Sermon for the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity

11th Jun 2017


Perichoresis means that whenever one person of the Trinity acts, the other two are involved, that each divine person permeates the other two without being merged into them, and  that they dwell in each other and communicate their life and love to One another. The Rublev icon of The Holy Trinity manages to communicate this very beautifully and simply and invites us to inhabit this sublime truth telling as being invited into the household of God’s love where a place is reserved for us and beckons us to come and eat at table as in the words of George Herbert:


LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,     

      Guilty of dust and sin.           

But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack         

      From my first entrance in,      

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning              

      If I lack'd anything.    


'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:'     

     Love said, 'You shall be he.'     

'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,       

      I cannot look on Thee.'             10

Love took my hand and smiling did reply,   

      'Who made the eyes but I?'     


'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame   

      Go where it doth deserve.'     

'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame?'            

      'My dear, then I will serve.'     

'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.'  

      So I did sit and eat.


The Persons of the Trinity cannot exist or act without relating to one another and by natural extension, to us. The existence of God is a relationship. As the Athanasian Creed puts it, "And in this Trinity none is afore, or after other; none is greater, or less than another; but the whole Three Persons are co-eternal together and co-equal." That is why between them, the opening verses of Genesis and John's gospel indicate that creation was the work of the Trinity. And that is why Jesus could tell the disciples that he is in the Father and the Father in him, why he could promise that the Holy Spirit would be with them and in them. On this Trinity Sunday we are stopped in our tracks and reminded that our proper response is to worship God who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. And when we worship we introduce those elements of awe and wonder, and we describe our Christian Faith in the words of poetic utterance. John Donne memorably wrote,


O Blessed glorious Trinity,

Bones to Philosophy, but milk to faith.


We are confronted with a mystery and we will spend a lifetime not only pondering but living that mystery as a response to the God we experience as a real presence. Our only reasonable response lies in our true worship. As John Mason, the seventeenth century poet and hymn writer, put it, “we are best reduced to awed silence in the face of God's holy presence”. And he expresses something of this thinking in his famous hymn ‘How shall I sing that Majesty?’


How great a being, Lord, is thine,

Which doth all beings keep!

Thy knowledge is the only line

To sound so vast a deep.

Thou art a sea without a shore,

A sun without a sphere;

Thy time is now and ever more,

Thy place is everywhere.


It should not deter us that the things of God remain hidden from mere knowledge and that faith demands of us much courage and staying power. In the face of so-called ‘proofs to the contrary’ by Richard Dawkins and armchair critics, of those who cannot believe in a God who would allow human suffering the response is not to become argumentative but rather to let things be. There is no need for defensiveness. Without God and without an imperfect, suffering world, where would we be? Life would have us exist as automatons and the environment we lived in would resemble a sanatorium, where our basic freedoms would be denied. There would be no human hope. That hope would be denied humankind because there would be no recourse to the life of the complete person, living not just as a machine but as a soul, as a vulnerable human being made to live in freedom in the image and the likeness of the Maker, where life is not lived in a simple straight line, but is unpredictable, and ultimately unfathomable without living from its heart, which is God.


If you visit Dublin in Ireland you will want to go and see the great treasure of Ireland, which is the Book of Kells It was a treasure even in its own lifetime, made in about the year 800, and is a Book containing the Gospels and Books of the New Testament. This was a book not written but ‘illuminated’ and reveals to us the characteristic endless swirls and twists and turns in the calligraphy, apparently leading nowhere but ending and beginning somewhere. The life of God and the life of humankind is always interrelated, as are all things. These characteristic Celtic swirls also surround and support Christian symbols, and we have a marvellous illustration of Christ as a Celtic Chieftan, an imposing and frightening figure (See illustration). But the real point is that these Celtic Christians had combined old and new beliefs and their embrace of Christianity was one which did not extinguish the difficult questions that life posed for them. They would have lived harsh, brutal and brief lives in a hostile climate, and yet the illumination of their precious Christian Gospels is a sign of their desire to cling to the Gospel message in all its truth and beauty and at the same time not pretend that life was not like it was and that the people were not as they were. Life was difficult and the human terrain intractable and unbearable. And yet the swirling maze of beautifully and intricately crafted illumination shows an inner joy of spirit, of a knowing and unknowing, and an advanced and intense spirituality. A knowledge of God sprung from the human heart and soul; and all this at the end of what we call The Dark Ages. Out of the dark, there emerged illumination; light. This was the light of faith and the one which, burning in human hearts, proved then and now to be a living flame that would never be extinguished. Proof, if you needed proof of the existence of God in a form not merely gainsaid, but fully realised in the lives of whose being finds its true hope meaning in Him.


