The Rectory Window

With authority (1:27)  'Someone needs to come in and strip out the excess' my friend said. He had asked me where a vicar came in the hierarchy of the church, and, when my answer failed to satisfy him, decided to look it up. Unsurprisingly this left him even more confused. 'It's a right old mess!' he opined, 'but that's what happens in all old organisations.' It seems that management like to have someone to manage so 'of the creation of new levels of management there is no end', as someone might put it. Jesus' authority is not this kind of structural authority. He didn't order his disciples about to show off his importance. Nor, more surprisingly, did he demonstrate his great wisdom and understanding, or at least not here. Here his authority is raw power. He defeats his enemies, driving out unclean spirits with a word, healing the sick with a touch. I wonder what the equivalent is today? In parts of Kenya you become a bishop when you have

The impure spirit (1:26)  My introduction to a muddy walk was near the Norfolk village of Blakeney. If you diverge from the marked paths and set out across the estuary, you quickly find yourself knee deep in a clammy black slime generously called mud. Soon on our walk anyone who attempted to remain clean was vigorously baptised until all were covered from head to foot. We had a wonderful time. In nature nothing is pure, nor is purity necessarily something to be desired. The minerals in fresh water give it taste. The impurities in soil provide the essential ingredients in healthy food. Mud is good but can look revolting.  Here impure does not mean adulterated, revolting, 'yucky' but to be turned away from God, outside his people. Why then do we assume God backs up our instinctive disgust at others' lives? We can so easily get caught up in judging their choices when the real problem is hardness in our hearts. It is not our degree of dirtyness that determines our relationship

Shut up (1:25)  'Shtom ta pei' bellowed my pugnacious friend just outside our door, 'Shekket'. The Israeli teenagers who had been disturbing our sleep were suddenly silent. 'What did you say?' I asked him. 'Shut your gob' he replied, 'very useful'. I didn't doubt it, though I did doubt that he'd learned it on a Hebrew for Beginners course.  Jesus is hardly less expressive with the unclean spirit. 'Be muzzled' he declares, 'Get out', dealing with the spirit in a few well-chosen words. Too often Jesus is portrayed as rather softly spoken and meek but here he seems more like my tough, northern friend. He fronts up to the opposition and puts it down. Are we guilty of holding a false image of Jesus, one that fits our own prejudices? If so, then we need to find a way of seeing him as he really is, of following him out of our place of comfort and allowing him to disturb us into new ways of living and seeing the world.

He cried out (1:24)  "'In Spirit and in truth' can be translated as 'breath and word'," our voice coach said. He was showing us how to use our bellows, as he called them, the bottom of our lungs, to carry our words so that we could easily be heard. The sound is fuller, smoother, clearer and, as a result, more attractive. 'You will no longer sound like Anne Widdecombe' as he put it. The unclean spirit's words were true. 'Jesus of Nazareth...the Holy One of God' is Jesus spot on. And yet the intent is malicious. By exposing Jesus too soon, the whole project of salvation is put at risk. Jesus can neither deny nor accept the titles so he simply shuts the spirit up.  It is all too common to use truth to get an unjust or unkind end: to expose to ridicule or to bully into submission. That's why courts require the 'whole truth', as partial or partisan truth can be even more deceptive than lies. The Ephesians are encouraged to 'know

An unclean spirit (1:23)  Mark was a very difficult colleague. He was capable at his job, skilled and successful, but had a tendency to be obstructive and rude to certain fellow workers. His supervisor, Peter, was a particular target. This continued for a number of years until Peter spotted a pattern. Mark was only rude to his Christian colleagues, and, most importantly, he picked on those whom Peter knew were Christians but Mark didn't. It was clear Mark knew something that humanly he could not know and Peter decided that Mark had an unclean spirit. In a moment of solitude, Peter prayed against this 'spirit of darkness', commanding it to be gone in Jesus' name. Immediately and for the next five years until Mark left the job, his treatment of Peter changed. He became pleasant and supportive. He remained difficult to other people but was no longer able to pick out Christians.  Today we often assume that the idea of an unclean spirit hides ignorance, either about mental i

