PS.  For those of you who are interested, Sarah did accept Luc’s proposal after he bought her an orchid, and Kevin and Scott are working out their problems.