For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God shining in the face of Jesus Christ. 2 Cor 4.2

Sermon for the Feast of Pentecost

4th Jun 2017



Sermon for the Feast of Pentecost


They were all filled with the Holy Spirit.  Acts 2.4.


The Coming of the Holy Spirit marks the Church’s real birthday, though the Church was really begun as the disciples were called at Galilee. Even so, our dramatic first reading from The Acts of the Apostles describes a signal moment among those who had followed Christ. For the moment of Pentecost was singular and devastating. The Holy Spirit had come with power and it had rested upon them. It was the power which declared God to be not only real in the lives of men and women everywhere, but whose presence and Holy Spirit was to lie at the heart of all that might be fulfilled in His Name.


This Pentecost moment had emerged out of their long Eastertide. It had been an Eastertide of waiting and of wondering and of bewilderment. Something might emerge out of all this apparent mess, but what? What is most certain among the loose band of followers was this: The teaching of Christ and the experience of the resurrection had been transformative for their lives. They now knew that what they had been given by Jesus was a living Gospel of unparalleled spiritual power.  Pentecost had come to them in the giving of spiritual gifts. And the Giver was the Giver of all things, God himself. And the gift was the gift of himself as seen and known in His Son Jesus Christ and in the giving of the Holy Spirit. Jesus had asked that it be sent and foretold its coming. And so it was. The original spirit of God, which had brooded over the face of the waters before the Creation had now become the life giving spirit mediated in and through the life and death of Christ. And the gift for the disciples was to be both inspirational and practical and future providing.


It is most important to the writer of the Acts of the Apostles that this is a Holy Spirit which is not wil o’ the wisp and elusive. It is a Holy Spirit which takes basic form in the life of the emerging Christian community as a gift from God in Jesus Christ. And the primary fact of this gift is three-fold:


Firstly it is a gift which calls us to think differently about the human family in the breakdown of tribal, national and language barriers. The idea of the proliferation of languages with the one singular understanding burns in our minds as the possibilities that lie inherent in the understanding of different worlds of understanding. We are here called to take on the reality of what lies before us as strange and new and embrace it wholeheartedly, for it is when we meet and greet and accept the new and the hitherto unlearned parts of our experience that we truly grow into God’s likeness.


God’s love must lead us where it wills, for the Holy Spirit and its life and operation must have us acknowledge that as a Church we do not get carried away with our own self-sufficiency. God is ever provident and the existence of the Holy Spirit reminds us that what we do we do in His name, in His Way and in His time.


Little Gidding   IV


The dove descending breaks the air

With flame of incandescent terror

Of which the tongues declare

The one discharge from sin and error.

The only hope, or else despair

Lies in the choice of pyre of pyre—

To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love.

Love is the unfamiliar Name

Behind the hands that wove

The intolerable shirt of flame

Which human power cannot remove.

We only live, only suspire

                                Consumed by either fire or fire.                  T S Eliot.


Secondly, the gift of the Holy Spirit is the one which calls the Christian Church to look beyond itself and its own needs and to see the person of Christ in the eyes of the stranger, the visitor, the refugee, the homeless one, the marginalized, the gay person, the drunk, the depressed and the fatalistic. To look also to the perhaps unseen and unheeded suffering and need going on in our own midst. The Holy Spirit is holy and it is a spirit which gives inner nourishment, but its basic life is one which calls us out of ourselves and beyond the level of our normal horizons. God is to be found there : in the other. He is often called ‘The Holy Other’. In this there may come new life, for the Spirit renews us as it draws us out of ourselves, and into the place of illumination and of hope which is the presence of God and the love of God.



Unless the eye catch fire

The God will not be seen.


Unless the ear catch fire

The God will not be heard.


Unless the tongue catch fire

The God will not be named.


Unless the heart catch fire

The God will not be loved.


Unless the mind catch fire

The God will not be known.


From 'Pentecost' by William Blake.