Not like the clergy (1:22)  Many years ago, a major Greek scholar was visiting an Oxford theological college. His hosts asked if he would read the lesson for the day, which happened to be this passage. He chose to read it in Greek, translating fluently as he went along. It all sounded rather like the RSV, until he got to this verse, when instead of 'scribes' he read 'clergy'. There was a sharp intake of breath, audible, I am told, to all. No one had spotted how closely the educated religious class of today, the group into which they were all being inducted, paralleled not Jesus' disciples but Jesus' opponents.   As we gain knowledge and grow in understanding of God's ways, we have this challenging path to take: how do we avoid our theology (literally 'talk of God') taking us away from our faith (our 'walk with God')? 'You study the Scriptures, but you refuse to come to me' says Jesus to his critics. Too often we trust to clever ideas,

The Sabbath came (1:21)  'On Monday I took a meeting with the mission committee, on Tuesday I was visiting parishes to the west of the diocese...', the new Archdeacon had been asked about her week, so, quite reasonably, she was telling us that it had been busy, 'then on Sunday I covered for a sick colleague. It meant I couldn't take my day off this week, but it happens to us all doesn't it?' She sounded a bit tired to my ears - excited by the job but needing a day off like the rest of us. One might wonder if this is how Jesus felt when he worked on the sabbath, but I doubt it. He seems to have waited until the sabbath to go to work, rather than added it to his working week, so his actions are not a licence to work seven days a week, but an example to rest until the seventh day. Jesus waited for God's opportune moment, for God's sabbath of blessing. Are we brave enough to do the same?

With the hired men (1:20)  In Japanese culture there is a phrase 'listening to the atmosphere', which acts as a reminder that communication is far more than words. I have just heard a rather beautiful English equivalent, 'to hear the missing notes', which I love. It turns conversation into a symphony, and language into an orchestra. My tendency to pare things down has found a new foil. When we listen to the atmosphere of these words in Mark, we hear the sadness of James' and John's father, left behind on the sudden departure of his sons. The hired men may have been good employees, valued members of his organisation, but it is not the same as family. His hopes were in his sons: to lose one is a sadness, but to lose both at once a tragedy. Are we held back from following Jesus wherever he leads by the expectations of others? It is rare that both partners in a marriage will move with Christ at the same pace. Can we trust God for such a gap in our relationship? It i

A little further (1:19)  We have become regular watchers of an Italian crime series called Inspector Montalbano . In translation it is rather tame, but I am told that we are lucky not to speak Italian for it is peppered with some fairly fruity language. It is not so much the story-lines I find fascinating but the rich insight into everything Italian, especially the hand-gestures, the wheel-spins, the battered cars and houses, and the endless plates of spaghetti with practically anything. The lead actor is called Luca Zingaretti. His brother, Nicola, is a successful Italian politician. Not unusually, the brothers share enough genes and background to boast both to prominence. All three of Jesus' inner circle came from one small stretch of beach, from one profession, fishing, and two were even brothers. In setting out to build the church, God-made-man started with a very limited palette. He must have seen something extraordinary in these simple men. Can we? And not just in these men a

They left their nets (1:18)  In the Netherlands, a group of fashion designers offer a “Golden Joinery” workshop. Inspired by the Japanese technique Kintsugi, where broken porcelain is visibly repaired with gold, participants collaborate in mending clothes in ways that highlight the mending work rather than trying to mask it. Those who are invited bring “a dear but broken garment and mend it with gold.” As they remake their clothes, the repair becomes ornamental, a “golden scar.” ( Daily Bread 20th October ) Nets are very time consuming. They are forever breaking and must be mended to avoid losing the catch. Much of the fisherman's shore time is spent mending nets. So leaving the nets is a big event.  I wonder if the skill and care of mending nets gave the fisherman an insight into Jesus' mission that our throw-away society lacks? Certainly the mending of human lives is a painstaking exercise worthy of great honour. It is also a source of great glory as a mended life can be even

Follow me (1:17)  It was mayhem outside church this morning. Tractors, trailers and cars were everywhere, while overall-clad, mud-splattered farming folk lined the wall, looking a little bit peeved. We had blocked the road and they were stuck. It took only a little effort to unclog the jam, as tractor drivers are remarkably good at squeezing through small gaps in their vast contraptions. It all became quite jolly and one of them quipped, 'We reckon it was God telling us to take the day off'. I quipped back, 'Or that you should be in church'. And it struck me. If Jesus were calling disciples today, he'd have called these farmers. 'Come, follow me, and I will make you people-farmers'. But not into church, as I did. 'Come and join my gang, and learn to love people the way you love the land'. Might be worth a try.