Finally, the Holy Spirit lives among us in the life of God’s Church, which is the power of God and the influence of God. This Church, in what it is and in what it manages to be for so many different kinds of people, is that place where God is known to dwell and a place of peace, the peace of God which passes all understanding and yet one which may be known and shared: that peace which may reach into and beyond the barriers of custom and boundaries set by this or that ingathered community; a tough peace, if you know what I mean… The message of Pentecost is that the Spirit of God has now entered places where doors had formerly been shut and minds closed, and where the windows of our seeing and knowing have grown opaque with wear.  In the breaking down of barriers, in the love of the stranger and in the power and influence of God, The Holy Spirit is forever the living flame of God’s love for us, whomever and wherever we may be…It has come to bring all things together in the One Love; the one thing needful, the living fire in the One Livng God.

Sermon for the Feast of the Ascension

28th May 2017


Ascension Day Sermon 2017


“The glory of God is the living Man; the life of Man is the Vision of God”.

                                                                                                               Archbishop Michael Ramsey.


After the six Sundays of Easter, in which we have encountered the risen Lord with the disciples in so many ways, our observance of this Feast of the Ascension of Our Lord takes us in another direction. Actually, it takes us to another dimension – heavenward.  And for The Church this heavenly dimension is a quite natural way of regarding the life of God the Creator in relation to us his creatures. This dimension is expressed most fully in John’s Gospel where Jesus’ life is the one which has come from God and goes back to God. And again for the Church, to speak of Christ is to speak of the holiness and the glory of that freedom of movement he has brought about between the heavenly and the earthly places. We have, over past weeks witnessed the trial, suffering, death, and resurrection of Christ. In the weeks following Easter we have witnessed the Christ who comes to the disciples to reassure them and point their lives and their faltering faith every forward. He provides hope in the present and the promise of glory for the future. He promises the gift of the Holy Spirit. And now he goes back to the Father as he ascends into heaven. One of the Psalms express this poetically and joyfully – (Psalm 19.1-4):


The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

Their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun…



In this meeting and mixing of the heavenly and the earthly there is the hope that is held out for us in Christ. Why is a belief in heaven so much a part of Christian Faith?  How are we to believe in heaven in a way that is not as has been said cynically “pie in the sky when you die”?  To speak of the Ascension of Jesus is to speak of the glory which emerges out of his own self offering, which is one of humility and self-giving, even unto death. It is best expressed in the 1662 Prayer Book’s Eucharistic Rite:


O God our Heavenly Father, who of thy tender mercy didst give thine only son Jesus Christ to suffer death upon the cross for our redemption, who made there (by his one oblation of himself once offered) a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the whole world, and did institute, and in his holy Gospel command us to continue,  a perpetual memory of that his precious death, until his coming again…


We are reminded in Ephesians 4.6 that Jesus “ascended on high and led captivity captive”. And we, who are on this earth as captives, are also as Christians those who follow where Jesus Christ has gone before. And we are promised that what emerges out of the pattern of his and our own struggle and in his life is the glory which is the hope of heaven to come. Like him we come from God and go back to God.  Christianity is above all else a hopeful and heaven directed faith. Our living out of this life in the pattern and likeness of Christ is a kind of suffering unto self, but again, after the pattern of Christ’s own being, the promise made to us is to the glory which is yet to be revealed to us:


For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Romans 8:18.


Archbishop Michael Ramsey was one who constantly proclaimed the Christian glory in terms of the life of Man to its fullest potential. He wishes that these words, from Irenaeus, a Second Century Theologian and Saint be placed on his gravestone: 


The glory of God is the living Man; the life of Man is the Vision of God.


Some time ago I was in Salisbury Cathedral. It is perhaps the finest example of a complete Medieval Gothic Cathedral that we have, with its spire rising to over 400’ the tallest spire in England, and the inside the vaulting which carries you mind and heart heavenward. Heavenward not just because the vaults are high and beautiful but because they speak to the heart and the souI. The architecture is spiritual architecture. I attended Evensong at which Psalm 18 was sung “The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament proclaims his handiwork” and I began to see the cathedral around me in a new light and even a new dimension. It was no longer just a glorious great church building but a piece of living sculpture, full of space and light, and arches and shapes which took the eye in this or that direction. And then, too, the music and the choir themselves declared further this glory of which the psalmist wrote and of the many ways in which the Glory of God may be expressed in the lives of us all. The glory of God lies all around us and the Christian is the one who has open eyes to express this same glory in all we are and in all we do for God’s sake…


And this is where we come down from heaven and into this earth. The Incarnation of Jesus Christ, his coming to birth as both Man and Son of God is one complete action. It is one which gifts the glory of God to each one of us in our own lives. It is the promise of his presence and of the potential in our own existences in the promise of glory gifted to us by the One Lord Jesus Christ who has ascended to that place where God is. This is the place where we are headed, too, and there is glory in that, too.