For they were fishermen (1:16)  On a day off from work, a couple of friends went naked spear fishing off the coast of Dorset. The resultant catch was carried up the beach to a fire of hot coals, to be roasted and eaten, pulled off the bone where they sat. I have no idea why clothes were only optional, but I've noticed this is not unusual. On the Kibbutz where I worked during my year off, the strong young fishermen worked naked. Oddly, the pretty young female volunteers were always assigned to join them. Why fishing and nudity go together is a mystery, but it adds a rawness to the image of Jesus' call to Simon and Andrew. These were strong, independent, secure working men asked to wander, homeless and outcast. Jesus chose a tough crowd to be his inner circle, and he gave them a hard way to travel. Too much of our religion today looks rather different. Robes abound, some glittering with gold. Voices are modulated and well-toned, sermons are carefully prepared and structured. Jobs

Repent (1:15)  On 2nd April 1982, the military Junta that ruled Argentina launched an invasion of the Falkland Islands. The Islands' proximity to and reliance on Argentina and their distance from Britain had made them a target for the Argentine rulers for years. Negotiations had not produced a solution and the foreign office had come up with a leaseback proposal, a little like Hong Kong. This was soundly rejected by parliament as a betrayal of the Islands' residents, so tensions were high. The withdrawal of HMS Endurance , the British patrol vessel, on economic grounds, was seen by Galtieri and the Junta as a green light, and in they went. The response was savage. Parliament felt it as a humiliation of the British people and turned on Thatcher's government. Lord Carrington then did something very unusual. He resigned for the sake of the country, on principle, taking the blame for decisions he had opposed, on the grounds that, as Foreign Secretary, he was responsible. It had

 After John (1:14)  I've recently been re-introduced to Gary Larson, the Far Side man, and his quirky humour. You know, the one who drew the picture of a boy pushing at a door marked PULL outside Midvale School for the Gifted. One of his cartoons drew a lot of complaints. It shows a dog called Fifi being set up. As part of his explanation, almost defence, of the cartoon he wrote about comedy generally, 'the key element in any attempt at humor is conflict. Our brain is suddenly jolted into trying to accept something that is unacceptable. The punch line of a joke is the part that conflicts with the first part, thereby surprising us and throwing our synapses into some kind of fire drill.' Rowan Atkinson puts it rather simpler with his two liner, 'What is the secret to good comedy?' 'timing' (No, it's not funny in print but worth an internet search). Jesus timing in waiting until after John, is, of course, not an attempt at humour - though he did tell the eq

Angels attended him (1:13)  He didn't cut much of a figure. Scruffy, unshaven, coursely-spoken, he was hardly the obvious candidate for a homegroup leader. But somehow, by accident or design, he had become the de facto guide to our early adult fumblings in the world of faith. The faith where our parents no longer guided us and God was expected to turn up. And it was a strange group. School leavers just waiting to go up to university, early twenties who had no desire for more education and then Jim, a bit older, who didn't seem to fit into any category, living without portfolio if you like. But Jim certainly stretched our expectations of God. One day he had been driving out late and his headlights had failed. Unable to go on and with no money to call for help - or for that matter to mend the car at all - he laid hands on the lights and prayed. And they came back on. We thought he was crazy, but it set in motion a meme in my mind. What if God does a little more than appear 2000

 At once (1:12)  On the way down from Great Gable in the Lake District, there runs a babbling brook called Sour Milk Gill. The path beside it meanders backwards and forwards down the hill sometimes coming up close to the stream, at other times drifting away into the heather and bracken that skirt it's banks. At one point as you descend you come across a large rock that allows the brave walker to step out over a fall in the stream of about sixty feet. It's a last thrill as you come off the mountain, anticipating tea and a bun at the cafe at the bottom. On a sunny day in February, I took this slight detour to take in the view. I was at the time working for Scripture Union, a Christian organisation that, among other things, organised holidays for young people. I was a rather inexperienced youngster, well out of my depth practically and spiritually, and it had taken it's toll, leaving me desperate for a holiday. So I booked an ice-climbing week in the Lakes. It had been an asto

You are my son whom I love (1:11)  Much study has been done on young people leaving church, not surprisingly. A whole generation left in the 1960s, and then again in the 70s and the 80s and no one could work out why. Many answers were tried: rejection of parental discipline, easy access to drugs and sex, doctrinal confusion. All had a part to play but none seemed to quite fit the bill. Indeed no one knows, but here's a suggestion. A gap grew quite suddenly between middle-aged adults and young people. The parental generation were interested in mortgages and classical music and sensible things like that - a reaction I suspect to the insecurity of the war. The young generation were not. They wanted to dance to loud music, stay up to all hours and... you can guess the rest. Why is this gap my main suspect? Well, all the evidence suggests that friendship - genuine, honest, reliable friendship - between young people and Christian adults, is what keeps the youngsters going on with God.  M