As we give our lives more fully to God, and as we dedicate ourselves in the service of Christ, let us then declare not only in our lips but with our hearts:


“The glory of God is the living Man; the life of Man is the Vision of God”.







Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter

21st May 2017

Sermon for The Sixth Sunday of Easter

Year A



In a short time the world will no longer see me, but you will see me because I live and you will live.  John 14.18.


There are some individuals who have left the world a massive human legacy. My own experience of one such great person was the founder of the Hospice Movement, Dame Cecily Saunders. I spent a year at St Christopher’s Hospice in Sydenham in the early eighties working alongside patients who had been referred to this place and who were deemed ‘terminally ill’. It seemed at the time a revolutionary thing to establish a place of care, a cross between a hospital and a nice hotel with all the amenities in the service of those whose lives and medical diagnosis had been deemed hopeless. But it was also a Christian community. A community of hope. A centre of excellence in which minds and hands and hearts and voices combined to provide a new light of hope in a dark place. In the middle of so much cancer, something new and important could be set down. The fact of dying might no longer be seen as sinister or awful, but the natural complement to a life well lived. The fear of death was laid bare. I remember in 1970 hearing of the death from cancer of a young woman athlete who had won a silver medal at the 1968 Olympic Games. Lillian Board had died of colo-rectal cancer, and its fact had been published in all the papers. The effect of the death of this 22 year old woman, whose athleticism had brought her to the peak of success on the track, was for the communication of the unspeakable cancer. . Cancer was then regarded as unmentionable, and referred to as the big ‘C’. The Hospice Movement,  helped to slay this terrible demon and to cast out great fear.


The Biblical readings for these Sundays after Easter point us to the kind of Church which emerged out of the life and death and Resurrection of Christ. And the picture we are given is of a Church living its life from the Death and Resurrection of Christ. This energy was a life force granted to the Church through the gift, the operation and the proclamation of The Holy Spirit which granted life and substance and future to the Church. The Church was not just a religious organisation, but a living organism whose head was Christ. It was a Church whose identity lay not just in the example and teaching of Christ but in his very body and blood. This was a Church of the Incarnation, a life and death Church. And rather like the Hospice Movement, the Church was to be radically humanitarian, a slayer of age-old and life-denying demons, a Church whose practical human wisdom, healing power and courage in the face of opposition was to break through the barriers that separated life from death and faith from fear. As John tells us in today’s Gospel, “…you will see me because I live and you will live”.


It is certainly true of a Christian Church like Holy Cross, that it experiences life and death and everything else between. Here in King's Cross we often witness acts of violence in our streets, where the police tape has been ranged across familiar walking paths, and where individual policeman stand guard over an empty scene. At the same time a baby cries, and then streams of children and commuters bustle up and down Whidbourne Street. Someone is playing their music too loud, someone has arrived outside church and sits on the bench to drink his regular can of lager at 9 in the morning. An elderly woman walks past leaning on her shopping trolley for dear worth. The landlord of the pub opposite walks his Alsatian dog. A road sweeper or cleaning operative come to sweep up last nights fag ends while a jogger runs past. Whether it be the Hospice, the life of the early Church or a King’s Cross Street scene, for us as Christians these are all places which have been and are inhabited by the love of God. There is no place and no circumstances in which the love of God cannot be manifest and shown to be real. The mark of the Christian Church from its beginning was its ability to address its place in the big world as an involved inhabitant. Christianity has never been a religion based on ideals. Nor is it a closed sect. It faces the world as it finds it and is called to be Christ in all those situations where the world cries out in need.


The Church must surely stand as that place and those people in which the presence and purposes of God are made known. The Church affirms the wonder of our human being and therefore its great worth. The Church as Hospice. The Church as place of listening and healing. The Church as place and people of hope. This will involve the casting out of fear in its many and various forms. It will be the Church’s call to be a hospitable place which embraces life inside and around it. God’s eyes and so Christian eyes look with compassion on the world that Jesus came to save. The Easter message is that the Resurrection of Christ from the Dead is not gifted to the chosen few, the spiritual aristocracy,  but to our entire common humanity. The Church exists as an agent for the healing of the whole person. Our true calling this Eastertide is the one which finds ourselves newly composed and our hearts more compassionately open to the world around us, a world which needs the love of God just as much now as it did when the tomb first stood gloriously empty. This forms an important part of Jesus' valedictory or goodbye message to the disciples. But he does not leave them spiritually orphaned. He reminds them and us that “…you will see me because I live and you will live”. Death has been swallowed up in His now has the last word.

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter

14th May 2017


The Fifth Sunday of Easter


“In my Father’s House there are many mansions”.



All of us, one way or another long for a sense of belonging. It is natural for us to need that place and those people to whom we can be ourselves. In recent times there has been a remarkable upsurge in the number of people living on their own. Many modern day families no longer live close by one another. Consequently, families do not form the formal units that they once did. Many are ‘second families’ or families drawn from previously existing family units. Then there are families which are scattered throughout the world, and who exist, forced apart, but united in love and communicating on the mobile ‘phone. Money is sent electronically through the ether.


In the light of the words of St John’s Gospel we may come to understand more fully the mysterious words that “…in my Father’s house are many mansions”. There are in the world so many kinds of dwelling place for a global population which has become more and more proliferated and communicating with itself from immense distances and situations in life.  The many mansions or rooms speak to us of diversity but also that they form part of one household. As the Easter message is proclaimed in this series of Gospel readings from St John, it is being proclaimed for the Church. And this was a Church growing out of a very similar social situation to our own in London today. A situation where diversity of thought and custom, of language and allegiance was commonplace.


The rapid growth of the Christian Church owed itself to a miracle. And the miracle was based upon the Christian Gospel and of the Jesus of Nazareth, the local man who was in the space of three centuries to become the One for whom The One God manifested himself as his own self in human form. The growth of the Church rested very firmly on the experience of the Resurrection as an upsurge of divine power, galvanising and informing the Church. In the spirit of the living Christ this Church was to advance away from its Jewish inheritance. It did this in the firm belief, expressed passionately by St Paul, that the Christian Faith was for all people everywhere: all should partake of Christ. His death and Resurrection was for the life of the world. If this were not so, then the full significance was Christ’s sacrifice would never have been realised. For them the existence of Christ and the sacrifice of Christ are one and the same. Jesus is   “…the one full, perfect and sufficient sacrifice for the sins of the whole world…” This echoes the words of the writer to the Hebrews (10.14) when he tells us that  “For by one offering Jesus has perfected forever those that are being sanctified…”


The Church offers us all the hope for the sanctification of our lives and their purposes. In the Church’s life, in the household of faith, lies the consecration of us all in the one body of faith. Two years ago there was a murder in Argyle Street. A man was stabbed to death in one of the so called ‘units’ where live those who are vulnerable and medicated. A row which took time to brew between two men exploded weeks later in terrible violence and the death of one of them. A police cordon was placed around the front porch for a day and a half. I heard the news of this happening not from the police but as I was beckoned into the house two days later by one of the inhabitants to meet the staff, who seemed pleased to see a priest. They were in an obvious state of shock and requested, in their own words, ‘prayers of deliverance’. And so we sat and prayed about what had happened and comforted one another in this house of dread. In my Father’s House there are many mansions and some of them are unlike any you have ever seen. Many are in need of sanctification. Now the three houses of dread are boarded up and I do not know what their fate will be, but these house, situated alongside a primary school and in the middle of the most densely packed part of London were clearly not the appropriate places for the mentally vulnerable.


St John’s mysterious words are significant for how they tell us of how strange and wonderful are God’s ways and how they inhabit so many places and worlds beyond the confines of our own. He is the God who surprised me two years ago, and brought me into a troubled house at the behest of a troubled man, poor in spirit, who was spiritually awake and genuinely concerned for the life of his house and compassionate to toward the anxiety of those bearing the responsible position.


There are so many ways in which we ‘do’ Church, aren’t there? We are being called at Eastertide to be the Church of the one household of God but one whose inhabitants occupy the ‘many mansions’ of our world’s own living. We are called, like the early Christians, to be the Church which receives that same sanctifying grace which is the presence of Christ ‘at all times and in all places’. This week our east windows will be boarded up and will spend some weeks beholding a somewhat darkened and artificially lit sanctuary. In this mansion, come what may, we behold the fair beauty of the Lord, and take that sense of his presence into our lives so that we may be Christian presences, many mansions, in his service.










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