He saw heaven being torn open (1:10)  As I sat at the back of the examination, I began to read. Don't worry, it was an internal school exam and I was not alone so no rules were broken, no one's future was at risk. The book in question had been recommended via a circuitous route. I had discovered George Macdonald was CSLewis' inspiration for the Narnia series, indeed might be considered the inspiration for all modern fantasy writing, so I had found a collection of his writings put together by the aforesaid CSLewis. And I had reached these words: wake up you sleeper and rise from the dead. Suddenly I was overtaken by a sense of awe, quietly shaking and with tears rolling down my cheeks. In that moment it felt like heaven was ripped open, and I knew, in my small way, what it is like to see God. When Jesus saw heaven opened I wonder if he collapsed at the knees and start to weep, not in sorrow but in joy, just like me. So often he is portrayed as taking it in his stride but thi

 At that time Jesus came from Nazareth (1:9)  I left home at 12. Quite Biblical that I suppose. I don't mean that I moved out and got a job, but a few short weeks before my 13th birthday I was left alone in a dark and damp courtyard with nothing but a large trunk for company. I had been sent to boarding school. After that day, I spent more of each year away from home than at home. I survived the shock, in some ways flourishing, in other ways diminishing, but it marked a moment of change. And such moments are the blows that form a life. In a way, my life has been a single, dedicated, boarding school recovery programme, unravelling the damage and releasing the blessings. Here it is Jesus who leaves home for the first time - to be baptised by John. I wonder if that's what his parents had hoped for him. Did they wave him off from the front door knowing he was off to see the wild man in the desert, or were they expecting he would go to Jerusalem to join the scribes and fulfil his ea

He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit (1:8)  Many years ago, I stood in a field near Shepton Mallet with my beloved youngest son in my arms. A few months before we had noticed that the skin around his groin was becoming red and inflamed. We initially put it down to, how shall I put it, male 'dampness', but as it spread it became obvious it was something rather worse. A consultant was seen, a diagnosis was given, and we were presented with a certainty. Your son has Psoriasis and he will need cream rubbed into his groin for the rest of his life. As many of you know he has 'additional needs', and I had a vision of applying it to him as an 18 year old. So as I stood in that field, I had a complaint. Before he was born, I had sensed God promise a son healthy in mind, body and spirit, which he was, but now he had an incurable condition. I made my complaint pretty clear to the Almighty. At this moment, something unexpected happened. A friend of ours came walking through the

This was John's message: "After me..." (1:7)  A keen and gifted vicar took on a challenging church in a town in the east of England. He had energy and ideas and quickly set up a flourishing ministry among the local families. He gathered workers, set up programs and after a few years left hopeful that his work would continue. Some time later he found himself in the vicinity of his old church and thought he would pop in to see how things were going. As soon as he got near he realised something was wrong. The building looked empty and unused. All evidence of his programs and ministry was absent. The site appeared almost derelict. One of his old churchwardens still lived just over the road, so he paid him a visit. The story was a familiar one. When he left, the energy and drive had gone out of the church. Those who left the work were not replaced and eventually attendance dropped to an unsustainable level and the church that had thrived just a few short years before was close

 John ate locusts (1:6)  Many years ago, my parents were gifted a holiday in Greece. Dad loves all that Roman and Greek ancient world stuff, and the first week was to be a coach trip around the sites. Sadly for him he bought his son along, me, and I was suffering with, well, ME. After a day in the mayhem that is Athens, I was in meltdown. Bless him, for he gave up his trip of a lifetime and we left Piraeus harbour the next day by fast ferry for Aegina. And my recovery began. Day 5 I think it was, and we were in our favourite restaurant. I felt better and brave and ordered squid. Well, I can tell you that bicycle inner tubes are tender compared to that squid. I can still imagine the staff hiding behind the kitchen door laughing quietly at each failed mouthful. It was truly foul and has put me off seafood for life. So I have sympathy with John and his lunch of locusts. Did he mix them with honey to kill the taste, one wonders? I do hope so. What I wonder more is why he ate such strange f